``Oh, I don't care anything about it, popsy,'' she cried, fighting to think of him and to speak to him as simply the living father she had always insisted on seeing.
``Yes--you do care,'' said Hastings sharply.``You've got to have your money, because that's your foundation-- what you're built on.And I'm going to train you.This here strike's a good time to begin.''
After a long silence she said: ``Yes, money's what I'm built on.
I might as well recognize the truth and act accordingly.I want you to teach me, father.''
``I've got to educate you so as, when you get control, you won't go and do fool sentimental things like some women--and some men that warn't trained practically-- men like that Davy Hull you think so well of.Things that'd do no good and 'd make you smaller and weaker.''
``I understand,'' said the girl.``About this strike-- WHY won't you give the men shorter hours and better pay?''
``Because the company can't afford it.As things are now, there's only enough left for a three per cent dividend after the interest on the bonds is paid.''
She had read in the New Day that by a series of tricks the ``traction ring'' had quadrupled the bonded indebtedness of the roads and multiplied the stock by six, and had pocketed the proceeds of the steal; that three per cent on the enormously inflated capital was in fact eighteen per cent on the actual stock value; that seven per cent on the bonds was in fact twenty-eight per cent on the actual bonded indebtedness; that this traction steal was a fair illustration of how in a score of ways in Remsen City, in a thousand and one ways in all parts of the country, the upper class was draining away the substance of the masses, was swindling them out of their just wages, was forcing them to pay many times the just prices for every article of civilized use.She had read these things--she had thought about them--she had realized that they were true.
She did not put to her father the question that was on her lips--the next logical question after his answer that the company could not afford to cut the hours lower than fourteen or to raise wages to what was necessary for a man to have if he and his family were to live, not in decency and comfort, but in something less than squalor.She did not put the question because she wished to spare her father--to spare herself the shame of hearing his tricky answer--to spare herself the discomfort of squarely facing a nasty truth.
Instead she said: ``I understand.And you have got to look out for the rights of the people who have invested their money.''
``If I didn't I'd be cheating them,'' said Hastings.``And if the men don't like their jobs, why, they can quit and get jobs they do like.'' He added, in absolute unconsciousness of his inconsistency, in absolute belief in his own honesty and goodness, ``The truth is our company pays as high wages as can be got anywhere.As for them hours--when _I_ was working my way up, _I_ used to put in sixteen and eighteen hours a day, and was mighty glad to do it.This lazy talk of cutting down hours makes me sick.And these fellows that're always kicking on their jobs, I'd like to know what'd become of them and their families if Iand men like me didn't provide work for 'em.''
``Yes, indeed!'' cried Jane, eagerly seizing upon this attractive view of the situation--and resolutely accepting it without question.
In came one of the maids, saying: ``There's a man wants to see you, Mr.Hastings.''
``What's his name? What does he want?'' inquired Hastings, while Jane made a mental note that she must try to inject at least a little order and form into the manners of announcing visitors.
``He didn't give a name.He just said, `Tell the old man I want to see him.' I ain't sure, but I think it's Dick Kelly.''
As Lizzie was an ardent Democrat, she spoke the name contemptuously--for Dick Kelly was the Republican boss.If it had been House, the Democratic boss and Kelly's secret dependent and henchman, she would have said ``Mr.Joseph House'' in a tone of deep respect.
``Kelly,'' said Hastings.``Must be something important or he'd 'a telephoned or asked me to see him at my office or at the Lincoln Club.He never came out here before.Bring him in, Lizzie.''
A moment and there appeared in the doorway a man of perhaps forty years who looked like a prosperous contractor who had risen from the ranks.His figure was notable for its solidity and for the power of the shoulders; but already there were indications that the solidity, come of hard manual labor in early life, was soon to soften into fat under the melting influence of prosperity and the dissipation it put within too easy reach.The striking features of his face were a pair of keen, hard, greenish eyes and a jaw that protruded uglily--the jaw of aggressiveness, not the too prominent jaw of weakness.At sight of Jane he halted awkwardly.
``How're you, Mr.Hastings?'' said he.
``Hello, Dick,'' said the old man.``This is my daughter Jane.''
Jane smiled a pleasant recognition of the introduction.Kelly said stiffly, ``How're you, ma'am?''
``Want to see me alone, I suppose?'' Hastings went on.``You go out on the porch, Jenny.''
As soon as Jane disappeared Kelly's stiffness and clumsiness vanished.To head off Hastings' coming offer of a cigar, he drew one from his pocket and lighted it.``There's hell to pay, Mr.
Hastings,'' he began, seating himself near the old man, tilting back in his chair and crossing his legs.
``Well, I reckon you can take care of it,'' said Hastings calmly.
``Oh, yes, we kin take care of it, all right.Only, I don't want to do nothing without consulting you.''
In these two statements Mr.Kelly summed up the whole of politics in Remsen City, in any city anywhere, in the country at large.
