Selma smiled gravely.Not until she was within a few feet of the steps did she answer: ``Yes--but on business.'' She was wearing the same linen dress.On her head was a sailor hat, beneath the brim of which her amazingly thick hair stood out in a kind of defiance.This hat, this further article of Western civilization's dress, added to the suggestion of the absurdity of such a person in such clothing.But in her strange Cossack way she certainly was beautiful--and as healthy and hardy as if she had never before been away from the high, wind-swept plateaus where disease is unknown and where nothing is thought of living to be a hundred or a hundred and twenty-five.Both before and after the introduction Davy Hull gazed at her with fascinated curiosity too plainly written upon his long, sallow, serious face.She, intent upon her mission, ignored him as the arrow ignores the other birds of the flock in its flight to the one at which it is aimed.
``You'll give me a minute or two alone?'' she said to Jane.``We can walk on the lawn here.''
Hull caught up his hat.``I was just going,'' said he.Then he hesitated, looked at Selma, stammered: ``I'll go to the edge of the lawn and inspect the view.''
Neither girl noted this abrupt and absurd change of plan.He departed.As soon as he had gone half a dozen steps, Selma said in her quick, direct fashion:
``I've come to see you about the strike.''
Jane tried to look cool and reserved.But that sort of expression seemed foolish in face of the simplicity and candor of Selma Gordon.Also, Jane was not now so well pleased with her father's ideas and those of her own interest as she had been while she was talking with him.The most exasperating thing about the truth is that, once one has begun to see it--has begun to see what is for him the truth--the honest truth--he can not hide from it ever again.So, instead of looking cold and repellant, Jane looked uneasy and guilty.``Oh, yes--the strike,'' she murmured.
``It is over,'' said Selma.``The union met a half hour ago and revoked its action--on Victor Dorn's advice.He showed the men that they had been trapped into striking by the company--that a riot was to be started and blamed upon them--that the militia was to be called in and they were to be shot down.''
``Oh, no--not that!'' cried Jane eagerly.``It wouldn't have gone as far as that.''
``Yes--as far as that,'' said Selma calmly.``That sort of thing is an old story.It's been done so often --and worse.You see, the respectable gentlemen who run things hire disreputable creatures.They don't tell them what to do.They don't need to.
The poor wretches understand what's expected of them-- and they do it.So, the respectable gentlemen can hold up white hands and say quite truthfully, 'No blood-no filth on these--see!''' Selma was laughing drearily.Her superb, primitive eyes, set ever so little aslant, were flashing with an intensity of emotion that gave Jane Hastings a sensation of terror-much as if a man who has always lived where there were no storms, but such gentle little rains with restrained and refined thunder as usually visit the British Isles, were to find himself in the midst of one of those awful convulsions that come crashing down the gorges of the Rockies.She marveled that one so small of body could contain such big emotions.
``You mustn't be unjust,'' she pleaded.``WE aren't THAT wicked, my dear.''
Selma looked at her.``No matter,'' she said.``I am not trying to convert you--or to denounce your friends to you.I'll explain what I've come for.In his speech to-day and in inducing the union to change, Victor has shown how much power he has.The men whose plans he has upset will be hating him as men hate only those whom they fear.''
``Yes--I believe that,'' said Jane.``So, you see, I'm not blindly prejudiced.''
``For a long time there have been rumors that they might kill him----''
``Absurd!'' cried Jane angrily.``Miss Gordon, no matter how prejudiced you may be--and I'll admit there are many things to justify you in feeling strongly --but no matter how you may feel, your good sense must tell you that men like my father don't commit murder.''
``I understand perfectly,'' replied Selma.``They don't commit murder, and they don't order murder.I'll even say that I don't think they would tolerate murder, even for their benefit.But you don't know how things are done in business nowadays.The men like your father have to use men of the Kelly and the House sort--you know who they are?''
``Yes,'' said Jane.
