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Rh tions of labor, and that they ought to get those things without having to fight for them."

"But they've already got them, Mrs. Bradley."

"Oh, I know that's the way you look at it, but you don't see it from the men's standpoint at all. I wish you could. I wish I could make you. I sympathize with them so deeply. That's why I'm interceding for them."

"A—it's very kind of you."

"I suppose I ought to go to your father. He's president of the company. But I don't know him. I should be afraid. I hear he's very stern."

"Oh, not so very. That depends on how you happen to strike him."

"I wouldn't take the chance of making a fortunate strike. But it occurred to me that you are vice-president of the company, and that's nearly as important a position, and—and I know you." Her eloquent eyes rested on Barry's for a moment in mute appeal, and then modestly dropped. "You've been my friend," she continued, "and my adviser. And, somehow, I'm not afraid to talk to you."

She looked up at him shyly, bewitchingly. When she looked up at him that way he never failed to lose himself completely.

"Oh, that's all right," he assured her. "You've nothing to fear from me. I—I wouldn't hurt you for the world."

"No," she said, "I know you wouldn't. I've always felt that you were perfectly"—she was going to say harmless; but she didn't; she said—"unselfish. And so I thought you would let me talk to you about the men."

"You can talk to me about anything, Mrs. Bradley—anything."

"Thank you! Now, may I ask you what wages the men are getting?"

"Certainly! All the way from a dollar sixty for the