And suiting the action to the words, he closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair.  I burst into tears of mortification and hurt vanity.  I had never been so brutally treated in my life.  Both the Bishop and my father were embarrassed and perturbed.  They tried to lead the conversation away into easier channels; but Ernest opened his eyes, looked at me, and waved them aside.  His mouth was stern, and his eyes too; and in the latter there was no glint of laughter.  What he was about to say, what terrible castigation he was going to give me, I never knew; for at that moment a man, passing along the sidewalk, stopped and glanced in at us.  He was a large man, poorly dressed, and on his back was a great load of rattan and bamboo stands, chairs, and screens.  He looked at the house as if debating whether or not he should come in and try to sell some of his wares.

“That man’s name is Jackson,” Ernest said.

“With that strong body of his he should be at work, and not peddling,"* I answered curtly.

* In that day there were many thousands of these poor merchants called PEDLERS.  They carried their whole stock in trade from door to door.  It was a most wasteful expenditure of energy.  Distribution was as confused and irrational as the whole general system of society.

“Notice the sleeve of his left arm,” Ernest said gently.

I looked, and saw that the sleeve was empty.

“It was some of the blood from that arm that I heard dripping from your roof-beams,” Ernest said with continued gentleness.  “He lost his arm in the Sierra Mills, and like a broken-down horse you turned him out on the highway to die.  When I say ‘you,’ I mean the superintendent and the officials that you and the other stockholders pay to manage the mills for you.  It was an accident.  It was caused by his trying to save the company a few dollars.  The toothed drum of the picker caught his arm.  He might have let the small flint that he saw in the teeth go through.  It would have smashed out a double row of spikes.  But he reached for the flint, and his arm was picked and clawed to shreds from the finger tips to the shoulder.  It was at night.  The mills were working overtime.  They paid a fat dividend that quarter.  Jackson had been working many hours, and his muscles had lost their resiliency and snap.  They made his movements a bit slow.  That was why the machine caught him.  He had a wife and three children.”

“And what did the company do for him?” I asked.

“Nothing.  Oh, yes, they did do something.  They successfully fought the damage suit he brought when he came out of hospital.  The company employs very efficient lawyers, you know.”

“You have not told the whole story,” I said with conviction.  “Or else you do not know the whole story.  Maybe the man was insolent.”

“Insolent!  Ha! ha!” His laughter was Mephistophelian.  “Great God!  Insolent!  And with his arm chewed off!  Nevertheless he was a meek and lowly servant, and there is no record of his having been insolent.”