As spokesman for these—­these men, Mr. Gibson, I would congratulate you for anticipating the inevitable and certain world future!  You have done well for yourself to perceive it.  I am sure on that account you leave here with their respect.  And to you I should think it might be some relief—­

GIBSON:  Relief?  I should think it might!  And you can translate that into your nineteen languages and dialects—­including the Scandinavian!  As for you men—­you wouldn’t work for me—­now see if you can work for yourselves!  Good-bye, Miss Gorodna!

[NORA, who has been looking at him tensely, inclines her head slightly.  He opens the door that leads to the street and goes out decisively.  There are exclamations from everyone, loud but awed.  “Say, look here, look here, look here!”

     “Give it to us!” “Equal shares!  Did you hear what he said?”
     “Gosh!  Is this the end of the world?” “My wife won’t believe
     it!"]

MIFFLIN:  Gentlemen, this factory comes into the possession of every workman in it on equal terms; each has a like share in the profits.  At last the workman owns his tools.

FRANKEL [suddenly, as if light had just come]:  Gibson’s crazy!

MIFFLIN:  No, no!  He saw the writing on the wall!

NORA [as if entranced, her eyes to heaven]:  Isn’t it
wonderful—­wonderful!

MIFFLIN [beaming]:  But we mustn’t forget that it entails responsibilities.

NORA:  We mustn’t forget that.

     [The telephone bell rings.  They all turn their heads in
     silence and look at it, MIFFLIN watching them, benevolently
     chuckling.  The bell rings again.]

CARTER [blankly]:  The telephone is ringin’.

MIFFLIN:  Well, answer it, answer it!

SIMPSON:  Who?

MIFFLIN:  Why, you—­any of you.  It’s yours—­it’s your telephone.

SIMPSON:  You answer it, Carter.

     [CARTER goes to the telephone and picks it up in a somewhat
     gingerly way.]

CARTER:  Hello!...  Yes....  Yes, it’s The Gibson Upright....  No, he ain’t here....  What?  Wait a minute. [Puts his hand over the mouthpiece.] He wants to know who it is talking.

FRANKEL:  My goodness!  Can’t you tell him it’s you?

CARTER:  He wouldn’t know who that was.

MIFFLIN:  Tell him it’s one of the owners of the company.

CARTER [looks at MIFFLIN solemnly; then in a hushed voice]:  It’s one of the owners of the company....  Wait a minute; let me get that.  “The Central Associated Lumber Companies?” I hear you.  Wait a minute. [Looks round.] This here company says they want to lower their bid for a couple hundred thousand feet o’ lumber to forty-seven dollars a thousand.  They say that’s a dollar lower than they offered yesterday and a half a dollar lower than they offered this morning—­says got to know now.