“Come now, Lightener, I’m fair-minded.  I’ve even given some study to the motives of men.”

“And you’re writing a book.”  He shrugged his shoulders.  “The sort of philosophical reflections that go in books aren’t the sort to answer when you’re up against the real thing in social unrest. ...  In your whole business life you’ve never really come into contact with your men.  Now be honest, have you?”

“I’ve always delegated that sort of thing to subordinates,” said Mr. Foote, stiffly.

“Which,” retorted Mr. Lightener, “is one of the reasons for the unrest. ...  That’s it.  We don’t understand what they’re up against, nor what we do to aggravate them.”

“It’s the inevitable warfare between capital and labor,” said Mr. Foote.  “Jealousy is at the root of it; unsound theories, like this of socialism, and too much freedom of speech make it all but unbearable.”

“Dulac said they must organize to be in condition to fight us.”

“Organize,” said Mr. Foote, contemptuously.  “I’ll have no unions in my shop.  There never have been unions and there never shall be.  I’ll put a sudden stop to that. ...  Pretty idea, when the men I pay wages to, the men I feed and clothe, can dictate to me how I shall conduct my affairs.”

“Yes,” said Lightener, “we automobile fellows are non-union, but how long we can maintain it I don’t know.  They have their eyes on us and they’re mighty hungry.”

“To-morrow morning,” said Mr. Foote, “notices will appear in every department stating that any man who affiliates with a labor union will be summarily dismissed.”

“Maybe that will end the thing this time, Foote, but it’ll be back.  It ’ll be back.”

Hilda leaned forward again and whispered to Bonbright, “You’re not getting much enlightenment, are you?” Her eyes twinkled; it was like her father’s twinkle, but more charming.

“How,” he asked, slowly, “are we ever to make anything of it if we, on the employers’ side, can’t understand their point of view, and they can’t understand ours?”

Mrs. Foote arose.  “Let’s not take labor unions into the other room with us,” she said.

Bonbright and Hilda walked in together and immediately engaged in comfortable conversation; not the sort of nonsense talk usually resorted to by a young man and a young woman on their first meeting.  They had no awkwardness to overcome, nor was either striving to make an impression on the other.  Bonbright had forgotten who this girl was, and why she was present, until he saw his mother and Mrs. Lightener approach each other, cast covert glances in their direction, and then observe something with evident pleasure.

“They seem attracted by each other,” Mrs. Foote said.

“He’s a nice boy,” replied Mrs. Lightener.  “I think you’re right.”

“An excellent beginning.  Propinquity and opportunity ought to do the rest. ...  We can see to that.”