A moment before he had realized his power over these men; now he perceived that these men, some of them, realized it even better than he. ...  Realized it and resented it; resented it and fought with all the strength of their souls to undermine it and make it topple in ruin.

His mind was a caldron into which cross currents of thought poured and tossed.  He had no experience to draw on.  Here was a thing he was being plunged into all unprepared.  It had taken him unprepared, and shaken him as he had never been shaken before.  He turned away.

Half a dozen feet away he saw the Girl with the Grin—­not grinning now, but tense, pale, listening with her soul in her eyes, and with the light of enthusiasm glowing beside it.

He walked to her side, touched her shoulder. ...  It was unpremeditated, something besides his own will had urged him to speak to her.

“I don’t understand it,” he said, unsteadily.

“Your class never does,” she replied, not sharply, not as a retort, but merely as one states a fact to give enlightenment.

“My father,” she said, “was killed leading the strikers at Homestead. ...  The unions educated me.”

“What is this man—­this speaker—­trying to do?  Stir up a riot?”

She smiled.  “No.  He is an organizer sent by the National Federation. ...  They’re going to try to unionize our plant.”

“Unionize?”

“Bonbright Foote, Incorporated,” she said, “is a non-union shop.”

“I didn’t know,” said he, after a brief pause.  “I’m afraid I don’t understand these things. ...  I suppose one should know about them if he is to own a plant like ours.”  Again he paused while he fumbled for an idea that was taking shape.  “I suppose one should understand about his employees just as much as he does about his machinery.”

She looked at him with a touch of awakened interest.  “Do you class men with machinery?” she asked, well knowing that was not his meaning.  He did not reply.  Presently he said: 

“Rangar told you you were to be my secretary?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, using that respectful form for the first time.  The relation of employer and employee had been re-established by his words.  “Thank you for the promotion.”

“You understand what this is all about,” he said.  “I shall want to ask you about it. ...  Perhaps you even know the man who is speaking?”

“He boards with my mother,” said she.  “That was natural,” she added, “my father being who he was.”

Bonbright turned and looked at the speaker with curiosity awakened as to the man’s personality.  The man was young—­under thirty, and handsome in a black, curly, quasi-foreign manner.

Bonbright turned his eyes from the man to the girl at his side.  “He looks—­” said Bonbright.

“How?” she asked, when it was apparent he was not going to finish.

“As if,” he said, musingly, “he wouldn’t be the man to call on for a line smash in the last quarter of a tough game.”