Just then the telephone bell rang, and Hastings was soon hearing
confirmation of the news his daughter had brought him. She could
not bear watching his face as he listened. She turned her back,
stood gazing out at the window. Her father, beside himself, was
shrieking into the telephone curses, denunciations, impossible
orders. The one emergency against which he had not provided was
the union's ending the strike. When you have struck the line of
battle of a general, however able and self-controlled, in the one
spot where he has not arranged a defense, you have thrown him--
and his army--into a panic. Some of the greatest tactitians in
history have given way in those circumstances; so, Martin
Hastings' utter loss of self-control and of control of the
situation only proves that he had his share of human nature. He
had provided against the unexpected; he had not provided against
the impossible.
Jane let her father rave on into the telephone until his voice
grew hoarse and squeaky. Then she turned and said: ``Now,
father--what's the use of making yourself sick? You can't do any
good--can you?'' She laid one hand on his arm, with the other
hand caressed his head. ``Hang up the receiver and think of your
health.''
``I don't care to live, with such goings-on,'' declared he. But
he hung up the receiver and sank back in his chair, exhausted.
``Come out on the porch,'' she went on, tugging gently at him.
Pages:
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111