Never in all
the years she had known him had he spoken to her--or to any
one--a severe or even an impatient word. His tolerance, his good
humor were infinite. Yet--she, and all who came into contact
with him, were afraid of him. There could come, and on occasion
there did come--into those extraordinary blue eyes an expression
beside which the fiercest flash of wrath would be easy to face.
When she glanced at him again, his normal expression had
returned--the face of the leader who aroused in those he
converted into fellow-workers a fanatical devotion that was the
more formidable because it was not infatuated. He caught her eye
and said:
``Things are in such good shape for us that it frightens me. I
spend most of my time in studying the horizon in the hope that I
can foresee which way the storm's coming from and what it will
be.''
``What a pessimist you are!'' laughed Selma.
``That's why the Workingmen's League has a thick- and-thin
membership of thirteen hundred and fifty,'' replied Victor.
``That's why the New Day has twenty- two hundred paying
subscribers. That's why we grow faster than the employers can
weed our men out and replace them with immigrants and force them
to go to other towns for work.''
``Well, anyhow,'' said the girl, ``no matter what happens we
can't be weeded out.''
Victor shook his head. ``Our danger period has just begun,'' he
replied. ``The bosses realize our power.
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