"
When the Interpreter was silent, his guest demanded, harshly, "They are
all right, heh? You are a friend to the workingman? Tell me, is it so?"
The old basket maker spoke with quiet dignity. "For twenty-five years
Millsburgh has been my home, and the Millsburgh people have been my
friends. You, sir, have been here less than a month; I have known you
but a few minutes."
Jake Vodell laughed understandingly. "Oh-ho, so that is it? Maybe you
like to see my credentials before we talk?"
The Interpreter held up a hand in protest. "Your reputation is
sufficient, Mr. Vodell."
The man acknowledged the compliment--as he construed it--with a shrug
and a pleased laugh. "And all that is said of you by the laboring class
in your little city is sufficient," he returned. "Even the men in
McIver's factory tell me you are the best friend that labor has ever
had in this place." He paused expectantly.
The man in the wheel chair bowed his head.
"And then," continued Jake Vodell, with a frown of displeasure, "when I
come to see you, to ask some questions about things that I should know,
what do I hear? The daughter of this old slave-driver and robber--this
capitalist enemy of the laboring class--Adam Ward, she comes also to
see this Interpreter who is such a friend of the people.
Pages:
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113