“And good navy-plug too, I hope. But you see it would be rather awkward, don't you? You see, Annie?” “Yes, I see,” said Annie. “I hadn't thought of that part before.” “And you didn't agree with Brother Peck on general principles? There we see the effect of residence abroad,” said Putney. “The uncorrupted--or I will say the uninterrupted--Hatborian has none of those aristocratic predilections of yours, Annie. He grows up in a community where there is neither poverty nor richness, and where political economy can show by the figures that the profligate shop hands get nine-tenths of the profits, and starve on 'em, while the good little company rolls in luxury on the other tenth. But you've got used to something different over there, and of course Brother Peck's ideas startled you. Well, I suppose I should have been just so myself.” “Mr. Putney has never felt just right about the working-men since he lost the boycotters' case,” said Mr. Gerrish, with a snicker. “Oh, come now, Billy, why did you give me away?” said Putney, with mock suffering. “Well, I suppose I might as well own up, Mrs. Munger; it's no use trying to keep it from _you_; you know it already. Yes, Annie, I defended some poor devils here for combining to injure a non-union man--for doing once just what the big manufacturing Trusts do every day of the year with impunity; and I lost the case. I expected to. I told 'em they were wrong, but I did my best for 'em. 'Why, you fools,' said I--that's the way I talk to 'em, Annie; I call 'em pet names; they like it; they're used to 'em; they get 'em every day in the newspapers--'you fools,' said I, 'what do you want to boycott for, when you can _vote_? What do you want to break the laws for, when you can _make_ 'em? You idiots, you,' said I, 'what do you putter round for, persecuting non-union men, that have as good a right to earn their bread as you, when you might make the whole United States of America a Labour Union?' Of course I didn't say that in court.” “Oh, how delicious you are, Mr. Putney!” said Mrs. Munger. “Glad you like me, Mrs. Munger,” Putney replied. “Yes, you're delightful,” said the lady, recovering from the effects of the drollery which they had all pretended to enjoy, Mr. Gerrish, and Mrs. Gerrish by his leave, even more than the others. “But you're not candid. All this doesn't help us to a conclusion. Would you give up the invited dance and supper, or wouldn't you? That's the question.” “And no shirking, hey?” asked Putney. “No shirking.” Putney glanced through a little transparent space in the ground-glass windows framing the room, which Mr. Gerrish used for keeping an eye on his sales-ladies to see that they did not sit down. “Hello!” he exclaimed. “There's Dr. Morrell. Let's put the case to him.” He opened the door and called down the store, “Come in here, Doc!”