"What sort of a favor?" "Her cousin has written a play. She is very fond of her cousin, and anxious to have him succeed. And it is a lovely play." He held me off and stared at me. "So THAT is what you were doing in that box alone!" he exclaimed. "You incomprehensible child! Why didn't you tell your mother?" "Mother does not always understand," I said, in a low voice. "I thought, by buying a box, I would do my part to help Miss Everett's cousin's play succeed. And as a result I was dragged home, and shamefully treated in the most mortifying manner. But I am accustomed to brutality." "Oh, come now," he said. "I wouldn't go as far as that, chicken. Well, I won't finance the play, but short of that I'll do what I can." However he was not so agreeable when I told him Carter Brooks' plan. He delivered a firm no. "Although," he said, "somebody ought to do it, and show the fallacy of the play. In the first place, the world doesn't owe the fellow a living, unless he will hustle around and make it. In the second place an employer has a right to turn away a man he doesn't want. No one can force a business to employ Labor." "Well," I said, "as long as Labor talks and makes a lot of noise, and Capitol is too dignified to say anything, most people are going to side with Labor." He gazed at me. "Right!" he said. "You've put your finger on it, in true feminine fashion." "Then why won't you throw out this man when he comes to you for work? He intends to force you to employ him." "Oh, he does, does he?" said father, in a fierce voice. "Well, let him come. I can stand up for my principals, too. I'll throw him out, all right." Dear Diary, the battle is over and I have won. I am very happy. How true it is that strategy will do more than violence! We have arranged it all. Adrian is to go to the mill, dressed like a decayed gentleman, and father will refuse to give him work. I have said nothing about violence, leaving that to arrange itself. I must see Adrian and his manager. Carter has promised to tell some reporters that there may be a story at the mill on Saturday morning. I am to excited to sleep. Feel horrid. Forbidden to go out this morning. JANUARY 25TH. Beresford was here to lunch and he and mother and Sis had a long talk. He says he has kept it a secret because he did not want his business known. But he is here to place a shell order for the English War Department. "Well," Leila said, "I can hardly wait to tell father and see him curl up." "No, no," said Beresford, hastily. "Really you must allow me. I must inform him myself. I am sure you can see why. This is a thing for men to settle. Besides, it is a delicate matter. Mr. Archibald is trying to get the order, and our New York office, if I am willing, is ready to place it with him." "Well!" said Leila, in a thunderstruck tone. "If you British don't beat anything for keeping your own Counsel!" I could see that he had her hand under the table. It was sickening.