“But in America the people can get anything they want!” cried the bewildered old man. “They only have to vote--” “VOTE?” snarled Jimmie. “An' have their votes thrown out by some rotten political gang, like they got here in Leesville? Don't talk to me about votin'--they told me I'd moved into a new district an' lost my vote--lost it because I lost my job! So it's old man Granitch has the say whether I can vote or not! You'll find the same thing true of two-thirds of the men in the Empire Shops--half the unskilled men in the country got no votes, because they got no home, no nothin'.” “But,” argued the old soldier, “how will you run your new working-class government, if not by votes?” “Sure, we'll run it by votes,” Jimmie answered--“but first we'll turn out the capitalists; they won't have the money to buy political machines; they won't own the newspapers an' print lies about us. Look at this Leesville Herald right now--just plain downright lies they print--we can't get any truth at all to the people.” And so it went. It was of no use for the old man to plead for the “country”; to Jimmie the “country” had let itself be lost, suppressed, taken over by the capitalists, the “plutes”. Jimmie's sense of loyalty was not to his country, but to his class, which had been exploited, hounded, driven from pillar to post. In past times the government had allowed itself to be used by corporations; so now it was in vain that the President made appeals for justice and democracy, using the beautiful language of idealism. Jimmie did not believe that he meant it; or anyhow, Wall Street would see that nothing came of his promises. The “plutes” would take his words and twist them into whatever sense they wished; and meantime they went on pouring abuse on Jimmie Higgins--throwing the same old mud into his eyes, blinding him with the same old hatred. So there was no way for an old soldier and patriot to break through the armour of Jimmie's prejudice. IV Next day was to be the great mass-meeting in celebration of the Russian revolution; and would you believe it, Lizzie was hoping to persuade Jimmie to stay away; she had brought Mr. Drew to help persuade him! Poor Lizzie had visions of everybody in the hall being carted off to jail, of Jimmie getting up and shouting something, causing the police to fall on him and beat in his skull with their clubs. It was in vain he declared that he was going to do nothing more romantic than sell literature and act as usher. She clasped him in her arms, weeping copiously, and when he was still obdurate, she declared that she would go with him. She would try to persuade Mrs. Drew to take care of the babies for one night.