“There are too many unemployed men hanging about the yards,” said the supervisor in his decisive way, after Cherry had excused herself in order to change to a clean dress. “I am about to point that out to our police department. They should either be given a sentence to the farm or be run out of town.” “A good many of those idlers have been employees of the road. Their homes are here. It is not exactly their fault that they have been thrown out of work. And they do not understand why they should be idle.” “What is that to the Great Northern?” demanded the supervisor with some hauteur. “A railroad is a corporation doing business for gain. It is not a charitable organization.” “It should be both,” declared Ralph earnestly. He felt that he could oppose this man safely. Hopkins could not touch his department. “The way the Great Northern—and this division particularly—has kept together a loyal bunch of workmen is by caring for those workmen and their families through dull seasons. I understand that a man has been lopped off each section gang of late. In three cases I know that the man discharged owned, or was paying for, his own little home. They are up against it, for other work is not easily obtained now.” “I have had that brought to my attention before,” answered Mr. Hopkins, with a gesture of finality. “I repeat, it does not interest me—or the Great Northern.” “It is going to interest you, I fear,” said Ralph warmly. “I do not understand you, Mr. Fairbanks.” “The men are getting down on you,” said the young fellow bluntly. “As you see they insult and threaten Miss Cherry and your wife. There will be some outbreak——” “Do you think that if I knew that to be true it would influence me in the least?” asked Mr. Hopkins sternly. “It would better. Your wife and daughter are likely to suffer. Of course, the discharged men will probably not have anything to do with it; but they cannot control their sympathizers. There is talk of a strike. If a strike comes——” “Suppose you let such matters be handled by your superiors, Mr. Fairbanks,” said the supervisor coldly. “It is not in the province of a train dispatcher.” “Quite true,” Ralph said, rising abruptly. Cherry had not come back into the room. He felt that he really was not welcome here. And he feared he might be tempted to say something even more unwise to the stiff-necked supervisor. “You will excuse me, Mr. Hopkins. I really think your daughter and wife are in some danger if they go downtown. Pardon me for saying so.” “Thank you,” said Barton Hopkins without an ounce of expression in either his voice or his countenance. “Good-day, Mr. Fairbanks.” “Humph!” thought Ralph, as he fumbled for the knob of the front door. “I reckon I know where I get off with Mr. Hopkins. Oh, yes!” CHAPTER III A GOOD DEAL TO THINK OF