"What I want to ask is this: I want to know if we have joined this order to listen to chin-music the rest of our lives, or to do somethin'. There is some kind of men that kin talk tell day of jedgment, lettin' Gabrel toot and then beginnin' ag'in. I ain't that kind; I j'ined to do somethin';--what's to be done?" He sat down with his hand on his hip, squarely facing the luckless Bott, whose face grew as purple as the illuminated side of it. But he opened not his mouth. Offitt answered the question: "I would state," he said glibly, "the objects we propose to accomplish: the downfall of the money power, the rehabitation of labor, the----" "Oh, yes!" Bowersox interrupted, "I know all about that,--but what are we goin' to _do?_" Offitt paled a little, but did not flinch at the savage tone of the surly brute. He began again in his smoothest manner: "I am of the opinion that the discussion of sound principles, such as we have listened to to-night, is among the objects of our order. After that, organization for mutual profit and protection against the minions of the money power,--for makin' our influence felt in elections,--for extendin' a helpin' hand to honest toil,--for rousin' our bretheren from their lethargy, which, like a leaden pall----" "I want to know," growled Bowersox, with sullen obstinacy, "what's to be done." "Put your views in the form of a motion, that they may be properly considered by the meetin'," said the imperturbable president. "Well, I motion that we stop talkin' and commence doin'----" "Do you suggest that a committee be appointed for that purpose?" "Yes, anything." And the chairman appointed Bowersox, Bott, and Folgum such a committee. All breathed more freely and felt as if something practical and energetic had been accomplished. The committee would, of course, never meet nor report, but the colloquy and the prompt action taken upon it made every one feel that the evening had been interesting and profitable. Before they broke up, Sleeny was asked for his initiation fee of two dollars, and all the brethren were dunned for their monthly dues. "What becomes of this money?" the neophyte bluntly inquired of the hierophant. "It pays room rent and lights," said Offitt, with unabashed front, as he returned his greasy wallet to his pocket. "The rest goes for propagatin' our ideas, and especially for influencin' the press." Sleeny was a dull man, but he made up his mind on the way home that the question which had so long puzzled him--how Offitt made his living--was partly solved. VI. TWO MEN SHAKE HANDS.