"I say it still," J. K. cut in. "If you want to help the people you've got to drop your efficiency gods. You've got to believe in the people first--that all they need is waking up to handle this whole job themselves. You've got to see that they're waking up fast--all over the world--that they're getting tired of gods above 'em slowly planning out their lives--that they don't want to wait till they're dead to be happy--that they feel poverty every day like a million tons of brick on their chests--it's got so they can't even breathe without thinking! And you've got to see that what they're thinking is, 'Do it yourself and do it quick!' The only thing that's keeping them back is that in these times of peace men get out of the habit of violence! "But the minute you get this clear in your mind, then I say you can help 'em. Because what's needed is so big. It's not only more pay and shorter hours and homes where they needn't die off like flies--they need more than that--they need a change as much as you--in their whole way of looking at things. They've got to learn that they are a crowd--and can't get anywhere at all until all pull together. Ignorant? Of course they are! But that's where you and me come in--we can help 'em get together faster than they would if left to themselves! You can help that way a lot--by writing to the tenements! _That's_ what I meant!" Joe stopped short. And after his passionate outburst, Eleanore spoke up quietly. "This sounds funny from you," she said. "A few weeks ago you were just as sure that Billy could do nothing. What has made you change so?" Joe reddened and looked down at his hands. "I suppose," he said gruffly after a moment, "it's because I'm still weak from typhoid--weak enough to want to see some one but stokers get into the job that's become my life. You see," he muttered, "I was raised among people like you. It's a kind of a craving, I suppose--like cigarettes." Again he stopped short and there was a pause. "Rather natural," Sue murmured. Again he turned sharply from her to me. "I say you can help by your writing," he said. "You call my friends an ignorant mob. But thousands of 'em have read your stuff!" I looked up at Joe with a start.