“Father doesn’t see things; he doesn’t realize that the world’s changing,” Shepherd went on stubbornly. “He doesn’t see that the old attitude toward labor won’t do any more.” “He’ll never see it,” said Constance. “Things like that don’t hit him at all. He’s like those silly people who didn’t know there was anything wrong in France till their necks were in the guillotine.” “I told you about that clubhouse I wanted to build for our people on the Milton farm? I hate to give that up. It would mean so much to those people. And he was all wrong in thinking it would injure the property. I think it’s only decent to do something for them.” “Well, how can you do it without your father?” she asked, shifting herself for a better scrutiny of her head in the mirror. “You know that little tract of land--about twenty acres, back of the plant? I could buy that and put the clubhouse there. I have some stock in the Rogers Trust Company I can sell--about two hundred shares. It came to me through mother’s estate. Father has nothing to do with it. The last quotation on it is two hundred. What do you think of that?” “Well, I think pretty well of it,” said Constance. “Your father ought to let you build the clubhouse, but he has a positive passion for making people uncomfortable.” “I suppose,” continued Shepherd dubiously, “if I go ahead and build the thing--even with my own money--he would be angry. Of course there may be something in his idea that if we do a thing of this kind it would make the workmen at other plants restless----” “Piffle!” exclaimed Constance. “That’s the regular old stock whimper of the back-number. You might just as well say that it would be a forward step other employers ought to follow!” “Yes, there’s that!” he agreed, his eyes brightening at the suggestion. “If you built the house on your own land the storage battery company wouldn’t be responsible for it in any way.” “Certainly not!” Shepherd was increasingly pleased that she saw it all so clearly. She had slipped on her gown and was instructing him as to the position of the hooks. “No; the other side, Shep. That’s right. There’s another bunch on the left shoulder. Now you’ve got it! Thanks ever so much.” He watched her admiringly as she paraded before the mirrors to make sure that the skirt hung properly. “If there’s to be a row----” he began as she opened a drawer and selected a handkerchief. “Let there be a row! My dear Shep, you’re always too afraid of asserting yourself. What could he do? He might get you up to his office and give you a bad quarter of an hour; but he’d respect you more afterwards if you stood to your guns. His vanity and family pride protect you. Catch him doing anything that might get him into the newspapers--not Franklin Mills!”