“Did she? I saw her at the Rink, too, but of course not to speak with.” Turner Joyce trod gently but encouragingly on his wife's foot. He felt that Oakley would be none the worse for a little cheer, and he had unbounded faith in his wife's delicacy and tact. She was just the person for such a message. “She seemed--that is, I gathered from what she said, and it wasn't so much what she said as what she didn't say--” Dan laughed outright, and Joyce joined in with a panic-stricken chuckle. Ruth was making as bad a botch of the business as he could have made. “I am not at all sensitive,” said Dan, with sudden candor. “I have admired her immensely; I do still, for the matter of that.” “Then why don't you go there?” “I can't, Mrs. Joyce. You know why.” “But I think she looks at it differently now.” Oakley shook his head. “No, she doesn't. There's just one way she can look at it.” “Women are always changing their minds,” persisted Ruth. It occurred to her that Constance had been at her worst in her relation with Oakley. If she cared a scrap for him, why hadn't she stood by him when he needed it most? The little artist blinked tenderly at his wife. He was lost in admiration at her courage. He would not have dared to give their friend this comfort. The conversation languished. They heard the strains of the band when the meeting at the Rink broke up, and the voices of the people on the street, and then there was silence again. CHAPTER XVIII THE hot days dragged on. Dan and his father moved down to the shops. Two cots were placed in the pattern-room, where they slept, and where Roger Oakley spent most of his time reading his Bible or in brooding over the situation. Their meals were brought to them from the hotel. It was not that Dan suspected the men of any sinister intentions, but he felt it was just as well that they should understand the utter futility of any lawlessness, and, besides, his father was much happier in the solitude of the empty shops than he could have been elsewhere in Antioch. All day long he followed McClintock about, helping with such odd jobs as were necessary to keep the machinery in perfect order. He was completely crushed and broken in spirit He had aged, too. At the office Dan saw only Holt and McClintock. Sick of Kerr's presence, and exasperated at his evident sympathy for the strikers--a sympathy he was at no pains to conceal--he had laid him off, a step that was tantamount to dismissal. Miss Walton was absent on her vacation, which he extended from week to week. It was maddening to him to have her around with nothing to do, for he and Holt found it difficult to keep decently busy themselves, now the shops had closed. Holloway, the vice-president of the road, visited Antioch just once during the early days of the strike. He approved--being of an approving disposition--of all Oakley had done, and then went back home to Chicago, after telling him not to yield a single point in the fight.