“There, there, Edna,” he said. “It is all right. I’m a little worried to-night, that’s all. I’m afraid there’s going to be trouble with the men. It is a difficult situation, and I have to deal with it alone. A strike seems inevitable, and one never can tell where it will end.” “And is he one of the strikers? It seems impossible.” A look of annoyance swept over her father’s face. “He? Why the----Edna, you return to a subject with all the persistency of a woman. Yes. He will doubtless go on strike to-morrow with all the rest of the fools. He is a workman, if you want to know; and furthermore, he is going on strike when he doesn’t believe in it--going merely because the others go. He admitted it to me shortly before you came in. So you see how much you are able to read in a man’s face.” “I shouldn’t have thought it,” said the girl, with a sigh. “Perhaps if you had given him what he wanted he would not go on strike.” “Oh, now you are making him out worse than even I think him. I don’t imagine he is bribable, you know.” “Would that be bribery?” “Suspiciously like it; but he can strike or not as he wishes--one more or less doesn’t matter to me. I hope, if they go, they will go in a body; a few remaining would only complicate things. Now that you understand all about the situation, are you satisfied? It isn’t every woman I would discuss it with, you know, so you ought to be flattered.” Sartwell was his own man once more, and he was mentally resolving not to be thrown off the centre again. “Yes, father, and thank you,” said the girl. “The cab is waiting,” she added, more to let him know that so far as she was concerned the discussion was ended, than to impart the information conveyed in her words. “Let it wait. That’s what cabs are for. The cabby usually likes it better than hurrying. Sit down a moment, Edna; I’ll be ready presently.” The girl sat down beside her father’s table. Usually Mr. Sartwell preferred his desk to his table, for the desk was tall where a man stands when he writes. This desk had three compartments, with a lid to each. These were always locked, and Sartwell’s clerks had keys to two of them. The third was supposed to contain the manager’s most private papers, as no one but himself ever saw the inside of it. The lid locked automatically when it was shut, and the small key that opened it dangled at Sartwell’s watch-chain.