"We'd have to give up the Newport house," he went on, "put the yacht out of commission and lessen expenses here." She looked at her husband in consternation. After several years of effort Mrs. Baxter was just getting into the outer edge of the upper crust of New York society. At her husband's words she saw all that she had striven for, and which of late had seemed near of attainment, withdraw into the shadowy recesses of an uncertain future. "But we can't cut down!" she cried desperately. "We simply can't! We couldn't entertain here in the manner we have planned. And we'd have to go to Atlantic City this summer, or some other such place!--and who goes to Atlantic City? Why, we'd lose everything we've gained! We can never give the raise, James. It's simply out of the question!" "And we won't," said Mr. Baxter, gently tapping a forefinger upon the beautifully carved arm of his chair. "Anyhow, suppose we do spend a hundred and twenty-five thousand, why the working people get everything back in wages," she added ingeniously. Mr. Baxter realized the economic fallacy of this last statement; but he refrained from exposing her sophistry since her conscience found satisfaction in it. Monday morning, in discharge of his duty as president of the Iron Employers' Association, Mr. Baxter got Murphy, Bobbs, Isaacs, and Driscoll, the other four members of the Executive Committee, on the telephone. At eleven o'clock the five men were sitting around Mr. Baxter's cherry table. Bobbs, Murphy, and Isaacs already had knowledge of Tom's plans; Mr. Baxter was not the only one having unionists on his payroll who performed services other than handling beams and hammering rivets. Mr. Driscoll alone was surprised when Mr. Baxter stated the object of calling the committee thus hastily together. "Why, I thought we'd been assured the old schedule would be continued!" he said. "So Mr. Foley gave us to understand," answered Mr. Baxter. "But it's another man, a man named Keating, that's stirring this up." "Keating!" Mr. Driscoll's lips pouted hugely, and his round eyes snapped. For a man to whom he had taken a genuine liking to be stirring up a fight against his interest was in the nature of a personal affront to him. "I think I know him," said Mr. Murphy. "He ain't such a much!" "That shows you don't know him!" said Mr. Driscoll sharply. "Well, if there is a strike, we'll at least have the satisfaction of fighting with an honest man." "That satisfaction, of course," admitted Mr. Baxter, in his soft, rounded voice. "But what shall be our plan? It is certainly the part of wisdom for us to decide upon our attitude, and our course, in advance." "Fight 'em!" said Mr. Driscoll. "What is the opinion of you other gentlemen?"