Dresser protested loudly, and irritated by the doctor's scepticism began to leak, to tell things he had seen, to show a little of the inside of the labor counsels. He had evidently seen more than Sommers had believed possible, and his active, ferreting mind had imagined still more. The two women listened open-mouthed to his story of the strike, and feeling where the sympathy lay Dresser spoke largely to them. "You seem to have found something to do?" Sommers remarked significantly at the close. "I'm assistant editor of a paper," Dresser explained. Sommers laughed. "Herr Most's old sheet?" "_The Investor's Monthly_." Sommers shrieked with laughter, and patted Dresser on the back. "Sammy, you're a great man! I have never done you justice." "The management has been changed," Dresser said gruffly. "They wanted a man of education, not a mere reporter." "Who owns it?" "R. G. Carson has the controlling interest." Sommers relapsed into laughter. "So this is your ranch in Montana?" Dresser rose with an offended air. "Oh! sit down, man. I am complimenting you. Haven't you a place as office boy, compositor, or something for a needy friend?" "I don't see what you're so funny about, doctor," Miss M'Gann expostulated. "Spoiling the Philistines, you see," Dresser added, making an effort to chime in with Sommers's irony. They talked late. Webber, the stylish young clerk, dropped in, and the conversation roamed over the universal topics of the day,--the hard times, the position of the employee in a corporation, etc. The clerk in the Baking Powder Trust was inclined to philosophical acceptance of present conditions. Abstractly there might not be much justice for the poor, but here in the new part of the country every man had his chance to be on top, to become a capitalist. There was the manager of the B. P. T. He had begun on ten dollars a week, but he had bided his time, bought stock in the little mill where he started, and now that the consolidation was arranged, he was in a fair way to become a rich man. To be rich, to have put yourself outside the ranks of the precarious classes--that was the clerk's ambition. Dresser was doubtful whether the good, energetic young clerk could repeat in these days the experience of the manager of the B. P. T. The two women took part in the argument, and finally Alves summed the matter up: "If we could, all of us would be rich, and then we should feel like the rich, and want to keep what we could. But as we have to labor hard for a little joy, it's best to get the joy, as much as you can, and not fret over the work." * * * * *