It was the first day of the A. R. U. boycott. Sommers left the Athenian Building at noon, for Dr. Lindsay's clients carried their infirmities out of town in hot weather. He took his way across the city toward the station of the Northwestern Railroad, wondering whether Debs's threats had been carried out, and if consequently he should be compelled to remain in town over Sunday. On the street corners and in front of the newspaper offices little knots of men, wearing bits of white ribbon in their buttonholes, were idling. They were quiet, curious, dully waiting to see what this preposterous stroke might mean for them. In the heavy noonday air of the streets they moved lethargically, drifting westward to the hall where the A. R. U. committees were in session. Oblivious of his engagements, Sommers followed them, hearing the burden of their talk, feeling their aimless discontent, their bitterness at the grind of circumstances. This prodigal country of theirs had been exploited,--shamefully, rapaciously, swinishly,--and now that the first signs of exhaustion were showing themselves, the people's eyes were opening to the story of greed. Democracy! Say, rather, Plutocracy, the most unblushing the world had ever seen,--the aristocracy of THOSE WHO HAVE. Thus meditating, he jostled against a group of men who were coming from a saloon. All but one wore the typical black clothes and derby hats of the workman's best attire; one had on a loose-fitting, English tweed suit. In this latter person Sommers was scarcely surprised to recognize Dresser. The big shoulders of the blond-haired fellow towered above the others; he was talking excitedly, and they were listening. When they started to cross the street, Sommers touched Dresser. "What are you doing here?" he demanded abruptly. "What are _you_ doing? You had better get out of town along with your rich friends." He motioned sneeringly at the bag in Sommers's hand. "I fancied you might be up to something of this kind," Sommers went on, unheeding his sneer. "I had enough of that job of faking up text-books and jollying schoolteachers. So I chucked it." "Why did you chuck me, too?" "I thought you might be sick of having me hang about, and especially now that I am in with the other crowd." "That's rot," Sommers laughed. "However, you needn't feel it necessary to apologize. What are you doing with 'the other crowd'?" "I'm secretary of the central committee," Dresser replied, with some importance. "Oh, that's it!" Sommers exclaimed. "It's better than being a boot-licker to the rich." "Like the doctors? Well, we won't quarrel. I suppose you mean to give 'us' a hard time of it? Come in when it is all settled, and we will talk it over. Meantime you've got enough mischief on your hands to last you for some months." "I don't blame you," Dresser said benignantly, "for your position. Perhaps if _I_ had had the opportunities--"