"I went to Dr. Vince about it first," replied Samuel. "And he wouldn't do anything about it. He said that if I came to you, I must make it clear that he did not approve of it. I have come of my own free will, sir."

There was another pause. "You are going to be angry with me!" cried Samuel, again.

"No," said the other, "I will not be angry—because you are nothing but a child, and you don't know what you are doing."

"Oh!" said Samuel.

"You are very much in need of a little knowledge of life," added the other.

"But, Mr. Wygant," exclaimed the boy, "the things I have said are true!"

"They are true—after a fashion," was the reply.

"And they are very wrong things!"

"They seem so to you. That is because you know so little about such matters."

"You are corrupting the government of your country, Mr. Wygant!"

"The government of my country, as you call it, consisting of a number of blackmailing politicians, who exist to prey upon the business I represent."

There was a pause. "You see, young man," said Mr. Wygant, "I have many responsibilities upon my shoulders—many interests looking to me for protection. And it is as if I were surrounded by a pack of wolves."

"But meantime," cried Samuel, "what is becoming of free government?"

"I do not know," the other replied. "I sometimes think that unless the people reform, free government will soon come to an end."

"But what are the people to do, sir?"

"They are to elect honest men, with whom one can do business—instead of the peasant saloon keepers and blatherskite labor leaders whom they choose at present."

Samuel thought for a moment. "Men with whom one can do business," he said—"but what kind of business do you want to do?"

"How do you mean?" asked the other.

"You went to those politicians and got a franchise that will let you tax the people whatever you please for ninety-nine years. And do you think that was good business for the people?"

There was no reply to this.

"And how much of the property you are protecting was made in such ways as that, sir?"

A frown had come upon Mr. Wygant's forehead. But no one could gaze into Samuel's agonized face and remain angry.

"Young man," said he. "I can only tell you again that you do not know the world. If I should step out, would things be any different? The franchises would go to some other crowd—that is all. It is the competition of capital."

"The competition of capital," reflected the boy. "In other words, there is a scramble for money, and you get what you can!"

"You may put it that way, sir."

"And you think that your responsibility ends when you've got a share for your crowd!"

"Yes—I suppose that is it."

There was a pause. "I see perfectly," said Samuel, in a low voice. "There's only one thing I can't understand."

"What is that?"

"Why you should belong to the church, sir? What has this money scramble to do with the teaching of Jesus?"

And then Samuel saw that he had overstepped the mark. "Really, young man," said Mr. Wygant, "I cannot see what is to be gained by pursuing this conversation."

"But, sir, you are degrading the church!"

"The subject must be dropped!" said Mr. Wygant sternly. "You are presuming upon my good nature. You are forgetting your place."

"I have been reminded of my place before," said Samuel, in a suppressed voice. "But I do not know what my place is."

"That is quite evident," responded the other. "It is your place to do your work, and be respectful to your superiors, and keep your opinions to yourself."

"I see that you will get angry with me," said the boy, "I can't make you understand—I am only trying to find the truth. I want to do what's right, Mr. Wygant!"

"I suppose you do," began the other—

"I want to understand, sir—just what is it that makes another person my superior?"

"People who are older than you, and who are wiser—"

"But is it age and wisdom, Mr. Wygant? I worked for Master Albert Lockman, and he's hardly any older than I. And yet he was my superior!"

"Yes," admitted the other—

"And in spite of the wicked life that he's leading, sir!"

"What!"

"Yes, Mr. Wygant—he's drinking, and going with bad women. And yet he is my superior."

"Ahem!" said Mr. Wygant.

"Isn't it simply that he has got a lot of money?" pursued Samuel relentlessly.

Mr. Wygant did not reply.

"And isn't my 'place' simply the fact that I haven't any money at all?"

Again there was no reply.

"And yet, I see the truth, and I have to speak it! And how can I get to a 'place' where I may?"

"Really," said Mr. Wygant coldly, "you will have to solve that problem for yourself."

"Apparently, I should have to take part in the scramble for money—if it's only money that counts."

"Young man," said the other, "I feel sorry for you—you will get some hard knocks from the world before you get through. You will have to learn to take life as you find it. Perhaps many of us would make it different, if we could have our way. But you will find that life is a hard battle. It is a struggle for existence, and the people who survive are the ones who are best fitted—"

And suddenly Samuel raised his hand. "I thank you, Mr. Wygant," he said gravely, "but I have been all through that part of it before."

"What do you mean?" asked the other.

"I couldn't explain," said he. "You wouldn't understand me. I see that you are another of the followers of Herbert Spencer. And that's all right—only WHY do you belong to the church? Why do you pretend to follow Jesus—-"

And suddenly Mr. Wygant rose to his feet. "This is quite too much," he said. "I must ask you to leave my house."

"But, sir!" cried Samuel.

"Not another word!" exclaimed the other. "Please leave the house!"

And so the conversation came to an end.



CHAPTER XXIV

Samuel had had nothing to eat since morning, but he did not feel hungry. He was faint from grief and despair. To encounter a man of the world like Mr. Wygant, cold and merciless and masterful—that was a terrible ordeal for him. The man seemed to him like some great fortress of evil; and what could he do, save to gaze at it in impotent rage?

He went home, and Sophie met him at the door. "I thought you wanted an early supper, Samuel," said she.

"Why?" he asked dully.

"You had something to do at the church tonight!"

"Yes," he recollected, "there's to be a vestry meeting, and I have to light up. But I'm tired of the church work."

"Tired of the church work!" gasped the child. "Yes," he said. And then to the amazed and terrified family, he told the story of his day's experiences.

Sophie listened, thrilling with excitement. "And you went to see Mr. Wygant!" she cried in awe. "Oh, Samuel, how brave of you!"

"He ordered me out of his house," said the boy bitterly. "And Dr. Vince has gone back on me—I have no one at all to help."

Sophie came to him and flung her arms about him. "You have us, Samuel!" she exclaimed. "We will stand by you—won't we mother?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Stedman—"but what can poor people like us do?"

"And then you have Miss Gladys!" cried Sophie after a moment.

"Miss Gladys!" he echoed. "Will she take my part against her own father?"

"She told you that she loved you, Samuel," said the child. "And she knows that you are in the right."

"I will have to go and see her," said Samuel after a little. "I promised that I would come and tell what happened."

"And I will see her, too!" put in the other. "Oh, I'm sure she'll stand by you!"

The child's face was aglow with excitement; and Samuel looked at her, and for the first time it occurred to him that Sophie was really beautiful. Her face had filled out and her color had come back, since she had been getting one meal every day at the Wygant's. "Don't you think Miss Gladys will help, mother?" she asked.

"I don't know," said Mrs. Stedman dubiously.

"It's very terrible—I can't see why such things have to be."

"You think that Samuel did right, don't you?" cried the child.

"I—I suppose so," she answered. "It's hard to say—it will make so much trouble. And if Miss Gladys were angry, then you might lose your place!"

"Oh, mother!" cried Sophie. And the two young people gazed at each other in sudden dismay. That was something they had never thought of.

"You mustn't do it, Sophie!" cried the boy. "You must leave it to me!"

"But why should you make all the sacrifices?" replied Sophie. "If it's right for you, isn't it right for me?"

"But, Sophie!" wailed Mrs. Stedman. "If you lost this place we should all starve!"

And again they stared at each other with terror in their eyes. "Sophie," said Samuel, "I forbid you to have anything to do with it!"

But in his heart he knew that he might as well not have said this. And Mrs. Stedman knew it, too, and turned white with fear.

The boy ate a few hurried mouthfuls, and then went off to his work at the church. But he did not go with the old joy in his soul. Before this it had been the work of the Lord that he had been doing; but now he was only serving the Wygants—and the Hickmans—apparently one always served them, no matter where or how he worked in this world.

"You are late," said old Mr. Jacobs, the sexton, when he arrived.

"Yes, sir," said Samuel.

"Dr. Vince left word that he wanted to see you as soon as you came."

The boy's heart gave a leap. Had the doctor by any chance repented? "Where is he?" he asked.

"In the vestry room," said the other; and the boy went there.

The instant he entered, Dr. Vince sprang to his feet. "Samuel," he cried vehemently, "this thing has got to stop!"

"What thing, Dr. Vince?"

"Your conduct is beyond endurance, boy—you are driving me to distraction!"

"What have I done now, sir?"

"My brother-in-law has just been here, making a terrible disturbance. You have been defaming him among the congregation of the church!"

"But, Dr. Vince!" cried Samuel, in amazement. "I have done nothing of the sort!"

"But you must have! Everyone is talking about it!"

"Doctor," said the boy solemnly, "you are mistaken. I went to see Mr. Wygant, as I told you I would. Besides that, I have not spoken to a single soul about it, except just now to Sophie and Mrs. Stedman.— Oh, yes," he added quickly—"and to Miss Gladys!"

"Ah!" exclaimed the other. "There you have it! Miss Gladys is a school friend of Mr. Hickman's daughter; and, of course, she went at once to tell her. And, of course, she will tell everyone else she knows—the whole congregation will be gossiping about it to-morrow!"

"I am very sorry, sir."

"You see the trouble you cause me! And I must tell you plainly, Samuel, that this thing cannot go on another minute. Unless you are prepared to give up these absurd ideas of yours and attend to your duties as the sexton's boy, it will be necessary for you to leave the church."

Samuel was staring at him aghast. "Leave the church!" he cried.

"Most assuredly!" declared the other.

"Dr. Vince!" exclaimed the other. "Do you mean that you would actually try to turn me out of the church?"

"I would, sir!"

"But, doctor, have you the right to do that?"

"The right? Why not?"

"You have the right to take away my work. But to turn me out of the church?"

"Samuel," cried the distracted clergyman, "am I not the rector of this church?"

"But, doctor," cried Samuel, "it is the church of God!"

There was a long pause.

Finally, Samuel took up the conversation again. "Tell me, Dr. Vince," he said. "When Mr. Hickman came to see you, did he deny that he had committed that crime?"

"I did not ask him," replied the other.

"You didn't ask him!" exclaimed the boy in dismay. "You didn't even care that much?"

Again there was a pause. "I asked Mr. Wygant," said Samuel in a low voice. "And he confessed that he was guilty."

"What!" cried the other.

"He confessed it—his whole conversation was a confession of it. He said everybody did those things, because that was the way to make money, and everybody wanted to make money. He called it competition. And then I asked him why he came to the church of Jesus, and he ordered me out of his house."

Dr. Vince was listening with knitted brows. "And what do you propose to do now," he asked.

"I don't know, sir. I suppose I shall have to expose him."

"Samuel," exclaimed the clergyman, "in all this wild behavior of yours, does it never occur to you that you owe some gratitude to me?"

"Oh, doctor!" cried the boy, clasping his hands in agony. "Don't say anything like that to me!"

"I do say it!" persisted the other. "I saved you and helped you; and now you are causing me most terrible suffering!"

"Doctor," protested Samuel, "I would do anything in the world for you- -I would die for you. But you ask me to be false to my duty; and how can I do that?"

"But does it never occur to you that older and wiser people may be better able to judge than you are?"

"But the facts are so plain, sir! And you have never answered me! You simply command me to be silent!"

The other did not reply.

"When I came to you," went on Samuel, "you taught me about love and brotherhood—about self-sacrifice and service. And I took you at your word, sir. As God is my witness, I have done nothing but try to apply what you told me! I have tried to help the poor and oppressed. And how could I know that you did not really mean what you said?"

"Samuel," protested the other, "you have no right to say that! I am doing all that I can. I preach upon these things very often."

"Yes!" exclaimed the boy, "but what do you preach? Do you tell the truth to these rich people who come to your church? Do you say to them: 'You are robbing the poor. You are the cause of all the misery which exists in this town—you carry the guilt of it upon your souls. And you must cease from robbery and oppression—you must give up this wealth that you have taken from the people!' No—you don't say that— you know that you don't! And can't you see what that means, Dr. Vince- -it means that the church is failing in its mission! And there will have to be a new church—somewhere, somehow! For these things exist! They are right here in our midst, and something must be done!"

And the boy sprang forward in his excitement, stretching out his arms. "The people are starving! Right here about us—here in Lockmanville! They are starving! starving! starving! Don't you understand, Dr. Vince? Starving!"

The doctor wrung his hands in his agitation. "Boy," he exclaimed, "this thing cannot go on. I cannot stand it any longer!"

"But what am I to do, sir?"

"You are to submit yourself to my guidance. I ask you, once for all, Will you give up these wild courses of yours?"

"Dr. Vince," cried Samuel, "I cannot! I cannot!"

"Then I tell you it will be necessary for us to part. You will give up your position, and you will leave the church."

The tears started into Samuel's eyes. "Doctor," he cried frantically, "don't cast me out! Don't! I beg you on my knees, sir!"

"I have spoken," said the other, clenching his hands.

"But think what you are doing!" protested the boy. "You are casting out your own soul! You are turning your back upon the truth!"

"I tell you you must go!" exclaimed the doctor.

"But think of it! It means the end of the church. For don't you see—I shall have to fight you! I shall have to expose you! And I shall prevail over you, because I have the truth with me—because you have cast it out! Think what you are doing when you cast out the truth!"

"I will hear no more of this!" cried Dr. Vince wildly. "You are raving. I tell you to go! I tell you to go! Go now!"

And Samuel turned and went, sobbing meanwhile as if his heart would break.



CHAPTER XXV

Samuel rushed away into the darkness. But he couldn't stay away—he could not bring himself to believe that he was separated from St. Matthew's forever. He turned and came back to the church, and stood gazing at it, choking with his sobs.

Then, as he waited, he saw an automobile draw up in front of the side entrance, and saw Mr. Wygant step out and enter. The sight was like a blow in the face to him. There was the proud rich man, defiant and unpunished, seated in the place of authority; while Samuel, the Seeker, was turned out of the door!

A blaze of rebellion flamed up in him. No, no—they should not cast him off! He would fight them—he would fight to the very end. The church was not their church—it was the church of God! And he had a right to belong to it—and to speak the truth in it, too!

And so, just after the vestry had got settled to the consideration of the architect's sketch for the new Nurse's Home, there came a loud knock upon the door, and Samuel entered, wild-eyed and breathless.

"Gentlemen!" he cried. "I demand a hearing!"

Dr. Vince sprang to his feet in terror. "Samuel Prescott!" he exclaimed.

"I have been ordered out of the church!" proclaimed Samuel. "And I will not submit to it! I have spoken the truth, and I will not permit the evil-doers in St. Matthew's to silence me!"

Mr. Hickman had sprung up. "Boy," he commanded, "leave this room!"

"I will not leave the room!" shouted Samuel. "I demand a hearing from the vestry of this church. I have a right to a hearing! I have spoken the truth, and nothing but the truth!"

"What is the boy talking about?" demanded another of the vestrymen. This was Mr. Hamerton, a young lawyer, whose pleasant face Samuel had often noticed. And Samuel, seeing curiosity and interest in his look, sprang toward him.

"Don't let them turn me out without a hearing!" he cried.

"Boy!" exclaimed Mr. Hickman, "I command you to leave this room."

"You corrupted the city council!" shrilled Samuel. "You bribed it to beat the water bill! It's true, and you know it's true, and you don't dare to deny it!"

Mr. Hickman was purple in the face with rage. "It's a preposterous lie!" he roared.

"I have talked with one of the men who got the money!" cried Samuel. "There was two thousand dollars paid to ten of the supervisors."

"Who is this man?" cried the other furiously.

"I won't tell his name," said Samuel. "He told me in confidence."

"Aha!" laughed the other. "I knew as much! It is a vile slander!"

"It is true!" protested Samuel. "Dr. Vince, you know that I am telling the truth. What reason would I have for making it up?"

"I have told you, Samuel," exclaimed Dr. Vince, "that I would have nothing to do with this matter."

"I will take any member of this vestry to talk with that man!" declared the boy. "Anybody can find out about these things if he wants to. Why, Mr. Wygant told me himself that he had paid money to Slattery to get franchises!"

And then Mr. Wygant came into the controversy. "WHAT!" he shouted.

"Why, of course you did!" cried Samuel in amazement. "Didn't you tell me this very afternoon?"

"I told you nothing of the sort!" declared the man.

"You told me everybody did it—that there was no way to help doing it. You called it the competition of capital!" "I submit that this is an outrage!" exclaimed Mr. Hickman. "Leave this room, sir!"

"The poor people in this town are suffering and dying!" cried Samuel. "And they are being robbed and oppressed. And are these things to go on forever?"

"Samuel, this is no place to discuss the question!" broke in Dr. Vince.

"But why not, sir? The guilty men are high in the councils of this church. They hold the church up to disgrace before all the world. And this is the church of Christ, sir!"

"But yours is not the way to go about it, boy!" exclaimed Mr. Hamerton—who was alarmed because Samuel kept looking at him.

"Why not?" cried Samuel. "Did not Christ drive out the moneychangers from the temple with whips?"

This was an uncomfortable saying. There was a pause after it, as if everyone were willing to let his neighbor speak first.

"Are we not taught to follow Christ's example, Dr. Vince?" asked the boy.

"Hardly in that sense, Samuel," said the terrified doctor. "Christ was God. And we can hardly be expected—"

"Ah, that is a subterfuge!" broke in Samuel, passionately. "You say that Christ was God, and so you excuse yourself from doing what He tells you to! But I don't believe that He was God in any such sense as that. He was a man, like you and me! He was a poor man, who suffered and starved! And the rich men of His time despised Him and spit upon Him and crucified Him!"

Here a new member of the vestry entered the arena. This was the venerable Mr. Curtis, who looked like a statue of the Olympian Jove. "Boy," he said sternly, "you object to being put out of the church— and yet you confess to being an infidel."

"I may be an infidel, Mr. Curtis," replied the other, quickly; "but I never paid two hundred dollars to Slattery so that the police would let me block the sidewalks of the town."

And Mr. Curtis subsided and took no further part in the discussion.

"The church cast out Jesus!" went on Samuel, taking advantage of the confusion. "And it was the rich and powerful in the church who did it. And he used about them language far more violent than I have ever used. 'Woe unto you, scribes and pharisees, hypocrites!' he said. 'Woe unto you also, you lawyers!—Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers, how can ye escape the damnation of hell?' And if He were here tonight He would be on my side—and the rich evil-doers who sit on this board would cast Him out again! You have cast Him out already! You have shut your ears to the cry of the oppressed—you make mockery of justice and truth! You are crucifying Him again every day!"

"This is outrageous!" cried Mr. Hickman. "It is blasphemy!"

"It must stop instantly," put in Mr. Wygant. And Samuel knew that when Mr. Wygant spoke, he meant to be obeyed.

"Then there is no one here who will hear me?" he exclaimed. "Mr. Hamerton, won't you help me?"

"What do you want us to do?" demanded Mr. Hamerton.

"I want the vestry to investigate these charges. I want you to find out whether it is true that members of St. Matthew's have been corrupting the government of Lockmanville. And if it is true, I want you to drive such men from the church! They have no place in the church, sir! Men who spend their whole time in trying to get the people's money from them! Men who openly declare, as Mr. Wygant did to me, that it is necessary to bribe lawmakers in order to make money! Such men degrade the church and drag it from its mission. They are the enemies the church exists to fight—"

"Are we here to listen to a sermon from this boy?" shouted Mr. Hickman furiously.

"Samuel, leave this room!" commanded Dr. Vince.

"Then there is no one here who will help me?"

"I told you you could accomplish nothing by such behavior. Leave the room!"

"Very well, then," cried the boy wildly, "I will go. But I tell you I will not give up without a fight. I will expose you and denounce you to the world! The people shall know you for what you are—cowards and hypocrites, faithless to your trust! Plunderers of the public! Corrupters of the state!"

"Get out of here, you young villain!" shouted Hickman, advancing with a menace.

And the boy, blazing with fury, pointed his finger straight into his face. "You, Henry Hickman!" he cried. "You are the worst of them all! You, the great lawyer—the eminent statesman! I have been among the lowest—I have been with saloon keepers and criminals—with publicans and harlots and thieves—but never yet have I met a man as merciless and as hard as you! You a Christian—you might be the Roman soldier who spat in Jesus' face!"

And with that last thunderbolt Samuel turned and went out, slamming the door with a terrific bang in the great lawyer's face.

For at least a couple of hours Samuel paced the streets of Lockmanville, to let his rage and grief subside. And then he went home, and to his astonishment found that Sophie Stedman had been waiting up for him all this while.

She listened breathlessly to the story of his evening's adventures. Then she said, "I have been trying to do something, too."

"What have you done?" he asked.

"I went to see little Ethel," she replied.

"Ethel Vince!" he gasped.

"Yes," said she. "She is your friend, you know; and I went to ask her not to let her father turn you off."

"And what came of it?"

"She cried," said Sophie. "She was terribly unhappy. She said that she knew that you were a good boy; and that she would never rest until her father had taken you back."

"You don't mean it!" cried Samuel in amazement.

"Yes, Samuel; but then her mother came."

"Oh! And what then?"

"She scolded me! She was very angry with me. She said I had no right to fill the child's mind with falsehoods about her uncle. And she wouldn't listen to me—she turned me out of the house."

There was a long silence. "I don't think I did any good at all," said Sophie in a low voice. "We are going to have to do it all by ourselves."



CHAPTER XXVI

Samuel slept not a wink all that night. First he lay wrestling with the congregation. And then his thoughts came to Miss Gladys, and what he was going to say to her. This kindled a fire in his blood, and when the first streaks of dawn were in the sky, he rose and went out to walk.

Throughout all these adventures, his feelings had been mingled with the excitement of his love for her. Samuel hardly knew what to make of himself. He had never kissed a woman in his life before—but now desire was awake, and from the deeps of him the most unexpected emotions came surging, sweeping him away. He was a prey to longings and terrors. Wild ecstasies came to him, and then followed plunges into melancholy. He longed to see her, and other things stood in the way, and he did not know why he should be so tormented.

Just to be in love would have been enough. But to have been given the love of a being like Miss Gladys—peerless and unapproachable, almost unimaginable!

After hours of pacing the streets, he called to see her. And she came to him, her face alight with eager curiosity, and crying, "Tell me all about it!"

She listened, almost dumb with amazement. "And you said that to my father!" she exclaimed again and again. "And to Mr. Hickman! And to old Mr. Curtis! Samuel! Samuel!"

"It was all true, Miss Gladys," he insisted.

"Yes," she said—"but—to say it to them!"

"They turned me out of the church," he went on. "Had they a right to do that?"

"I don't know," she answered. "Oh, my, what a time there will be!"

"And what are you going to do now?" she asked after a pause.

"I don't know. I wanted to talk about it with you."

"But what do you think of doing?"

"I must expose them to the people."

Miss Gladys looked at him quickly. "Oh, no, Samuel," she said—"you mustn't do that!"

"Why not, Miss Gladys?"

"Because—it wouldn't do."

"But Miss Gladys—"

"It wouldn't be decent, Samuel. And it's so much more effective to talk with people privately, as you have been doing."

"But who else is there to talk to?"

"Why, I don't know. We'll have to think."

"It's your father and Mr. Hickman I have to deal with, Miss Gladys. And they won't listen to me any more!"

"Perhaps not. But, then, see how much you have done already!"

"What have I done?"

"Think how ashamed you have made them!"

"But what difference does that make, Miss Gladys? Don't you see they've still got the money they've taken?"

There was a pause. "This is something I have been thinking," said Samuel gravely. "I've had this great burden laid upon me, and I must carry it. I have to see the thing through to the end. And I'm afraid it will be painful to you. You may feel that you can't possibly marry me."

At these words Miss Gladys gave a wild start. She stared at him in consternation. "Marry you!" she gasped.

"Yes," he said; and then, seeing the look upon her face, he stopped.

"Marry you!" she panted again.

A silence followed, while they gazed at each other.

"Why, Samuel!" she exclaimed.

"Miss Gladys," he said in a low voice, "you told me that you loved me."

"Yes," she said, "but surely—" And then suddenly she bit her lips together exclaiming, "This has gone too far!"

"Miss Gladys!" he cried.

"Samuel," she said, "we have been two bad children; and we must not go on in this way."

The boy gave a gasp of amazement.

"I had no idea that you were taking me so seriously," she continued. "It wasn't fair to me."

"Then—then you don't love me!" he panted.

"Why—perhaps," she replied, "how can I tell? But one does not marry because one loves, Samuel."

He gazed at her, speechless.

"I thought we were playing with each other; and I thought you understood it. It wasn't very wise, perhaps—-"

"Playing with each other!" whispered the boy, his voice almost gone.

"You take everything with such frightful seriousness," she protested. "Really, I don't think you had any right—-"

"Miss Gladys!" he cried in sudden anguish; and she stopped and stared at him, frightened.

"Do you know what you have done to me?" he exclaimed.

"Samuel," she said in a trembling voice, "I am very much surprised and upset. I had no idea of such a thing; and you must stop, before it is too late."

"But I love you!" he cried, half beside himself.

"Yes," she said in great agitation—"and that's very good of you. But there are some things you. must remember—"

"You—you let me embrace you, Miss Gladys! You let me think of you so! Why, what is a man to do? What was I to make of it? I had never loved a woman before. And you—you led me on—"

"Samuel, you must not talk like this!" she broke in. "I can't listen to you. It was a misunderstanding, and you must forget it all. You must go away. We must not meet again."

"Miss Gladys!" he cried in horror.

"Yes," she exclaimed, "you must go—"

"You are going to turn me off!" he panted. "Oh, how can you say such a thing? Why, think what you have done to me!"

"Samuel," protested the girl angrily, "this is perfectly preposterous behavior of you! You have no right to go on in this way. You never had any right to—to think such things. How could you so forget your place?"

And he started as if stung with a whip. "My place!" he gasped.

"Yes," she said.

"I see, I see!" he burst out. "It's my 'place' again. It's the fact that I have no money!"

"Why, Samuel!" she exclaimed. "What a thing to say! It's not that—"

"It's that, and it's nothing but that! It never is anything but that! It's because I am a poor boy, and couldn't help myself! You told me that you loved me, and I believed you. You were so beautiful, and I thought that you must be good! Why, I worshiped the very ground you walked on. I would have done anything in the world for you—I would have died for you! I went about thinking about you all day—I made you into a dream of everything that was good and perfect! And now—now— you say that you were only playing with me! Using me for your selfish pleasure—just as you do all the other poor people!"

"Samuel!" she gasped.

"Just as your father does the children in his mill! Just as your cousin does the poor girls he seduces! Just as you do everything in life that you touch!"

The girl had turned scarlet with anger. "How dare you speak to me that way?" she cried.

"I dare to speak the truth to anyone! And that is the truth about you! You are like all the rest of them—the members of your class. You are parasites—vampires—you devour other people's lives! And you are the worst, because you are a woman! You are beautiful, and you ought to be all the things that I imagined you were! But you use your beauty for a snare—you wreck men's lives with it—"

"Stop, Samuel!"

"I won't stop! You shall hear me! You drew me on deliberately—you wanted to amuse yourself with me, to see what I would do. And you had never a thought about me, or my rights, or the harm you might be doing to me! And now you've got tired—and you tell me to end it! You tell me about my 'place!' What am I in the world for, but to afford you amusement? What are all the working people for but to save you trouble and keep you beautiful and happy? What are the children for but to spin clothes for you to wear? And you—what do you do for them, to pay for their wasted lives, for all their toil and suffering?"

"Samuel Prescott!" cried the outraged girl. "I will not hear another word of this!"

"Yes, that's just what your father said! And what your cousin said! And what your clergyman said! And you can send for the butler and have me put out—but let me tell you that will not be the end of it. We shall find some way to get at you! The people will not always be your slaves—they will not always give their lives to keep you in idleness and luxury! You were born to it—you've had everything in the world that you wanted, from the first hour of your life. And you think that will go on forever, that nothing can ever change it! But let me tell you that it seems different to the people underneath! We are tired of being robbed and spit upon! And we mean to fight! We mean to fight! We don't intend to be starved and tormented forever!"

And then in the midst of his wild tirade, Samuel stopped, and stared with horror in his eyes—realizing that this was Miss Gladys to whom he was talking! And suddenly a storm of sobs rose in him; and he put his hands to his face, and burst into tears, and turned and rushed from the room.

He went down the street, like a hunted animal, beside himself with grief, and looking for some place to hide. And as he ran on, he pulled out the faded pictures he had carried next to his heart, and tore them into pieces and flung them to the winds.



CHAPTER XXVII

When Sophie came home that evening, Samuel had mastered himself. He told her the story without a tremor in his voice. And this was well, for he was not prepared for the paroxysm of emotion with which the child received the news. Miss Gladys had been the last of Samuel's illusions; but she was the only one that Sophie had ever had. The child had made her life all over out of the joy of working for her; and now, hearing the story of her treatment of Samuel, she was almost beside herself with grief.

Samuel was frightened at her violence. "Listen, Sophie," he said, putting his arm around her. "We must not forget our duty."

"I could never go back there again!" exclaimed the child wildly. "I should die if I had to see her again!"

"I don't mean that," said the other quickly—seeking to divert her thoughts. "But you must remember what I have to do; and you must help me."

He went on to tell her of his plan to fight for the possession of St. Matthew's Church. "And we must not give way to bitterness," he said; "it would be a very wicked thing if we did it from anger."

"But how can you help it?" she cried.

"It is hard," said Samuel; "but I have been wrestling with myself. We must not hate these people. They have done evil to us, but they do not realize it—they are poor human beings like the rest of us."

"But they are bad, selfish people!" exclaimed the child.

"I have thought it all out," said he. "I have been walking the streets all day, thinking about it. And I will not let myself feel anything but pity for them. They have done me wrong, but it is nothing to the wrong they have done themselves."

"Oh, Samuel, you are so good!" exclaimed Sophie; and he winced— because that was what Miss Gladys had said to him.

"I had to settle it with myself," he explained. "I have got to carry on a fight against them, and I have to be sure that I'm not just venting my spite."

"What are you going to do?" asked Sophie.

"I am going to put the facts before the congregation of the church. If they will do nothing, I am going to the people."

"But how, Samuel?"

"I am going to call a meeting. See, I have written this."

And he took from his pocket a piece of paper, on which he had printed, in capital letters, as follows:

TO THE MEMBERS OF ST. MATTHEWS!

"There is corruption in the church. Members of its vestry have bribed the government of the town. They are robbing the people. The vestry has refused me a hearing and turned me out of the church. I appeal to the congregation. Next Wednesday evening, at eight o'clock, I will address a meeting on the vacant lot opposite the church, and will tell what I know. SAMUEL PRESCOTT."

"And what are you going to do with that?" asked Sophie in wonder.

"I am going to have it printed on little slips, and give them out to the people when they are coming out of the church to-morrow morning."

"Oh, Samuel!" gasped the child.

"I have to do it," he said.

"But, Samuel, everyone will come—people from all over town."

"I can't help that," he answered. "I can't afford to hire a hall; and they wouldn't let me speak in the church."

"But can you get this printed so quickly?"

"I don't know," said he. "I must find some one."

Sophie clapped her hands suddenly. "Oh, I know just the very thing!" she cried. "Friedrich Bremer has a printing press!"

"What!"

"Yes. His father used to print things. They will tell us." And so, without stopping to eat, the two hurried off to the Bremer family; and mother and father and all the children sat and listened in astonishment while Samuel told his tale. Friedrich was thrilling with excitement; and old Johann's red face grew fiery.

"Herr Gott!" he cried. "I vas that vay myself once!"

"And then will you help me to get them printed?" asked Samuel.

"Sure!" replied the other. "I will do it myself. Vy did I go through the Commune?" And so the whole family adjourned to the attic, and the little printing outfit was dragged out from under the piles of rubbish.

"I used it myself," said the old carpet designer. "But vhen I come here they give me a varning, and I haf not dared. For two years I haf not even been to the meetings of the local."

"Of the what?" asked Samuel.

"I am a Socialist," explained Mr. Bremer. And Samuel gave a start. Ought he to accept any help from Socialists? But meantime Friedrich was sorting out the type, and his father was inspecting Samuel's copy.

"You must make it vith a plenty of paragraphs," he said; "and exclamation points, too. Then they vill read it."

"They'll read it!" said Friedrich grimly.

"How shall we print it?" asked the father; and the children rushed downstairs and came back with some sheets of writing paper, and a lot of brown wrapping paper. They sat on the floor and folded and cut it, while Friedrich set the type. And this was the way of the printing of Samuel's first manifesto.

"Can you make a speech?" Mrs. Bremer asked. "Won't you be frightened?"

To which Samuel answered gravely: "I don't think so. I shall be thinking about what I have to say."

It was late at night when the two children went home, with three hundred copies of the revolutionary document carefully wrapped up from view; and they were so much excited by the whole affair that they had actually forgotten about Miss Gladys! It was not until he tried to go to sleep that her image came back to him, and all his blasted hopes arose to mock at him. What a fool he had been! How utterly insane all his fantasies seemed to him now! So he passed another sleepless night, and it was not till daylight that he fell into a troubled slumber.

He had to control his impatience until after eleven o'clock, the hour of the service at the church. Sophie wished to go with him and share his peril, but he would not consent to this. He would not be able to give the manifesto to everyone, but he could reach enough—the others would hear about it! So, a full hour before the end of the service, he took up his post across the street, his heart beating furiously. He was feeling, it must be confessed, a good deal like a dynamiter or an assassin. The weather was warm, and the door of the church was open, so that he could hear the booming voice of Dr. Vince. The sound of the organ brought tears into his eyes—he loved the organ, and he was not to be allowed to listen to it! At last came the end; the sounds of the choir receded, and the assassin moved over to a strategic position. And then came the first of the congregation—of all persons, the Olympian Mr. Curtis!

"Will you take one of these, sir?" said Samuel, with his heart in his throat. And Mr. Curtis who was mopping his forehead with his handkerchief, started as if he had seen a ghost. "Boy, what are you doing?" he cried; but Samuel had darted away, trying to give out the slips of paper to the people as they came out at both doors. He was quite right in saying that everybody would know about it. The people took the slips and read them, and then they stopped to stare and exclaim to one another, so that there was a regular blockade at the doors of the church. By the time that a score of the slips had been given out the members had had time to get their wits back, and then there was an attempt to interfere.

"This is an outrage!" cried Mr. Curtis, and tried to grab Samuel by the arm; but the boy wrenched himself loose and darted around the corner, to where a stream of people had come out of the side door.

"Take one!" he exclaimed. "Pass it along! Let everyone know!" And so he got rid of a score or two more of his slips. And then, keeping a wary lookout for Mr. Curtis or any other of the vestrymen, he ran around in front again, and circled on the edge of the rapidly gathering throng, giving away several of the dodgers wherever a hand was held out. "Give them to everyone!" he kept repeating in his shrill voice.

"The evil-doers must be turned out of the church!"

Then suddenly out of the crowd pushed Mr. Hamerton, breathless and red in the face. "Samuel!" he cried, pouncing upon him, "this cannot go on!"

"But it must go on!" replied the boy. "Let me go! Take your hands off me!" And he raised his voice in a wild shriek. "There are thieves in the church of Christ!"

In the scuffle the dodgers were scattered on the ground; and Mr. Hamerton stooped to pick them up. Samuel seized what he could and darted to the side door again, where there were more people eager to take them. And so he got rid of the last he had. And for the benefit of those whom he still saw emerging, he raised his hands and shouted: "There are men in the vestry of this church who have bribed the city council of Lockmanville! I mean to expose them in a meeting across the street on Wednesday night!" And then he turned, and dodging an outraged church member who sought to lay hold of him, he sped like a deer down the street.

He had made his appeal to the congregation!



CHAPTER XXVIII

Samuel rushed home, breathless, to tell Sophie; and pretty soon came the Bremers, who had been watching the scene from a distance. And the thrilling tale had to be told all over to them.

Then Johann made a novel announcement. "For that meeting," he said, "you must get a permit."

"A permit!" exclaimed Samuel. "From whom?"

"From the police," replied the other. "You must haf it for all street meetings."

"And where do I get it?"

"At the station house, I think."

Samuel did not much fancy a visit to the station house, which he knew far too well already; but he would have gone into a den of lions for the sake of his cause. So, bright and early the next morning, he set out. With Mrs. Stedman's help he had persuaded Sophie that she must return to the Wygants, and so he walked part of the way with her.

There was a new sergeant at the desk, an Irishman. "Please, sir," said the boy, "is this where I get a permit?"

"For what?" asked the other.

"To hold a meeting on the street, sir."

"What sort of a meeting?"

"Why—I've just got something to say to the people, sir."

"Something to say to the people!" echoed the other; and then, suddenly, "What's your name?"

"Samuel Prescott, sir."

And the sergeant's eyes opened wide. "Oh!" he said. "You're that fellow!"

"What did you say?" asked Samuel.

"The chief wants to see you," replied the other.

And so Samuel was escorted into the private room, where Chief McCullagh, red-faced and burly, sat at his desk. When he saw Samuel he bounded to his feet. "So here you are!" he cried.

To the sergeant he said, "Leave us alone." And when the man had shut the door, he strode toward Samuel, and thrust a finger into his face. "Young fellow," he cried, "you promised me you would get out of this town!"

"No!" exclaimed the boy.

"What?" roared the other.

"No, sir! It was Charlie Swift promised you that!"

"And what did you promise?"

"I promised I wouldn't tell anyone about—about Master Albert, sir. And I haven't done it."

"I told Charlie Swift to take you out of town. And why didn't you go?"

"He didn't—" And then Samuel stopped. He had promised to tell nothing about Charlie.

"Go on!" cried the chief.

"I—I can't tell," he stammered.

"What?" exclaimed the other. "You want to hide things from me? Don't you suppose I know that he's still in town; and that you and him have been doin' jobs?"

"No—no!" cried Samuel in terror.

"You can't lie to me!" threatened the chief. "I know you, you young villain!"

He stood glaring at the boy for a few moments. "And you have the nerve to come here!" he cried. "What do you want anyway?"

"I—I want to hold a meeting, sir."

"Who's given you a license to make trouble in this town?"

"Nobody's given me one yet," replied Samuel. "That's what I came for."

"Don't you get gay with me!" snapped the chief. But Samuel was far from the thought of getting gay with anyone—he was trembling in his boots. The man towered over him like a huge gorilla, and his red face was ferocious.

"Now look here, young fellow!" he went on. "You might as well get this straight. You'll get no permit to make any speeches in Lockmanville! D'ye see?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what's more, you'll not make any speech. D'ye see?"

"But—but—" gasped the boy.

And McCullagh shook his finger so that it almost hit Samuel's nose. "You'll not make any speech! You'll not make it on the street, and you'll not make it anywheres else in town! And you might as well get that through your nut and save yourself trouble. And if I hear of you givin' out any more papers on the street—you'll wish you hadn't— that's all, young fellow! D'ye see?"

"I see," gasped Samuel.

"All right," said the chief. "And if you take my advice, you'll get the first train out of Lockmanville and never show your face in it again. Now get out of here!"

And Samuel got out, and went down the street dumb with dismay. So they had got the police after him!

Of course he would make his speech. He could not let himself be stopped by such a thing as that. But he saw at once how matters were complicated—if the police were to stop him before he had made clear what he had to say, they might ruin all his plans.

He must seek advice about it; and he went at once to the carpet factory, and sought out the little room where the Bremers sat with their drawing boards and paints.

"So that's it!" exclaimed Johann. "They vill shut you up!"

"Do you think they can?" asked the boy.

"Sure they can!" cried the other. "They hafn't let the Socialists speak on the streets for years. We should haf fought them!"

He reached for his coat. "Come," he said. "I vill take you to see Tom Everley."

"Who is Tom Everley?" asked the boy.

"He's a lawyer, and he vill tell you. He's the secretary of the local."

"A Socialist!" exclaimed Samuel, startled. Again it was the Socialists!

Everley sat in a little office in an out-of-the-way street. He was a young chap, frank and boyish-looking, and Samuel's heart warmed to him at once. "Comrade Everley," said the carpet designer, "here is a boy you ought to help. Tell him all about it, Samuel—you can trust him."

So Samuel told his tale once more. And the other listened with breathless interest, and with many exclamations of incredulity and delight. When the boy had finished, he sprang up excitedly and grasped his hand. "Samuel Prescott," he cried, "put it there! You are a brick!"

"Then you'll stand by me!" exclaimed Samuel, breathless with relief.

"Stand by you?" echoed the other. "I'll stand by you until hell freezes solid!"

Then he sat down again, and began tapping nervously on the desk with his pencil. "I'll call a special meeting of the local," he said. "They must take you up. The movement's been slow in Lockmanville of late, and a fight like this is just what the comrades need."

"But I'm not a Socialist!" objected Samuel.

"That's all right," replied Everley, "we don't care about that."

Samuel had not meant it that way, but he could not think how to make his trouble clear.

"I can get the local together to-morrow night," went on the other. "There's no time to be lost. We must get out a lot of circulars and cover the town."

"But I only wanted the people of the church to come," said the boy.

"But others will come anyway," said Everley. "And haven't the people a right to know how they've been robbed?"

"Yes," said Samuel, "they have."

"And perhaps," added the other with a smile, "if the congregation has a little pressure from outside, it will be much more apt to take action. What we've got to do with this thing is to make a free speech fight out of it, and open the eyes of the whole town. Otherwise the police will nip the thing in the bud, and no one will ever know what we had."

"You must be careful how you give out those circulars," put in Johann. "They will nip you there, if they can."

"That's all right," laughed Everley. "You trust the comrades for that! We know a printer we can rely on!"

Samuel drew a deep breath of satisfaction. Here was a man who understood things, and took hold with conviction—a man who was really willing to do something. It was very disconcerting that he happened to be a Socialist!

Everley took up a pencil and wrote the new announcement:

PEOPLE OF LOCKMANVILLE!

"Having made the discovery that members of the vestry of St. Matthew's Church had been bribing the city council, I demanded an investigation, and I was turned out of the church.

"I called a meeting to tell the congregation about it, but I was refused a permit to speak. Chief of Police McCullagh declared to me that I should never make my speech in this town.

"Will you stand by me?

"I intend to speak on Wednesday night, at 8 P.M., at the vacant lot opposite the church.

"In the name of Free Speech and Civic Decency,

"SAMUEL PRESCOTT."

"How's that?" he asked.

"Fine!" exclaimed Samuel in delight.

"I'll take the risk of having it set up," added the lawyer. "And I'll get the notices to the members of the local off in this evening's mail. Come, we'll go to see one or two of them now and talk it over with them."

So they went down, and while Johann hurried back to his work, Samuel and Everley stopped in a cigar store a couple of doors down the street, kept by a little Russian Jew with a merry face and dancing black eyes. "Comrade Lippman," said Everley, "this is Mr. Prescott."

There came also "Comrade Minsky," from the rear workroom, a cigar maker, bare-armed and very yellow and emaciated. To them Everley told briefly the story of Samuel's adventures and what he proposed to do. The glow of excitement with which they received the tidings left no doubt as to their attitude. And a couple of blocks around the corner was a little shop where a grizzled old carpenter, "Comrade Beggs," clutched Samuel's hand in a grip like one of his vises, while he expressed his approval of his course. And then they called on Dr. Barton, a young physician, whom Everley declared to be one of the mainstays of the local of the town. "He got his education abroad," he explained, "so he has none of the narrowness of our physicians. His wife's quite a speaker, too."

Mrs. Barton was a sweet-faced and mild-looking lady, who reminded Samuel of the picture of his mother. All the while that Everley was telling his story the boy was staring at her, and trying to straighten out the tangle of perplexity that was caused in his mind by the idea of her being a Socialist speaker!

By and by the doctor came in, and the story had to be told yet again. They were so much interested and excited that they begged their visitors to remain to luncheon. They talked the whole problem out, and Samuel was struck by the certainty with which their minds took hold of it. There was no need of any long explanations with them—they seemed to know just what to expect; it was as if they possessed some magic key to the inner life of Lockmanville, enabling them to understand everyone in it, and exactly how he felt and exactly how he would act under any given circumstances.

All this was an amazing experience for Samuel. A few hours ago he had been a voice crying in the wilderness; forlorn and solitary; and now here was a band of allies, sprung up suddenly, from the very ground, as it seemed. Men who knew exactly what was wanted, and exactly how to get it; who required no persuading, who set to work without wasting a word—just as if they had been doing such things all their lives! He was so swept away with delight that for a while he was tempted to forget what sort of people they were.

But it came back to him suddenly, when they had returned to Everley's office. He sat gazing at the young lawyer with such a worried expression on his face that the other asked, "What's the matter?"

Tell me, Mr. Everley," said the boy, "how can the Bartons believe in free love?"

"Believe in free love?" echoed Everley. "What put that into your head?"

"But don't they believe in free love?" persisted Samuel.

"Why, of course not. Who said they did?"

"But they are Socialists!"

And the other put down his work and laughed heartily. "Where did you pick that up?" he asked.

"Why," stammered the boy, "I've read everywhere that Socialists believe in free love!"

"Wait till you get well going in this reform of yours!" laughed the young lawyer, "and then see what you read about yourself!"

"But," gasped Samuel, aghast, "don't Socialists believe in free love?"

"Some of them do, I suppose," was the reply. "I know one who believes in ghosts, and one who believes in the Pope, and one who believes in Adam and Eve. How can I help what they believe?"

There was a pause. "You see," explained Everley, "we are a political party; and we can't keep anybody from joining us who wants to. And because we are an advanced party, all sorts of wild people come to us. How can we help that?"

"But," exclaimed Samuel, "you are against religion!"

"We have nothing to do with religion," replied the other. "I told you we are a political party. Some of us have found it necessary to leave the capitalist churches—but you will hardly blame us for that!"

"N-no," admitted the boy; then he added, "But don't you want to destroy the Government?"

"On the contrary, we want to strengthen it. But first we have to get it away from the capitalists."

"Then, what DO you believe?" asked Samuel in perplexity.

Then the other explained that they were seeking to organize and educate the working class, for the purpose of bringing about an economic change. They wished to take the land and the mines, the railroads and the factories out of the hands of the capitalists. "We believe that such things should not belong to individuals," he said, "but to the people. Then there will be work for everyone, and everyone will get the full value of his labor, and no man will be able to live without working."

There was a pause, while Samuel was getting the meaning of this into his mind. "But," he exclaimed in amazement, "that is exactly what I believe!"

"Of course," replied the other, "it is exactly what everyone with sense believes."

"But—but—" gasped the boy, "then am I a Socialist?"

"Nine tenths of the people in the country are Socialists," replied Everley—"only they haven't found it out yet."

"But," cried Samuel, "you ought to teach them!"

"We're doing our best," laughed the other. "Come and help us."

Samuel was quite dumfounded. "But how do people come to have all these false ideas about you?" he asked.

"Those are the ideas that the masters want them to have."

Samuel was clutching at the arms of his chair. "Why—it's a conspiracy!" he cried.

"Precisely," said the other. "A conspiracy of the ruling class. They own the newspapers and the books, the colleges and churches and governments. And they tell lies about us and keep us down."

And so Samuel found himself face to face with the ultimate horror of Capitalism. It was bad enough to own the means whereby the people lived, and to starve and exploit their bodies. But to own their minds, and to lead them astray! To keep them from finding out the way of their deliverance! Surely that was the crime of crimes!

"I can't believe it!" he panted.

And the young lawyer answered, "Come and work with us a while and see for yourself."



CHAPTER XXIX

Samuel went home and faced a surprising experience. There was a dapper and well-dressed young man waiting to see him. "My name is Pollard," he said, "and I'm from the Lockmanville "Express." I want to get a story from you."

"A story from me?" echoed the boy in perplexity.

"An interview," explained the other. "I want to find out about that meeting you're going to hold."

And so Samuel experienced the great thrill, which comes sooner or later to every social reformer. He sat in Mrs. Stedman's little parlor, and told his tale yet again. Mr. Pollard was young and just out of college, and his pencil fairly flew over his notebook. "Gosh!" he exclaimed. "But this is hot stuff!"

To Samuel it was an extraordinary revelation. He was surprised that the idea had not occurred to him before. What was the use of holding meetings and making speeches, when one could have things printed in the papers? In the papers everyone would read it; and they would get it straight—there would be no chance of error. Moreover, they would read it at their leisure, and have time to think it all over!

And after Mr. Pollard had gone, he rushed off in great excitement to tell Everley about it. "You won't need to print those circulars," he said. "For I told him where the meeting was to be."

But Everley only smiled at this. "We'll get out our stuff just the same," he said. "You'd better wait until you've seen what the "Express" prints."

"What do you mean?" asked the boy. But Everley would not explain—he merely told Samuel to wait. He did not seem to be as much excited as he should have been.

Samuel went home again. And later on in the afternoon, while Mrs. Stedman had gone out to the grocer's, there came a knock on the door, and he opened it, and to his amazement found himself confronted by Billy Finnegan.

"Hello, young fellow!" said Finnegan.

"Hello!" said Samuel.

"What's this I hear about your making a speech?" asked Finnegan.

"I'm going to," was the reply. "But how did you know?"

"I got it from Callahan. Slattery told him."

"Slattery! Has he heard about it?"

"Gee, young fellow! What do you think he's boss for?"

And Finnegan gazed around the room, to make sure that they were alone.

"Sammy," he said, "I've come to give you a friendly tip; I hope you'll have sense enough to take it."

"What is it?" asked the other.

"Don't try to make any speech."

"Why not?"

"Because you ain't a-going to be let to make it, Sammy."

"But how can they stop me?"

"I dunno, Sammy. But they ain't a-going to let you."

There was a pause.

"It's a crazy thing you're tryin' to do," said the other. "And take my word for it—somethin' will happen to you if you go on."

"What will happen?"

"I dunno, my boy—maybe you'll fall into the river."

"Fall into the river!"

"Yes; or else run your head into a slungshot some night, in a dark alley. I can't tell you what—only you won't make the speech."

Samuel was dumfounded. "You can't mean such things!" he gasped.

"Sure I mean them," was the reply. "Why not?"

Samuel did not respond. "I don't know why you're tryin' to do this thing," went on the other, "nor who's backing you. But from what I can make out, you've got the goods, and you've got them on most everybody in the town. You've got Slattery, and you've got Pat McCullagh, and you've got the machine. You've got Wygant and Hickman—you've even got something on Bertie Lockman, haven't you?"

"I suppose I have," said Samuel. "But I'm not going to tell that."

"Well, they don't know what you're going to tell, and they won't take any chances. They won't let you tell anything."

"But can such things be done?" panted the boy.

"They're done all the time," said the other. "Why, see—it stands to reason. Wouldn't folks be finding out things like this, and wouldn't they be tellin' them?"

"To be sure," said Samuel. "That's what puzzled me."

"Well," said the bartender, "they ain't let to. Don't you see?"

"I see," whispered the boy.

"There's a crowd that runs this town, Sammy; and they mean to go on runnin' it. And don't you think they can't find ways of shuttin' up a kid like you!"

"But Mr. Finnegan, it would be murder!"

"Well, they wouldn't have to do it themselves, would they? When Henry Hickman wants a chicken for dinner, he don't have to wring its neck with his own hands."

Samuel could find nothing to reply to that. He sat dumb with horror.

"You see," continued Finnegan after a bit, "I know about this game, and I'm givin' you a friendly word. What the hell does a kid like you want to be reformin' things for anyway?"

"What else can I do?" asked Samuel.

To which the other answered, "Do? Get yourself a decent job, and find some girl you like and settle down. You'll never know what there is in life, Sammy, till you've got a baby."

But Samuel only shook his head. The plan did not appeal to him. "I'll try to keep out of trouble," he said, "but I MUST make that speech!"

So Finnegan went out, shaking his head and grumbling to himself. And Samuel hurried off to see his lawyer friend again. The result of the visit was that Everley exacted from him a solemn promise that he would not go out of the house after dark.

"I know what was done in this town during the strike," said the other, "and I don't want to take any chances. Now that they have finished the unions, there's nobody left but us."

So Samuel stayed at home, and told Sophie and her mother all about his various experiences, and about the people he had met. The child was almost beside herself with delight.

"Oh, I knew that help would come!" she kept saying, "I knew that help would come!"

Worn out as he was, the young reformer could hardly sleep that night, for all the excitement. And early in the morning he was up and out hunting for a copy of the "Express."

He stood on the street-corner and opened it. He glanced at the first page—there was nothing there. He glanced at the back page, and then at one page after another, seeking for the one that was given up to the story. But there was no such page. And then he went back and read over the headings of each column—and still he did not find it. And then he began a third time, reading carefully each tiny item. And so, after nearly an hour's search, when he found himself lost in a maze of advertisements, he brought himself to realize that there was not a line of the story in the paper!

When Everley arrived at his office that morning, Samuel was waiting for him on the steps. Seeing the paper in the other's hand, the young lawyer laughed. "You found out, have you?" he said.

"It's not here!" cried Samuel.

"I knew just what would happen," said the other. "But I thought I'd let you see for yourself."

"But what does it mean?" demanded the boy.

"It means," was the answer, "that the Lockman estate has a mortgage of one hundred thousand dollars on the Express."

And Samuel's jaw fell, and he stood staring at his friend.

"Now you see what it is to be a Socialist!" laughed Everley.

And Samuel saw.



CHAPTER XXX

After supper that evening came Everley with Friederich Bremer, to take Samuel to the meeting of the local, where he was to tell his story.

The "local" met in an obscure hall, over a grocery shop. There were present those whom Samuel had met the night before, and about a score of others. Most of them were working-men, but there were several who appeared to be well-to-do shopkeepers and clerks. Samuel noticed that they all called one another "comrade"; and several of them addressed him thus, which gave him a queer feeling. Also he noted that there were women present, and that one of them presided at the meeting.

Everley made a speech, reading Samuel's manifesto, and telling how it had been given out. Then he called upon Samuel. The boy stood upon his feet—and suddenly a deadly terror seized hold upon him. Suppose he should not be able to make a speech after all! Suppose he should be nervous! What would they think of him? But he clenched his hands—what did it matter what they thought of him? The poor were suffering, and the truth was crying out for vindication! He would tell these men what had happened to him.

So he began. He told how he had been robbed, and how he had sought in vain for work, and how he had been arrested. And because he saw that these were people who understood, he found himself a case, and thinking no longer about himself. He talked for nearly half an hour, and there was quite a sensation when he finished.

Then Everley rose to his feet again. "Comrades," he said, "for the past year I have been urging that the local must make a fight for free speech in this town. And it seems to me that the occasion has now come. If we do not take up this fight, we might just as well give up."

"That's right," cried Beggs, the old carpenter.

"I took the liberty of ordering circulars," continued Everley. "There was no time to be lost, and I felt sure that the comrades would back me. I now move that the local take charge of the meeting to-morrow evening, and that the two thousand circulars I have here be given out secretly to-night."

"I second that motion," said Mrs. Barton.

"It must be understood," added Everley, "that we can't expect help from the papers. And our people ought to hear this story, as well as the members of the church."

And then he read the circulars, and the motion was put, and carried unanimously.

"Now," said Everley, "I suggest that the local make this the occasion of a contest for the right to hold street meetings in Lockmanville. As you know, the police have refused permits ever since the strike. And I move that beginning with Thursday evening, we hold a meeting on the corner of Market and Main streets, and tell this story to the public. And that we continue to hold a meeting every night thereafter until we have made good our right."

Samuel could see from the faces of the men what a serious proposition this was to them. Everley launched into an impassioned speech. The workingmen of the town had lost their last hope in the unions; they were suffering from the hard times; and now, if ever, was the time to open their eyes to the remedy. And the Socialists were powerless, because they had permitted the police to frighten them. Now they must make a stand.

"You realize that it will mean going to jail?" asked Dr. Barton.

"I realize it," said Everley. "We shall probably have to go several times. But if we make up our minds from the beginning, we can win; we shall have the sympathy of the people—and also we can break the conspiracy of silence of the newspapers."

"That is the thing we must think of," said the woman in the chair.

"I am ready to do what I can," added the lawyer. "I will give my services free to defend the speakers, or I will be the first man to be arrested—whichever the comrades prefer."

"We will lose our jobs," said some one in the rear of the room.

"Yes," said Everley, "that is something you will have to consider. You know well enough how much I have lost already."

Samuel listened in breathless excitement to this discussion. Here were poor people, people with no more resources than he, and at the mercy of the same forces which had been crushing him. Here was one man who had lost an eye in the glass works, and another, a railroad brakeman, who was just out of the hospital after losing a leg. Here were men pale and haggard from hunger, men with wives and children dependent upon them; yet they were giving their time and their money—risking their very existence—in the cause of human freedom! Had he ever met a group of men like this before? Had he ever dreamed that such men were living?

He had thought that he was alone, that he had all the burdens of humanity upon his own shoulders! And now here were people who were ready to hold up his hands; and from the discussion he gathered that they were part of a vast organization, that there existed such "locals" in every city and town in the country. They made their own nominations and voted for their own candidates at every election; they published many newspapers and magazines and books. And they were part of an army of men who were banded together in every civilized nation. Wherever Capitalism had come, there men were uniting against it; and every day their power grew—there was nothing that could stop them.

These men had seen the vision of the new time that was coming, and there burned in them a fire of conviction. Suddenly Samuel realized the import of that word "comrade" which they gave one another; they were men bound together by the memory of persecutions, and by the presence of ruthless enemies. They knew what they were facing at this moment; not only Chief McCullagh with his policemen and their clubs; not only the subsidized "Express" with its falsehoods and ridicule: but all the political and business power of the Hickmans and Wygants. They were facing arrest and imprisonment, humiliation and disgrace— perhaps ruin and starvation. Only in this way could they reach the ears of the people.

"Comrades," the young lawyer was saying, "every step that has been taken in the progress of humanity has been taken because men have been willing to give their lives. Everywhere that our movement has grown, it has been in the face of persecution. And sooner or later we must make up our minds to it—we may wait for years, but nothing can be accomplished until we have faced this issue. And so I ask you to join with me in taking this pledge—that we will speak on the streets of Lockmanville next Saturday night, and that we will continue to speak there as often as need be until we have vindicated our rights as American citizens."

There was a solemn hush when he finished; one by one the men and women arose and offered themselves.

"I have been out of work for four months," said one, "and I have been promised a job next week. If I am arrested, I know that I will not get it. But still I will speak."

"And I am in Wygant's cotton mill," said another. "And I'm not young, and when I'm turned out, it will not be easy for me. But I will help."

"And I, too," put in Lippman, the cigar store keeper; "my wife can tend the shop!" There was a general laugh at this.

And then Friedrich Bremer sprang up. "My father has been warned!" he cried. "But I will speak also!"

"And I!" exclaimed Samuel. "I think I am going to be a Socialist. Will you let me help?"

"No one's help will be refused in a crisis like this," said Everley. "We must stand by our guns, for if they can crush us this time, it may be years before we can be heard."

And then, somewhere in the hall, a voice began to sing. Others took it up, until the walls of the building shook with a mighty chant. "What is it?" whispered Samuel to Friedrich.

"It is called 'The Red Flag,'" replied Friedrich.

And Samuel sat spellbound, listening while they sang:

Hark to the thunder, hark to the tramp—a myriad army comes!

An army sprung from a hundred lands, speaking a hundred tongues!

And overhead a portent new, a blood-red banner see!

The nations gather in affright to ask what the sign may be.

Banner of crimson, banner bright, banner flaunting the sky!

What is the word that ye bring to men, the hope that ye hold on high?

We come from the fields, we come from the forge, we come from the land and sea—

We come in the right of our new-born might to set the people free!

Masters, we left you a world to make, the planning was yours to do—

We were the toilers, humble and sad, we gave our faith to you.

And now with a dread in our hearts we stand and gaze at the work of the years—

We have builded a temple with pillars white, ye have stained it with blood and tears!

For our little ones with their teeming hopes ye have roofed the sweatshop den,

And our daughters fair ye have prisoned in the reeking brothel's pen!

And so for the sign of our murdered hopes our blood-red banner see—

We come in the right of our new-born might to set the people free!

Tremble, oh masters—tremble all who live by others' toil—

We come your dungeon walls to raze, your citadel to spoil!

Yours is the power of club and jail, yours is the axe and fire—

But ours is the hope of human hearts and the strength of the soul's desire!

Ours is the blazing banner, sweeping the sky along!

Ours the host, the marching host—hark to our battle song!

Chanting of brotherhood, chanting of freedom, dreaming the world to be—

We come in the right of our new-born might to set the people free!



CHAPTER XXXI

While the other members of the local scattered to distribute the circulars, Everley and Friedrich escorted Samuel home, and saw him safely in, and the door locked. They had supplied him with some Socialist papers and pamphlets, and he spent most of the next day devouring these. They spread a picture of the whole wonderful movement before him; they explained to him all the mechanism of the cruel system, in the cogs of which he had been caught.

It was all so very obvious that Samuel found himself in a state of exasperation with the people who did not yet understand it, and spent his time wrestling in imagination with all those he had ever known: with his brothers, and with Finnegan, and with Charlie Swift, with Master Albert and Mr. Wygant, with Professor Stewart and Dr. Vince. Most of all he labored with Miss Gladys; and he pictured how it would be after the Revolution, when he would be famous and she would be poor, and he might magnanimously forgive her!

And when Sophie came home, he explained it all to her. It did not take much to make a revolutionist out of Sophie. She had become quite thoroughly what the Socialists called "class-conscious."

The members of the local had been anxious about Samuel all day. Everley had come in twice in the afternoon, to make sure that he was safe; and he came over again after supper, and said that Beggs and Lippman and the Bartons and himself were coming to act as a body guard to take Samuel to the meeting. The circulars had created a tremendous sensation—the whole town was talking about it, and the police were furious at the way they had been outwitted.

So the hour of the meeting drew near. It was as if a great shadow were gathering over them. They were nervous and restless—Samuel pacing the room, wandering about here and there.

His speech was seething within him. He saw before him the eager multitude, and he was laying bare to them the picture of their wrongs. So much depended upon this speech! If he failed now, he failed in everything—all that he had done before has gone for nothing! Ah! if only one had a voice that could reach the whole world—that could shout these things into the ears of the oppressed!

His friends had said they would come at a quarter to eight. But they came at half past seven, and sat round and waited. It was thought best that they should not arrive until the precise minute of the meeting; and meantime they outlined to Samuel the plan of campaign they had formed.

Dr. Barton was to make the opening speech, introducing Samuel; and by way of outwitting the police, he was to be particularly careful to get into this "introduction" all the essential facts which it was desired to lay before the people. He was to tell about the twenty thousand dollars which Hickman paid to Slattery, and about the acknowledgment which Wygant had made to Samuel, and about how the boy had been turned out of St. Matthew's Church. If the police attempted to interfere with this, the doctor was to persist until he had been actually placed under arrest; and then others were to take up the attempt in different places, until six had been arrested. In this case Samuel was to make no attempt to speak at all; they would "save" him for an out-door meeting—and also Everley, who was to defend them in court. More circulars would be given out the next afternoon, and another attempt to speak would be made that evening.

All this was duly impressed upon the boy, and then the little company set forth. Dr. Barton walked on one side of him, and Everley on the other; Mrs. Barton, Mrs. Stedman and Sophie came next, and Beggs and Lippman brought up the rear. So they marched along; they kept their eyes open, and every time they had to pass a man they gave him a wide berth.

So they came to the place of the meeting. At the corner were the Bremers and half a dozen others, who formed a ring about them. There was a huge crowd, they said—the lot was thronged, and the people extended to streets on every side. There was a score of policemen scattered about, and no doubt there were many detectives.

Promptly on the minute of eight the little group approached. There was a murmur of excitement among the waiting crowd, as they started to force their way through. Samuel's heart was thumping like mad, and his knees were trembling so that he could hardly walk. The people gave way, and they found themselves in the center, where several of the Socialists stood guard over the half dozen boxes from which the speaking was to be done.

Without a moment's delay, Dr. Barton mounted up.

"Fellow citizens," he called in a clear, ringing voice; and instantly a hush fell upon the crowd, and a thousand faces were turned toward him.

"We are here," he began, "for a very important purpose—"

Instantly a policeman pushed his way toward him.

"Have you a permit for this meeting?" he demanded.

"We have been refused a permit!" proclaimed Dr. Barton to the crowd. "We are here as law-abiding citizens, demanding our right to free speech!"

"You cannot speak," declared the policeman.

"There has been bribery of the city council of Lockmanville," shouted the doctor.

"You cannot speak!" cried the policeman sharply.

"Henry Hickman paid twenty thousand dollars to the city council to prevent the passage of the water bill!" cried the speaker.

"Come down from there!" commanded the officer, and made a grab at him.

"I will not stop until I am arrested!" declared the doctor. "I am here to protest against bribery!"

"Come down and shut up!" shouted the other.

"For shame! For shame!" said voices in the crowd. "Let him speak!"

"That charge was made before the vestry of the St. Matthew's Church! And the vestry refused to investigate it, and turned out a member of the church! And we are here—"

And so, still shouting, the doctor was dragged off the box and collared by the policeman.

"An outrage!" cried people in the audience. "Let him go on!" And yet others shouted, "Arrest him!" The throng was in a turmoil; and in the midst of it, Lippman, who was the second victim appointed for the sacrifice, sprang upon the stump of an old tree, a little at one side, and shrieked at the top of his lungs:

"Henry Hickman paid twenty thousand dollars to Slattery to beat the water bill; and now he and the Lockman estate are making ten thousand dollars a month out of it! And Wygant confessed to our speaker that he ran the city government to get franchise favors—"

And then Lippman was seized by an officer and dragged off his perch, and choked into silence—surrounded meanwhile by a crowd of indignantly protesting citizens. It was quite clear by this time that the crowd had come to hear Samuel's speech, and was angry at being balked. There was a general shout of protest that made the policemen glad of their numbers.

Of these exciting events Samuel and Everley had been witnesses from the vantage point of a soap box. Now suddenly the boy caught his friend's arm and pointed, crying, "Who's that man?"

Near the outskirts of the thrown was a big burly individual, who had been roaring in a furious voice, "For shame! Go on!" and waving his fists in the air.

"I don't know," said Everley. "I never saw him before."

"An outrage!" yelled the man. "Kill the police! Smash them! Drive them away!"

And Everley caught the boy's arm, crying excitedly, "He's been sent here, I'll wager! They want to provoke trouble!"

And even as he spoke, the two saw the man stoop, and pick up a brick- bat, and fling it into the center of the crowd, where the police were massing.

"Arrest that man!" shouted Everley indignantly, and leaped forward and plunged through the throng to reach him.

There was a roar from the crowd, and Samuel saw that several men had grappled with the bully; he saw, also, that the police in the center of the throng had drawn their clubs, and were beginning to strike at the people. A burly sergeant was commanding them, and forcing back the crowd by jabbing men in the stomachs.

Meantime the next speaker, a woman, had mounted upon a box, and was crying in a shrill voice: "We are Socialists! We are the only political party which dares to speak for the working class of Lockmanville! We protest against this outrage! We demand free speech! There has been bribery in our city council!"

Then suddenly the boy heard a disturbance behind him, and turned, just in the nick of time. A fellow had thrust his way through the crowd toward him, a rowdy with a brutal, half-drunken face. And Samuel saw him raise his hand, with some dark object in it, and aim a smashing blow at his head.

The boy ducked and raised his arm. He felt a sharp, agonizing pain, and his arm dropped helpless at his side. Something struck him across the forehead, cutting a gash, out of which hot blood spurted, blinding him. He heard Beggs, who was beside him, give a shout—"Down!" And realizing that his life was aimed at, he dropped like a flash, and put his head under him, covering it with one arm as well as he could.

There was a struggle going on over him. Men were pushing and shouting- -and some one kicked him savagely upon the leg. He crawled on a little way, still keeping his head down, underneath the feet of the contendents. He heard Beggs shouting for help, and heard the Bremers answering; he heard the roar of the throng all about, the sharp commands of the police sergeant, and the crack of clubs, falling upon the heads of men and women. And then he swooned, and lay there, his face in a pool of his own blood.

Meanwhile, one by one, three more speakers rose and made their attempts, and were arrested, while the indignant people voiced their helpless protests. Then suddenly, somewhere in the crowd, a woman began to sing. Others took up the song—it swelled louder, until it rang above all the uproar. It was the hymn that Samuel had heard at the meeting of the local—The Red Flag!

It took hold of the crowd—men followed the melody, even though they did not know the words. They continued to sing while the police were leading away their prisoners; they followed, all the way to the station house, with shouts of protest, and of encouragement for the victims.

And so the throng moved on, and the uproar died away. There was left upon the scene a little group of frightened people, gathered about two who lay upon the ground. One of them was Samuel, unconscious and bleeding; and the other was Sophie, clinging to him and sobbing upon his bosom, frantic with grief and fear. And meanwhile, in the distance one could still hear the melody ringing:

THE END