"Never be satisfied," said he, "till they strip us of everything we've
worked our lives away earning. They'll ride in our motor-cars and we'll
sit in their workhouse. That'll be nice, won't it? How'll plain little
girls like that, eh?"

She was the apple of papa's eye; and she rather enjoyed hearing him talk
of his manifold business activities, which was a thing he was not too
often encouraged to do. To-day the master of the Works was annoyed into
speech by recent nagging: not merely from the Commissioner of Labor, but
from the Building Inspector, who had informally stopped him on the
street that morning....

"Don't you think, papa," Carlisle said sweetly, "that it will all end in
something like the French Revolution?"

Mr. Heth thought it extremely likely.

"Well," said he, "I shan't be bothered by their college folderol.
O'Neill's easy enough managed. All I need to do is invite him and Missus
O. to dinner."

"Who's O'Neill?" demanded Mrs. Heth, gliding in.

For the second time during the meal, she had been absent from the table,
on a telephone call. She always answered these summonses personally,
regardless of when they came, appearing to fear that otherwise she might
miss something.

"And who," she added, "is going to invite him to dinner?"