and labor. Now he saw it, face uncovered starkly.

A moment before he had realized his power over these men; now he
perceived that these men, some of them, realized it even better than
he. ... Realized it and resented it; resented it and fought with all
the strength of their souls to undermine it and make it topple in
ruin.

His mind was a caldron into which cross currents of thought poured
and tossed. He had no experience to draw on. Here was a thing he was
being plunged into all unprepared. It had taken him unprepared, and
shaken him as he had never been shaken before. He turned away.

Half a dozen feet away he saw the Girl with the Grin--not grinning
now, but tense, pale, listening with her soul in her eyes, and with
the light of enthusiasm glowing beside it.

He walked to her side, touched her shoulder. ... It was
unpremeditated, something besides his own will had urged him to speak
to her.

"I don't understand it," he said, unsteadily.

"Your class never does," she replied, not sharply, not as a retort,
but merely as one states a fact to give enlightenment.

"My father," she said, "was killed leading the strikers at Homestead.
... The unions educated me."

"What is this man--this speaker--trying to do? Stir up a riot?"