"A strike," said Hawthorne. "We're loaded with contract orders, Mr.
Foote. A strike at this time--"

"Hangar," said Mr. Foote, sharply, "at the first sign of such a thing
take immediate steps to counteract it. ... Better still, proceed now
as if a strike were certain. These mills MUST continue
uninterruptedly. ... If these malcontents force a strike, Mr.
Hawthorne, we shall be able to deal with it. ... Good morning,
gentlemen."

The men filed out silently. It seemed as if they were apprehensive,
almost as if they ventured to disagree with the action of their
employers. But none voiced his disapproval.

Bonbright stood without motion beside his father's desk, his eyes on
the floor, his lips pressed together.

"There," said his father, with satisfaction, "I think that will set
you right."

"Right?... The men will think I was among them last night as a
spy!... They'll despise me. ... They'll think I wasn't honest with
them."

Bonbright Foote VI shrugged his shoulders. "Loyalty to your family,"
he said, "and to your order is rather more important than retaining
the good will of a mob of malcontents."

Bonbright turned, his shoulders dropping so that a more sympathetic