As Jane drove into the grounds of the house on the hilltop she saw her father and David Hull in an obviously intimate and agitated conversation on the front veranda.She made all haste to join them; nor was she deterred by the reception she got--the reception given to the unwelcome interrupter.Said she:
``You are talking about those indictments, aren't you? Everyone else is.There's a group on every corner down town, and people are calling their views to each other from windows across the streets.''
Davy glanced triumphantly at her father.``I told you so,'' said he.
Old Hastings was rubbing his hand over his large, bony, wizened face in the manner that indicates extreme perplexity.
Davy turned to Jane.``I've been trying to show your father what a stupid, dangerous thing Dick Kelly has done.I want him to help me undo it.It MUST be undone or Victor Dorn will sweep the town on election day.''
Jane's heart was beating wildly.She continued to say carelessly, ``You think so?''
``Davy's got a bad attack of big red eye to-day,'' said her father.``It's a habit young men have.''
``I'm right, Mr.Hastings,'' cried Hull.``And, furthermore, you know I'm right, Jane; you saw that riot the other night.Joe Wetherbe told me so.You said that it was an absolutely unprovoked assault of the gangs of Kelly and House.Everyone in town knows it was.The middle and the upper class people are pretending to believe what the papers printed-- what they'd like to believe.But they KNOW better.The working people are apparently silent.They usually are apparently silent.But they know the truth --they are talking it among themselves.And these indictments will make Victor Dorn a hero.''
``What of it? What of it?'' said Hastings impatiently.``The working people don't count.''
``Not as long as we can keep them divided,'' retorted Davy.
``But if they unite----''
And he went on to explain what he had in mind.He gave them an analysis of Remsen City.About fifty thousand inhabitants, of whom about ten thousand were voters.These voters were divided into three classes--upper class, with not more than three or four hundred votes, and therefore politically of no importance AT THEPOLLS, though overwhelmingly the most influential in any other way; the middle class, the big and little merchants, the lawyers and doctors, the agents and firemen and so on, mustering in all about two thousand votes; finally, the working class with no less than eight thousand votes out of a total of ten thousand.
``By bribery and cajolery and browbeating and appeal to religious prejudice and to fear of losing jobs--by all sorts of chicane,''
said Davy, ``about seven of these eight thousand votes are kept divided between the Republican or Kelly party and the Democratic or House party.The other ten or twelve hundred belong to Victor Dorn's League.Now, the seven thousand workingmen voters who follow Kelly and House like Victor Dorn, like his ideas, are with him at heart.But they are afraid of him.They don't trust each other.Workingmen despise the workingman as an ignorant fool.''
``So he is,'' said Hastings.
``So he is,'' agreed Davy.``But Victor Dorn has about got the workingmen in this town persuaded that they'd fare better with Dorn and the League as their leaders than with Kelly and House as their leaders.And if Kelly goes on to persecute Victor Dorn, the workingmen will be frightened for their rights to free speech and free assembly.And they'll unite.I appeal to you, Jane--isn't that common sense?''
``I don't know anything about politics,'' said Jane, looking bored.``You must go in and lie down before dinner, father.You look tired.''
Hastings got ready to rise.
``Just a minute, Mr.Hastings,'' pleaded Hull.``This must be settled now--at once.I must be in a position not only to denounce this thing, but also to stop it.Not to-morrow, but to-day...so that the morning papers will have the news.''
Jane's thoughts were flying--but in circles.Everybody habitually judges everybody else as both more and less acute than he really is.Jane had great respect for Davy as a man of college education.But because he had no sense of humor and because he abounded in lengthy platitudes she had thought poorly indeed of his abilities.She had been realizing her mistake in these last few minutes.The man who had made that analysis of politics--an analysis which suddenly enlighted her as to what political power meant and how it was wielded everywhere on earth as well as in Remsen City--the man was no mere dreamer and theorist.He had seen the point no less clearly than had Victor Dorn.But what concerned her, what set her to fluttering, was that he was about to checkmate Victor Dorn.What should she say and do to help Victor?
She must get her father away.She took him gently by the arm, kissed the top of his head.``Come on, father,'' she cried.
``I'll let Davy work his excitement off on me.You must take care of your health.''
But Hastings resisted.``Wait a minute, Jenny,'' said he.``Imust think.''
``You can think lying down,'' insisted his daughter Davy was about to interpose again, but she frowned him into silence.
``There's something in what Davy says,'' persisted her father.
``If that there Victor Dorn should carry the election, there'd be no living in the same town with him.It'd put him away up out of reach.''
Jane abruptly released her father's arm.She had not thought of that--of how much more difficult Victor would be if he won now.
She wanted him to win ultimately--yes, she was sure she did.
But--now? Wouldn't that put him beyond her reach--beyond need of her?
She said: ``Please come, father!'' But it was perfunctory loyalty to Victor.Her father settled back; Davy Hull began afresh, pressing home his point, making his contention so clear that even Martin Hastings' prejudice could not blind him to the truth.And Jane sat on the arm of a big veranda chair and listened and made no further effort to interfere.
``I don't agree with you, Hull,'' said the old man at last.
