"I've been trying to get hold of your friend Jim," he remarked, "but he isn't a very promising specimen, unless it be of 'that boy, Ignorance'! He's never had any education to speak of, been at work ever since he was old enough to make a few cents a day, has got into a bad set of companions, and, besides, seems to have a rather sulky disposition. However, I'm going to try to get him into the 'Knights of Labor'; that will wake him up a little bit, besides keeping him in order, for he's rather of the turbulent kind."
Nora laughed a little. "One is generally led to suppose that 'The Knights of Labor' are generally disposed to encourage turbulence, rather than to repress it!" she said.
"A complete mistake!" exclaimed Roland, eagerly. "It is one of the principles of the Order to do everything 'decently and in order'! Its aims are to remedy wrong by peaceful means, if possible. Every method of doing so is tried, before such an extreme measure as a strike—say—is resorted to. Why, there is no counting the number of strikes that have been prevented through its agency."
"It's too bad people don't know that," Nora replied.
"They don't want to know it," he said. "Mr. Pomeroy for instance should know, that but for the amicable negotiations of the 'Knights,' he might have had a strike before now. And I am not at all sure that he may not have it yet! Such surly, dissatisfied young fellows as Jim are just the stuff to make mischief. However, if he joins us, we may do something with him. One of our fundamental positions is the dignity of all honest labor. This teaches the men to respect themselves, and that is one step toward respecting others. And then, too, the Assembly meetings afford a place where all grievances can be ventilated—a sort of safety-valve, so to speak, where a good deal of gas can be got off, at any rate."
"I see," said Nora. "How often do they meet?"
"Once a week. By the way, I'm sorry that we haven't succeeded in getting redress for the girls. Mr. Pomeroy wouldn't interfere with his manager;—did not dare, perhaps, for fear he should leave: and Willett is hopeless!"
"Oh, I am sorry!" exclaimed Nora.
"I'm not going to give it up, though," he added, cheerfully. "Of course we'll keep driving away at the matter in The Brotherhood. And how is my little friend, 'Miss Travers,' and her mother?"
"Oh, Cecilia promises to live up to her name! I've been trying to teach her to read, at which she was very awkward, but she takes much more readily to music," Miss Blanchard replied. "She's trying very hard to play a little on the piano, with her small fingers, and you should see her using a little accordion I gave her. It is quite a picture!"