"What's the matter?" asked his daughter, looking up anxiously.
He did not answer at once, and her brother, who was examining the contents of his gold-mounted cigar-case, replied nonchalantly:
"Oh, only what might have been expected, after last night! The men have been making another row about higher pay, and when father told them that he proposed to run his works himself, they had the impudence to tell him that he could run them by himself. So I suppose that means that they won't put in an appearance to-morrow; and just when there's a lot of work on hand to finish, too!"
"Oh," exclaimed Mrs. Pomeroy, "how disgraceful! And after what you did for them a little while ago!"
"That wasn't for the men, mamma!" said Miss Pomeroy.
"Oh, I knew no good would come of doing anything to please them!" said the young man. "I consider you're responsible for it, Clara, for coaxing father into it."
"Well," said Miss Pomeroy, "I wonder, Harold, after all you heard last night, you can talk like that! Why should we have so much more than we need, and all these people so much less?"
Young Pomeroy whistled. "Well, I declare!" he exclaimed. "Do you hear that, father! Here's Clara out on the 'Rights of Labor'! The reason we have so much more, is because father had so much more to begin with,—the money to buy the machinery, and the head to use it!"
"But that's no reason why the men who help him to use it mightn't be better paid! You like a good salary for what you do to help, and I don't suppose that's worth a great deal!" she retorted, coolly.
"Much you know about it! But if all these people get only a little more every week, it would make a big difference to father, don't you see? And, you know, even Mr. Jeffrey said that single firms couldn't afford to raise the wages, or they'd be crowded out. And you like as well as anybody to have your trips to Europe and Newport, and all the rest of it."