“I do not understand you, Mr. Fairbanks.”
“The men are getting down on you,” said the young fellow bluntly. “As you see they insult and threaten Miss Cherry and your wife. There will be some outbreak——”
“Do you think that if I knew that to be true it would influence me in the least?” asked Mr. Hopkins sternly.
“It would better. Your wife and daughter are likely to suffer. Of course, the discharged men will probably not have anything to do with it; but they cannot control their sympathizers. There is talk of a strike. If a strike comes——”
“Suppose you let such matters be handled by your superiors, Mr. Fairbanks,” said the supervisor coldly. “It is not in the province of a train dispatcher.”
“Quite true,” Ralph said, rising abruptly.
Cherry had not come back into the room. He felt that he really was not welcome here. And he feared he might be tempted to say something even more unwise to the stiff-necked supervisor.
“You will excuse me, Mr. Hopkins. I really think your daughter and wife are in some danger if they go downtown. Pardon me for saying so.”
“Thank you,” said Barton Hopkins without an ounce of expression in either his voice or his countenance. “Good-day, Mr. Fairbanks.”
“Humph!” thought Ralph, as he fumbled for the knob of the front door. “I reckon I know where I get off with Mr. Hopkins. Oh, yes!”