"Object? What of it!" she argued eagerly. "They'll have to submit if you say so; certainly they're not goin' to throw up their jobs for a dollar. Work's too scarce for that. They can't kick and they won't kick if you give 'em to understand that they've got to dig up this dollar or quit."
"But," Symes evaded, "the most of this work is let to contractors and it's for them to determine; I don't feel like dictating to them."
"Why not?" Her voice quavered with impatience. "They want new contracts. They'd make the arrangement if they thought it would please you?"
"But," Symes answered coolly, "I don't know that it would please me."
He saw the quick, antagonistic glitter which leaped into her eyes, but he went on calmly—
"Where the work is dangerous and the force is large your scheme is customary and practicable, I know, but upon a project of this size where the conditions are healthy, there is nothing to justify me in demanding a compulsory contribution of $500 a month for your benefit."
She controlled her temper with visible effort.
"But there will be dangerous work," she urged. "I've been over the ground and I know. There'll be a tunnel, lots of rock-work, blasting, and, in consequence, accidents."
"That would be my chief objection to giving you the contract."
"What do you mean?"