“But––you have defied him––as he says, declared war––”
“No, dearest, not that. It is the carnal mind, using him as a channel, that has declared war against good. But evil is not power; nor has it been given power by God. My one thought is this: Am I doing that which will result in the greatest good to the greatest number? Am I loving my neighbor as myself? Serving as I would be served? Not as evil would want to be served, but as good. If my mental attitude is right, then God’s law becomes operative in all that I do, and I am protected. Don’t you see?”
“I know, dearie, but––there’s the telephone! Oh, I do hope they don’t want you!”
Carmen answered the call, and returned with the announcement that Haynerd was in distress. “Sidney Ames is––not there,” she said. “He was to report a meeting. Mr. Haynerd wanted Lewis. Now don’t worry, dearest; I––I won’t go alone.”
The girl had taken her coat and hat. A moment later she gave the Beaubien a kiss, and hurried out into the night. In half an hour she stood at Haynerd’s desk.
“What are we going to do?” moaned that perturbed individual. “Here I am, tied down, depending on Sid, and he’s drunk!”
“Well, I’m here. What’s the assignment?”
Haynerd looked up at her, and hesitated. “Mass meeting, over on the East Side. Here’s the address,” taking up a slip of paper. “Open meeting, I’m told; but I suspect it’s an I. W. W. affair. Hello!” he said, replying to a telephone call. “What’s that? The Ames mills at Avon closed down this afternoon? What’s reason? Oh, all right. Call me in an hour.”
He hung up the receiver and turned to Carmen. “That’s what this meeting is about,” he said significantly. “Four thousand hands suddenly thrown out at the Avon mills. Dead of winter, too!”