"Your class never does," she replied, not sharply, not as a retort, but merely as one states a fact to give enlightenment.
"My father," she said, "was killed leading the strikers at Homestead.
… The unions educated me."
"What is this man—this speaker—trying to do? Stir up a riot?"
She smiled. "No. He is an organizer sent by the National Federation.
… They're going to try to unionize our plant."
"Unionize?"
"Bonbright Foote, Incorporated," she said, "is a non-union shop."
"I didn't know," said he, after a brief pause. "I'm afraid I don't understand these things…. I suppose one should know about them if he is to own a plant like ours." Again he paused while he fumbled for an idea that was taking shape. "I suppose one should understand about his employees just as much as he does about his machinery."
She looked at him with a touch of awakened interest. "Do you class men with machinery?" she asked, well knowing that was not his meaning. He did not reply. Presently he said:
"Rangar told you you were to be my secretary?"
"Yes, sir," she said, using that respectful form for the first time. The relation of employer and employee had been re-established by his words. "Thank you for the promotion."