That's the worst of all thoughts of self. They invariably are undisguisable.
"The Cause, Onthemaker," said Hendrik, sternly, "is the cause of the Society of American Sandwich Artists. We are not associated to make money for ourselves, but for our employers. This is revolutionary. Moreover, we are not working-men, but artists. Therefore our men not only love their work, but are law-abiding. This will make the employers helpless to retaliate. We shall never do anything without invoking the aid of the law, for I believe that the law will help the poor not less than the rich if properly—"
"Advertised," prompted Max. "I get you. In the forum of the people's liberties—the daily papers—is the place to try—"
Hendrik held up a hand. He had chosen the right lawyer. The interpretation of the law depends exclusively upon the tone of voice. All reporters are trained to be judges of elocution. They have to be, in republics.
"To-morrow—" Here Hendrik paused.
Max's face paled slightly as he waited. What was coming?
Hendrik finished: "I shall telephone to you!"
Max drew in his breath sharply.
Hendrik then nodded. It meant, "You have my permission to retire!"
"Thank you, Mr. Rutgers," said Max, respectfully, and withdrew from the presence on tiptoe.