Mr. Greenough took the paper with an air that showed him to be in anything but a conciliatory mood. Without opening it, he burst forth angrily:
“What, in the name of common sense, is this farce anyhow? What do you mean by leaving your work and presuming to come here, dictating terms to me?”
“The paper will explain everything, sir,” replied the foremost of the committee. “We have our rights—or should have them. The time has come when we propose to get them. Will you read the petition, sir?”
“No,” thundered the choleric old man. “Not in your presence. Villard, treat with them.” Mr. Greenough was too angry to say more.
Mr. Villard, the younger superintendent, stepped forward.
“I think,” he said, “that you had better leave us for a time. We shall need to consider your proposals, whatever they may be. Go now, and come again later—say at four o’clock.” Agreeing to this proposition, the five men turned and left the office. Mr. Villard sat down again, waiting for the agent to speak.
“The confounded whelps!” ejaculated Mr. Greenough, as soon as he could find breath. “Open that paper, Villard—the impudent puppies!”
Without answering, John Villard tore open the envelope, and read the document aloud:
Whereas, we, the undersigned, believing that our interests demand an organization which shall promote and protect affairs relating to us as laboring men; and
Whereas, we have already organized and maintained such a society; it is now unanimously agreed that we insist upon the recognition of such a body by our employers, and upon their making certain concessions for the benefit of that body.