"Exactly. But--mark my words, he won't wait for the law, now that we've got this drift going. Don't you be deceived by what he may say now in--in pique. Give him a little chance to adjust himself to the new idea, that's all. Rome wasn't built in a day, Sam--as you've said."
"Look here, old horse, what's struck you?"
"How do you mean, what's struck me?"
The two young men gazed at each other.
"You're pipin' a mighty different tune than you were when you wrote that letter. I've noticed it for some time."
The look of the fine-skinned young man at the desk changed perceptively. O'Neill was made to feel that his remark was in questionable taste, to say the least of it.
"I wish you wouldn't speak as if I were a band of travelling bagmen. I'm not piping or tuning in any way. I say now precisely what I've said all along. Rouse these people to their responsibilities, and you can tear up your factory laws! Different cases require different methods of--"
"Why, last fall--"
"Now, Sam--here! Arguing's no good--I'll tell you what. Suppose you just leave Heth's to me. Go ahead and hammer the Pickle people if you think that'll do the slightest good. But you leave Heth's to me for a while."
"Well! That's an order," said the Commissioner, somewhat derisively, yet looking interested, too. "And what'll you do with them?"