“I want to tell you I'm on the executive committee of the State Teamsters Union, Mr. Farr. I've been talking the matter up and I can promise you that the union as a body will vote to lend horses and men to carry your spring-water free gratis. And I hope that gent who's starting up-town where the dudes are will tell 'em that there are honest men enough left to protect the poor folks from that poison water him and his rich friends are pumping out of the river to us.”
The Honorable Archer Converse halted his departure very suddenly.
“You are not referring to me, are you, my man?”
“I am if you're tied up with that Consolidated Water Company bunch,” stated the unterrified member of the proletariat.
Mr. Converse retraced his steps. He shook his cane at the driver.
“I want to inform you very distinctly, sir, that I am not interested in the Consolidated.”
“Dawson, apologize to this gentleman,” Farr admonished the driver.
“I'm sorry I said anything,” muttered the man. “But all dudes look alike to me,” he told himself under his breath.
Mr. Converse appeared to be considerably disturbed by the humble citizen's sneer in regard to the Consolidated matter. He addressed himself to Farr.
“I have been touched on a point where I am very sensitive,” he informed the young man. “I do not condone the policies of the Consolidated in regard to their control of franchises. Their system of operation has introduced a bad element into our finance and politics. I would be sorry to be misunderstood by the people of this state.”