"But you didn't catch me, this time!" Roger grinned. He had fine white teeth and his eyes were still the wonderful sky blue of his childhood. "Ole said you were as hard as one of the plowshares and that some day the men would soften you like they take temper out of steel and that then you'd never be any good again."
John Moore snorted. "And you let the fool get a rise out of you, of course!"
"I knocked him down."
"And what did he do?"
"He knocked me down."
"Then what?" asked Moore.
"We shook hands and went to work again." Roger grinned at his mother's horrified face.
"I'd have fired you both if I'd seen it," said his father. "You were late again this morning, Son. Remember you're docked for that."
"Anyhow," Roger went on without noting apparently his father's warning, "he got confidential, while we were eating dinner, and told me that if you didn't give them an increase they were going on a strike that would make you sit up and take notice. He says you won't give the increase so the strike's due about the middle of July."
"Oh, the fools!" exclaimed John Moore. "I can't have a strike now with that big Russian order to fill. That order makes or mars me."