She started: “That is terrible—terrible! Couldn't you—couldn't you bring the subject up before the directors for—for—”
“Your sake—yes”—he said, admiringly.
“Humanity's—God's—Right's—helpless, ignorant, dying children!”
“Do you know,” he added quickly, “how many idle parents these hundred and twenty-five children support—actually support? Why, about fifty. Now do you see? The whole influence of these fifty people will be to violate the law—to swear the children are twelve or over. Yes, I am opposed to it—so is Kingsley—but we are powerless.”
“My enthusiasm has been aroused, of late, on the subject,” Alice went on, “by the talks and preaching of my old friend, Mr. Watts.”
Travis frowned: “The old Bishop of Cottontown,” he added ironically—“and he had better stop it—he will get into trouble yet.”
“Why?”
“Because he is doing the mill harm.”
“And I don't suppose one should do a corporation harm,” she said quickly,—“even to do humanity good?”
“Oh, Alice, let us drop so disagreeable a subject,” said her mother. “Come, Richard and I want some music.”