Norman sat in his chair of state as presiding officer, bending over a mass of papers which Barbara had spread before him. She leaned close, and a stray hair from one of her brown curls touched his forehead. He trembled and stared blankly at the papers, seeing only a beautiful face.
"You understand?" she asked. "I've placed under each department the number of workers needed."
"Yes, yes, I understand!" he repeated, looking at her, blankly.
"I don't believe you've heard a word I've spoken to you," she said, reproachfully.
He was about to answer when the music stopped. Norman lifted his head with a start, rose quickly and faced the crowd.
"Comrades," he began, "the time has come for us to make good our faith in one another. You have proven yourselves brave and faithful in our struggle with the infamies of the system of capitalism. We call now for the heroes and heroines of actual work. We are entering, under the most favourable auspices, on the most important experiment yet made in the social history of the world. We are going to prove that mankind is one vast brotherhood—that love, not greed, can rule this earth.
"In our temporary organization we wish to outline the forms on which we will later found the permanent State of Ventura. At present we will organize four departments—Production, Distribution, Domestic Service, and Education.
"I am going to ask each one of you, by secret ballot, to choose your permanent work."
A cheer shook the building.
Norman flushed with pleasure, and continued quickly: