“Then, are you not rather false to your own principles? The clergy are a standing witness of the right of every man who will work to a support at the hands of the nation.”
Metzerott was too confused by this new way of putting the case to be able at first to reply, and Mr. Clare went on. “Unfortunately, my individual support came only from a very small part of the nation, who had become possessed of a larger proportion of the nation’s wealth than I was quite able to approve of; so, pending the arrival of the Commune, I am compelled—mind you, compelled, Mr. Metzerott—either to hold my tongue upon what I believe to be vital truth, or to work at my trade like a man.”
“By thunder, you are a man!” cried Karl Metzerott. “And your trade is carpentering, you say? I suppose you know that our head carpenter died a week ago?”
“My friend here wrote me as much.”
“So I thought. Well, we’ve been puzzled who to put in his place; for he had only boys under him, not old enough for the head of a department, and the applications we’ve had—but, however, it’s a matter for the board of managers, not the dinner-table. I’m a member of the board, though; and if you send in your application, I’ll see that it’s looked into.”
“I am very much obliged to you,” said Ernest Clare quietly. Then, with a smile, and a glance of Irish mischief, he added, “And you won’t expect me to hold my tongue about what you may consider a system of lies, while to me they are vital truths?”
“Hold your tongue? By gracious, Mr. Clare, it’s a free country! No man need hold his tongue in America, as long as it’s a decent one.”
Mr. Clare smiled again, but made no reply, and in a few moments more Louis pushed back his chair and rose to go.
“Why, you have eaten nothing, Louis,” cried his father, with some vexation. “I do not see that if a pink and white chit like that comes to be sixteen, it should spoil your appetite.”
“Pink and brown, if you mean Miss Rose Randolph,” said Fritz. “She’s pretty, though. Why not let the child enjoy himself, Emperor? it won’t last long.”