"Hello, Petersen," Tom called out. "Come in. How are you?"
Petersen advanced into the room, took a chair and sat holding his derby hat on his knees with both hands. "I be purty good,—oh, yah," he answered, smiling happily. "I be movin' to-day."
"Where?" Tom asked. "But you haven't met Mrs. Barry, have you?"
"Glad to know you, Mr. Petersen." Mrs. Barry held out her hand, and Petersen, without getting up, took it in his great embarrassed fist.
She turned quickly about on Tom. "What d'you think about the strike?" she repeated.
"Yes, what about it?" echoed Barry and Pete.
"We're going to win it," Tom answered, with quiet confidence.
"You think so?"
"I do. We're going to win—certain!"
"If you do, we women'll all take turns kissin' your shoes."