"And what's the Workingmen's Trade and Labor Union doing?" Robert asked.
"Oh, muttering and threatening as usual," Francisco laughed. "They'll not do anything--with the memory of Coleman's 1500 pick-handles fresh in their minds...."
"Well, I'm glad those murderous ruffians are behind the bars," said Alice. But Francisco took her up. "That's rather hard on them, Aunt Alice," he retorted. "They're only a social reaction of the times ... when railroad millionaires have our Legislature by the throat and land barons refuse to divide their great holdings and give the small farmer a chance.... Kearney, aside from his rant of violence, which he doesn't mean, is advocating much-needed reforms.... I was talking with Henry George today...."
"He's the new city gas and water inspector, isn't he?" asked Benito. "They tell me he's writing a book."
"Yes, 'Progress and Poverty.' George believes the single tax will cure all social wrongs. But Jean...." He hesitated, flushing.
"Jean?" His aunt was quick to sense a mystery. "Who is Jean?"
"Oh, she's the new woman reporter," said Francisco hastily. He rose, "Well, I'll be going now."
His aunt looked after him in silent speculation. "So!" she spoke half to herself. "Jean's the woman reporter." And for some occult reason she smiled.
Robert saw them together some days later, talking very earnestly as they walked through "Pauper Alley." Such was the title bestowed upon Leidesdorff street between California and Pine streets, where the "mudhens"--those bedraggled, wretched women speculators who still waited hungrily for scanty crumbs from Fortune's table--chatted with broken-down and shabby men in endless reminiscent gabble of great fortunes they had "almost won."