“Although,” he said, “sombody ought to do it, and show the falasy of the Play. In the first place, the world doesn’t owe the fellow a living, unless he will hustel around and make it. In the second place an employer has a right to turn away a man he doesn’t want. No one can force Capitle to employ Labor.”
“Well,” I said, “as long as Labor talks and makes a lot of noise, and Capitle is to dignafied to say anything, most people are going to side with Labor.”
He gazed at me.
“Right!” he said. “You’ve put your finger on it, in true femanine fashion.”
“Then why won’t you throw out this man when he comes to you for Work? He intends to force you to employ him.”
“Oh, he does, does he?” said father, in a feirce voice. “Well, let him come. I can stand up for my Principals, to. I’ll throw him out, all right.”
Dear Dairy, the battle is over and I have won. I am very happy. How true it is that strategy will do more than violance!
We have aranged it all. Adrian is to go to the mill, dressed like a decayed Gentleman, and father will refuse to give him work. I have said nothing about violance, leaving that to arange itself.
I must see Adrian and his manager. Carter has promised to tell some reporters that there may be a story at the mill on Saturday morning. I am to excited to sleep.
Feel horid. Forbiden to go out this morning.