“I’m not against Willis Enderby. I’m for him,” grunted the veteran.
“Why; if he’s a conservative?”
“Oh, as for that, I can bring a long indictment against him. He’s a firm believer in the capitalistic system. He’s enslaved to the old economic theories, supply and demand, and all that rubbish from the ruins of ancient Rome. He believes that gold is the only sound material for pillars of society. The aristocratic idea is in his bones.” Edmonds, by a feat of virtuosity, sent a thin, straight column of smoke, as it might have been an allegorical and sardonic pillar itself, almost to the ceiling. “But he believes in fair play. Free speech. Open field. The rigor of the game. He’s a sportsman in life and affairs. That’s why he’s dangerous.”
“Dangerous? To whom?”
“To the established order. To the present system. Why, son, all we Socialists ask is fair play. Give us an even chance for labor, for the proletariat; an even show before the courts, an open forum in the newspapers, the right to organize as capital organizes, and we’ll win. If we can’t win, we deserve to lose. I say that men like Willis Enderby are our strongest supporters.”
“Probably he thinks his side will win, under the strict rules of the game.”
“Of course. But if he didn’t, he’d still be for fair play, to the last inch.”
“That’s a pretty fine thing to say of a man, Pop.”
“It’s a pretty fine man,” said Edmonds.
“What does Enderby want? What is he after?”