“Why, George,” she said placidly, “I thought you always insisted that all strikers ought to be put in jail.”
“I never did! Well, I mean— Some of ’em, of course. Irresponsible leaders. But I mean a fellow ought to be broad-minded and liberal about things like—”
“But dearie, I thought you always said these so-called ‘liberal’ people were the worst of—”
“Rats! Woman never can understand the different definitions of a word. Depends on how you mean it. And it don’t pay to be too cocksure about anything. Now, these strikers: Honest, they’re not such bad people. Just foolish. They don’t understand the complications of merchandizing and profit, the way we business men do, but sometimes I think they’re about like the rest of us, and no more hogs for wages than we are for profits.”
“George! If people were to hear you talk like that—of course I know you; I remember what a wild crazy boy you were; I know you don’t mean a word you say—but if people that didn’t understand you were to hear you talking, they’d think you were a regular socialist!”
“What do I care what anybody thinks? And let me tell you right now— I want you to distinctly understand I never was a wild crazy kid, and when I say a thing, I mean it, and I stand by it and— Honest, do you think people would think I was too liberal if I just said the strikers were decent?”
“Of course they would. But don’t worry, dear; I know you don’t mean a word of it. Time to trot up to bed now. Have you enough covers for to-night?”
On the sleeping-porch he puzzled, “She doesn’t understand me. Hardly understand myself. Why can’t I take things easy, way I used to?
“Wish I could go out to Senny Doane’s house and talk things over with him. No! Suppose Verg Gunch saw me going in there!
“Wish I knew some really smart woman, and nice, that would see what I’m trying to get at, and let me talk to her and— I wonder if Myra’s right? Could the fellows think I’ve gone nutty just because I’m broad-minded and liberal? Way Verg looked at me—”