Having been a working-man, and class-conscious, Hal was observant of the manners of mine-superintendents; he noted that Cartwright bowed politely to Edward, but did not include Edward's brother. “Mr. Cartwright,” he said, “I have come to you as a deputation from the workers of this camp.”
The superintendent did not appear impressed by the announcement.
“I am instructed to say that the men demand the redress of four grievances before they return to work. First—”
Here Cartwright spoke, in his quick, sharp way. “There's no use going on, sir. This company will deal only with its men as individuals. It will recognise no deputations.”
Hal's answer was equally quick. “Very well, Mr. Cartwright. In that case, I come to you as an individual.”
For a moment the superintendent seemed nonplussed.
“I wish to ask four rights which are granted to me by the laws of this state. First, the right to belong to a union, without being discharged for it.”
The other had recovered his manner of quiet mastery. “You have that right, sir; you have always had it. You know perfectly well that the company has never discharged any one for belonging to a union.”
The man was looking at Hal, and there was a duel of the eyes between them. A cold anger moved Hal. His ability to endure this sort of thing was at an end. “Mr. Cartwright,” he said, “you are the servant of one of the world's greatest actors; and you support him ably.”
The other flushed and drew back; Edward put in quickly: “Hal, there's nothing to be gained by such talk!”