“Miss Gladys' father, you mean?”
“Yes; old Lockman's brother-in-law. He's the other trustee of the estate. And do you suppose there's any rascality he doesn't know about?”
“But he's a reformer!” cried the boy wildly.
“Sure!” laughed Charlie. “He made a speech at the college commencement about representative government; I suppose you read it in the Express. But all the same, when the Democrats got in, his nibs came round and made his terms with Slattery, the new boss; and they get along so well it'll be his money that will put them in again next year.”
“But WHY?” cried Samuel dazed.
“For one thing,” said Charlie, “because he's got to have his man in the State legislature, to beat the child-labor bill.”
“The child-labor bill!”
“Surely. You knew he was fighting it, didn't you? They wanted to prevent children under fourteen from working in the cotton mills. Wygant sent Jack Pemberton up to the Capital for nothing at all but to beat that law.” Samuel sat with his hands clenched tightly. Before him there had come the vision of little Sophie Stedman with her wan and haggard face! “But why does he want the children in his mill?” he cried.
“Why?” echoed Charlie. “Good God! Because he can pay them less and work them harder. Did you suppose he wanted them there for their health?”
There was a long pause. The boy was wrestling with the most terrible specter that had yet laid hold upon him. “I don't believe he knows it!” he whispered half to himself. “I don't believe it!”