Grant replied, “Yes, I’m going to hold a meeting there to-night.”
“Well, if you try,” said the man, pushing his face close to Grant’s, “you’ll get your head knocked off–that’s all. We don’t like your kind–understand?” Grant looked at the man, took his measure physically and returned:
“All right, there’ll be some one around to pick it up–maybe!”
The man walked away, but turned to say:
“Mind now–you show up in South Harvey, and we’ll fix you right!”
As Grant turned to board a South Harvey car, Judge Van Dorn caught his arm, and said:
“Wait a minute, the next car will do.”
The Judge’s wife was with him, and Grant was shocked to see how doll-like her face had become, how the lines of character had been smoothed out, the eyelids stained, the eyebrows penciled, the lips colored, until she had a bisque look that made him shudder. He had seen faces like hers, and fancied that he knew their story.
“I would like to speak with you just a minute. Come up to the office. Margaret, dearie,” said Van Dorn, “you wait for me at Brotherton’s.” In the office, Van Dorn squared himself before Grant and said:
410“It’s no use, sir. You can’t hold a meeting there to-night–the thing’s set against you. I can’t stop them, but I know the rough element there will kill you if you try. You’ve done your best–why risk your head, man–for no purpose? You can’t make it–and it’s dangerous for you to try.”