THE 
 
 THRESHOLD 
 
 MARJORJE 
 
 BENTON 
 
 COOKE
 
 JOAN BABCOCK 
 
 "She was rewarded for her efforts to do them proud. 
 Gregory looked really startled and Dick became incoherent."
 
 The Threshold 
 
 By MARJORIE BENTON COOKE 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "The Girl Who Lived in the Woods," 
 "Cinderella Jane," Etc. 
 
 With Frontispiece in Colors 
 
 A. L. BURT COMPANY 
 Publishers New York 
 
 Published by arrangement with DOUBLEDAY, PACE & COMPANY
 
 Copyright, 19 IS, by 
 DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 
 
 All rights reserved, including that of 
 
 translation into foreign languages, 
 
 including the Scandinavian
 
 THE 
 THRESHOLD
 
 
 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 JOAN BABCOCK felt the urge of the Evangel. 
 It was her heritage, perhaps, from a visionary 
 father; it was most certainly the outgrowth of 
 "that state of life to which it had pleased God to call 
 her." There are spirits conceived and born in revolt; 
 such was her spirit. 
 
 As she turned the key in the door of the cottage, 
 where the first chapter of her life had been lived, she 
 turned it just as surely on that past. She visualized 
 swiftly the years that had gone before, the experiences 
 and emotions, shut up, now, in that empty house to be 
 left behind. 
 
 She walked quickly down the sordid street of the 
 industrial town, with a sense of release. She went 
 into a store to leave the key for the agent of the house. 
 
 "Where ye going now, Joan?" he asked her. 
 
 "To Chicago." 
 
 "Coin' to get a job there?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, I hope so," she answered evasively. 
 
 "We'll miss ye down here." 
 
 "Thanks, Mike. I'll not forget my friends here." 
 
 Her real farewells had been said the night before. 
 She was glad that her associates were all busy at the 
 
 3
 
 4 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 mills, so she could go away without any more emotional 
 strain. As she stood waiting for the train, she looked 
 once more at the great foundries, with their huge 
 chimneys piercing the haze of dirt and smoke that 
 eternally surrounded them. The mammoth smelter 
 burst into flames every few moments, like a volcanic 
 eruption. 
 
 "They're like altar fires the altar fires of Mammon, 
 tended by the sweating, unthinking slaves of the 
 system!" thought Joan. 
 
 Her father had been one of them, her mother too. 
 Both had been sacrifices, the former in an accident, 
 when, trying to save a fellow workman he had himself 
 been killed; the latter through the death-dealing strain 
 of monotonous, unending toil. 
 
 Once in her seat in the train Joan gave her thoughts 
 free rein to hover over the immediate past. Three 
 days before she had laid her mother away in the rest 
 she had so sorely needed. She could not feel poignant 
 grief that her mother's experience here had ended. 
 There had been so little of joy, or comfort in her fifty 
 years. Hope of anything different, anything better 
 had died in her mother years before. She had become 
 a dehumanized thing, an automaton, which worked 
 and slept. She had never understood her husband's 
 dreams, she blamed them for all his failures. No won- 
 der that she was filled with bitterness, when the man- 
 tle of dreamer fell upon their only child. 
 
 That Joan put her beliefs into action that where 
 her father had preached, she practised this was the 
 significant fact that her mother failed to grasp. So 
 it was, that Joan had closed those tired eyes with only 
 gentle regret. 
 
 She sent her memory back to the days of her child-
 
 THE THRESHOLD 5 
 
 hood when she had begun to understand things, to 
 rebel. When she knew that life must give more than 
 it gave to her family to the people about them or 
 it was not worth having. She knew that her mother 
 grumbled, that her father was resigned; that he read 
 books from the library and talked about democracy, 
 that he urged her to get an education, and then to 
 rouse the workers of America to a realization of the 
 country's need. She loved him and listened to him. 
 
 At the time when all the children of the town were 
 put to work in the mills, Joan refused to go. She 
 found a job in a store, where between serving customers, 
 she could study. When she was fourteen she first 
 heard about the University of Chicago, in the nearby 
 city. She composed a letter to the President, telling 
 him her ambitions, admitting her lack of money 
 and urging him to tell her how she might earn a uni- 
 versity education. He answered with a discouraging 
 list of requirements for entrance. He suggested a 
 correspondence course of preparation, in case she 
 could not enter a regular preparatory school. 
 
 She took his advice, and three years of unremitting 
 labour followed. Work at night, everything sacrificed 
 to the god of her ambition, and then one day she said 
 good-bye to Whiting, to her astonished mother and 
 went to Chicago to get her education. By extreme 
 economy, by living just over the line from starvation, 
 doing outside work, she managed to make a living and 
 keep up her work. She studied with absolute fervour. 
 This was her one chance to raise herself above the level 
 of Whiting, to graduate into a world where there was 
 colour and leisure and happiness. She seized upon it 
 so greedily that the end of her first year found her 
 almost a nervous wreck. But she had caught the
 
 6 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 attention of the faculty and some kindly professor in- 
 vestigated her way of living and put a stop to it. 
 Clerical work in one of the faculty offices was arranged 
 for her and this gave her some freedom. She was 
 offered an opportunity for special service in one of the 
 halls in return for a room and board there, so her second 
 year had given her a first taste of real living. She was 
 comfortably housed and nourished as to her body. 
 Her mind was fed. A new need a desire for com- 
 panionship appeared with the possession of some 
 leisure. Joan looked about, for the first time really 
 aware of her fellow students. The first year had been 
 such a hand-to-hand fight for existence and her chance, 
 that the human equation was lost sight of. But now 
 she began to look into what you might call the social 
 organization of the University. 
 
 Her discoveries did not surprise her. There were, as 
 always, the privileged few. They were the well dressed, 
 protected children of parents of means. They had 
 clubs and societies and common social interests. Then 
 there were all the rest, many of them self-supporting 
 and ardent students like herself. They had debating 
 societies and public forums in which they discussed the 
 questions of the day. They had no time for after- 
 noon teas and dances. A good many of these students, 
 especially among the girls, were envious of that happy- 
 go-lucky set, taking its opportunities so lightly. Some 
 of them were bitter at their exclusion. But Joan was 
 not one of these. If Whiting had not made her bitter, 
 surely this play-world of the campus could not. She 
 realized that it was important to keep sweet. She 
 knew that she was not to be a part of the world in 
 which these happy, careless students were to live. 
 She knew that her lot was to be thrown in with the
 
 THE THRESHOLD 7 
 
 workers of the world, so she taught herself to watch 
 these others as one does a flock of butterflies on a 
 summer's day. 
 
 There was one set she liked to speculate about. In 
 her leisure moments she built romances about them. 
 The heroine was a girl who lived in her Hall. Her 
 name was Alice Kent. She was slight, and blond, with 
 a tip-tilted nose and wonderful blue eyes. She was 
 the "enfant terrible" of the dormitory, always up to 
 some prank, always in trouble with the matron, or with 
 her professors. She had beaux by the score, she rarely 
 set foot upon the campus, unattended. 
 
 The most important scalp Miss Kent exhibited was 
 that of a peerless male being, named Philip Morton. 
 He was tall and thin, with wavy brown hair, like the 
 man on the magazine covers. He affected a bored 
 look, aided by sleepy eyes. His clothes were the talk 
 of the campus. He was the social leader, par ex- 
 cellence, of his set. He was 99 per cent, pure hero, 
 and the stuff that dreams are made of. 
 
 His rival in devotion to Miss Kent was the great 
 Buck Porter, captain of the football team, a sort of 
 campus demi-god, who made the hearts of the ladies 
 flutter. He was a huge handsome creature. 
 
 None of these radiant beings ever glanced in Joan's 
 direction, they did not so much as suspect her existence, 
 but a continued story about them ran through Joan's 
 dreams. 
 
 It was in the spring of her senior year that her 
 mother's sudden death had called her home. The train 
 was bearing her back to college for her last few months. 
 Examinations were to be faced, and all the graduation 
 ceremonies. After that what? She had no relative 
 left her. She was alone and free. She had no money
 
 8 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 she must make her own way, even if she married 
 Edward. The prospect of work did not terrify her, 
 but marriage? 
 
 College had done much for her besides train her 
 mind and store it with facts. It had given her a chance 
 to test her powers in many ways. She knew that she 
 had personality, that she could win friends easily. She 
 had learned to value the fact that she was good to 
 look at. She had learned how to dress on practically 
 nothing, and perhaps most valuable of all, the Uni- 
 versity had opened to her the Book of Romance. This 
 last year had brought her a lover. 
 
 He was an earnest young man in the Divinity School, 
 named Edward Crane. It was perhaps their common 
 purposefulness which had attracted them to each other. 
 He was to devote his life to the service of men's soul's, 
 Joan was to devote hers to the service of their bodies 
 in so much as the improving of social conditions meant 
 better and more comfortable living for the workers. 
 
 What began as intellectual fellowship had developed 
 into love on the man's part. It was no small part of 
 the many problems of these closing days at the Uni- 
 versity that Joan had to search her heart for an answer 
 to Crane's love. 
 
 She distrusted herself, because she continually post- 
 poned her decision. How much of her response to 
 him was the joy of her first companionship? How 
 much of it was hunger for romance, for human affec- 
 tion? How much of it was due to spring and the swift 
 running sap of youth, with its primal demands ? 
 
 If she married Crane, could she do her work in con- 
 junction with his or would her effort always be inter- 
 rupted by changes of his charges be indirect because 
 of the conditions in places where they might have to
 
 THE THRESHOLD 9 
 
 live? Was she prepared to give up her work entirely, 
 and merge herself in his? It was when she asked 
 herself this direct question, that herself evaded the 
 answer. 
 
 As the train drew into the station, she saw Crane on 
 the platform waiting for her. His eager eyes, the 
 marked features of his ascetic face, searched each car 
 for her. His figure, slightly bent, leaned against a 
 post, his shabby clothes flapping in the wind. Joan's 
 heart went out to him, with a rush of maternal affec- 
 tion. His need of her was obvious. When he saw 
 her, his whole face lighted and he hurried to her, tak- 
 ing her bag from her bending to her with his whis- 
 pered "Dear!" 
 
 "How good of you to come, Edward," she said. 
 
 "Joan it broke my heart that you would not let 
 me go home with you, on this sad errand be of some 
 help to you " 
 
 "I know but I just couldn't! I had to do it all 
 alone," she said gravely, "but I'm grateful." 
 
 "Let's go over to the lake front it's dashing up 
 splendidly," he suggested, and she nodded assent. 
 
 They swung off ajt a good pace and into the wind. 
 It whipped their clothes and stung their faces. Once 
 on the esplanade they could barely move ahead and 
 speech was impossible. The water was black the sky 
 sullen; great mountainous waves pounded in, to break 
 across their very feet. They fought their way along 
 the whole stretch, and then, blown but triumphant, they 
 turned off into the park. 
 
 "Oh, that was wonderful!" cried Joan. "It makes 
 you feel like Atlas, shouldering the world." 
 
 "That's a trifle too heroic for me," smiled Crane. 
 
 "Not for me ! I knew every step along that walk.,
 
 io THE THRESHOLD 
 
 that I could fight anything, be anything, conquer any- 
 thing that life sets up for me to meet." 
 
 She stood there, her clothes wrapped tight about her 
 straight boyish figure, her face flushed, her head lifted, 
 and Edward Crane felt her vitality as one would an 
 electric shock. 
 
 "Aren't we young and serious?" laughed the girl. 
 "I'll conquer nothing, except perhaps my own spirit 
 but I know I'll be a fighter till I die!" 
 
 "Yes I believe you belong to the conquerors of the 
 world," he said. "I suppose that is why you fascinate 
 me so, Joan. I only want to till God's little acre some- 
 where. How can I ever hope to make you content 
 with that?" he said ruefully. 
 
 "Maybe, some day, I might be content to do that, but 
 not now, not while I'm young and strong. I'm tired 
 of being starved for the things I want, for travel and 
 change and new people. I hated my life until I came 
 to the University. If I hadn't made up my mind to 
 come here, if I hadn't defied Whiting, I would have 
 been an operator in the mills today, instead of a col- 
 lege graduate, with the world before me. I'm never 
 going to submit, Edward, not to anything!" 
 
 "Not even to the will of God?" 
 
 "Not even to the will of God." 
 
 "Joan, don't, that's blasphemous 1" he reproached 
 her. 
 
 "How do you know what God's will is? Suppose 
 I had thought it was God's will to stay on in the fac- 
 tories at Whiting, to be with my parents and do as 
 they had done? But I didn't. I decided that God 
 willed me to get an education, and make the most I 
 could of my powers, to help the people back there in 
 Whiting."
 
 THE THRESHOLD n 
 
 "Surely God would always will service." 
 
 "But I'm not setting forth, like a Christian martyr, 
 dedicated to service, Edward, for the sake of serving. 
 I want to help the workers because I know their needs, 
 but I intend to work out my own salvation, in the proc- 
 ess of Bousing them." 
 
 "You're going out to fight the good fight," he per- 
 sisted. 
 
 "It's up to me whether it's a good fight, saith the 
 woman unto the preacher," she retorted impudently. 
 He smiled, even while he deprecated her levity. 
 
 "Joan, Joan, mine is the case of the ground hog that 
 loved the singing lark!" he sighed. 
 
 "Lark? I'm no lark I'm a Cat-bird. Caw, 
 caw!" She mimicked the harsh complaint of that 
 most pestiferous bird, and Crane threw back his head 
 and laughed. 
 
 These two inconspicuous units in the student mass 
 were tasting their first romance, and it was sweet.
 
 CHAPTER JI 
 
 MISS RUTH EARL sat in her office, dictating 
 letters to a secretary. She was small and 
 slight and prim, as an old-fashioned flower 
 is prim. Her New England ancestors had registered 
 their mark on her countenance and demeanour. The 
 members of her staff looked up to her, respected her, 
 were a trifle in awe of her. The patrons cf the Pro- 
 fessional Women's Bureau over which she presided, all 
 relied upon her intelligence and her efficiency, but it 
 would have been an unbearable shock to any of these 
 people who came in daily contact with her, to learn that 
 Miss Ruth Earl was possessed of a man's size sense of 
 humour. Her friends discovered that back of what 
 might be called the New England imprint, was a warm 
 heart, a quick sympathy, a love of colour and fun. 
 
 Mr. Gregory Farwell was announced. With a nod, 
 Miss Earl dismissed the stenographer, and looked up 
 at the tall, rather imposing man who came into the 
 office. 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Farwell," said the head of the 
 Bureau. 
 
 "Good morning, madam," announced the gentleman 
 with a bow. He seated himself with a courtliness of 
 manner, holding his hat and cane. 
 
 "I understand that you supply professional and edu- 
 cated women for every demand " 
 
 "Well, we try to," smiled Miss Earl. 
 
 "Then I should like to explain my situation to you," 
 
 12
 
 THE THRESHOLD 13 
 
 he began, and Miss Earl drew a note book toward her, 
 and bowed gravely. 
 
 "I am a bachelor. My home is in Farwell. I am 
 the owner of mills and factories in the town, which 
 necessitate my making my home near by." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "My house is rather large. My family consists, or 
 has consisted up to the present time of my nephew, a 
 lad of seventeen, Miss Arethusa Jenks, an elderly 
 cousin, who acted as head of the establishment, and 
 myself." 
 
 "I see" 
 
 "I regret to say that Miss Jenks has passed on " 
 
 "Yes so you want," began Miss Earl, but the 
 gentleman was not to be interrupted. 
 
 "If you will allow me to give you quite a detailed 
 account at this meeting, I think it will save us both 
 time in the end," he remarked. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said Miss Earl. 
 
 "Miss Jenks had been of great service to us, had 
 devoted her best efforts to us, and I wish to do her 
 complete justice. But she was a woman of more than 
 middle age, and naturally her view of life seemed some- 
 what archaic to my nephew, who is seventeen. He 
 urges me to find some one who is up to date, and not too 
 old, to take the place of Miss Arethusa." 
 
 "Very natural, I'm sure," murmured Ruth Earl, 
 visioning "Miss Arethusa." 
 
 "Natural, possibly, but full of dangers. I feel that 
 it is a very important step, this choosing of a woman 
 who will be able to influence my nephew. She must be 
 very intelligent, as well as tactful." 
 
 "Is she the housekeeper?" 
 
 "Oh no there is a housekeeper under her."
 
 14 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "Just what are her duties?" 
 
 "Her duties are to be agreeable and create a home 
 atmosphere." 
 
 Miss Earl choked back a laugh and gravely wrote 
 it out on a card. 
 
 "She is hostess of my house, in other words. Now 
 that my nephew is growing up, I think we should enter- 
 tain rather frequently." 
 
 "You want a young woman, as I understand it. 
 Must she be a widow or well a matron?" in- 
 quired Miss Earl. 
 
 "I think it would be safer." 
 
 "May I ask what are the dangers? You have used 
 the word 'safe' twice." 
 
 "Well, my nephew is at the impressionable stage. I 
 should not want him to fall in love with this woman " 
 
 "You want her plain, then?" queried Miss Earl, un- 
 smiling. 
 
 "No I should say not not too plain. That was 
 one of his complaints about poor Miss Arethusa. He 
 said that you could not respect the opinions of any- 
 body with apple-teeth like Miss Arethusa's !" 
 
 It was too much for Miss Earl, she laughed aloud 
 and Mr. Farwell looked surprised, then joined her. 
 
 "I suppose this is rather an unusual demand " 
 
 "We're used to unusual demands, but this is a little 
 special. The requirements are rather more social 
 than practical." 
 
 "That's it exactly. You can see yourself that it is 
 important that we find the right woman, on my 
 nephew's account. Not flirtatious, nor flighty no 
 fortune hunters." 
 
 "We never register them," said Miss Earl gravely. 
 
 "Dick would like her to have an interest in sports."
 
 THE THRESHOLD 15 
 
 Miss Earl nodded. "I'd like her to be an agreeable 
 companion to me, when Dick is away, or at school. 
 I'm at home a great deal and I do not find many 
 friends in Farwell which is an industrial town." 
 
 "And your requirements in an agreeable companion 
 are?" 
 
 Mr. Farwell glanced at her, but nothing could be 
 more business-like than her expression. 
 
 "Education first I prefer a college woman, with 
 nice tastes running toward books, and the fine arts. 
 Pleasant voice and agreeable manners. Mentally, I 
 should prefer her reactionary; I find radical women 
 very upsetting " 
 
 Miss Earl laid down her pencil and lifted a quizzical 
 smile to the serious gentleman. 
 
 "Mr. Farwell, we cannot find this woman for you !" 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "She doesn't exist " 
 
 "Oh but I'm not unreasonable " 
 
 "Let me read you my notes: 'Personality require- 
 ment must be agreeable well mannered pleasant 
 voice normal teeth. Neither plain nor too good 
 looking a widow, preferred. Not flirtatious, but in- 
 teresting to a boy of seventeen. Practical require- 
 ments Knowledge of how to run house, direct servants 
 create home atmosphere; interested in sports. 
 Mental requirements College education taste for 
 books fine arts conservative opinions.' ' 
 
 She looked at him hopefully but he only said, "Is it 
 too much to ask? I'll pay anything necessary." 
 
 "My opinion is that conservative ladies with a taste 
 for fine arts do not go in for sports." 
 
 "I don't know much about women. I suppose that is 
 so. Well the boy is the important thing. Suppose
 
 1 6 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 we leave me out of it entirely. Let's find a nice, cheer- 
 ful motherly woman, whom he will like " 
 
 "With a taste for sports," added Miss Earl. 
 
 "Leave out the sports he can't have everything. 
 Would that make it easier?" 
 
 "Not much. My advice would be, Mr. Farwell, to 
 find this woman among your own acquaintances. You 
 see, we register women equipped to do certain definite 
 things now your demand is so indefinite " 
 
 "I want a woman to make two men comfortable and 
 happy is that indefinite?" 
 
 "No but women who like that kind of employ- 
 ment usually find it in marriage they do not come to 
 us." 
 
 "I see. But if I took one without a college degree, 
 and with no special training ?" 
 
 "But it takes special training to run your house, Mr. 
 Farwell. I can supply you with any number of trained 
 house managers, but I cannot guarantee the social re- 
 quirements " 
 
 "Wouldn't some of these house managers have 
 social grace, just by accident?" 
 
 "I'm afraid not." 
 
 "Then you cannot help me?" 
 
 "I'm so sorry. If any one comes in, who remotely 
 suggests the qualities you want, I'll gladly put you in 
 touch with her, but it's only fair to warn you that it 
 is very improbable that any such person will come in. 
 At least, you'll only get some of the things you want." 
 
 "I would try to be reasonable, Miss Earl, I assure 
 you. I should be greatly indebted to you, if you would 
 keep my needs in mind." 
 
 "I'll do my best. You want this this woman right 
 away?"
 
 THE THRESHOLD 17 
 
 "Yes we are in great need of her at once." 
 "All right. I'll let you know. Good morning." 
 "Thank you very much. Good morning." 
 He left her and Miss Earl sat for several seconds 
 staring at the card in her hand, before she laughed and 
 wrote "Paragon wanted" across its top. She went to 
 the filing cabinet and began to run over the registra- 
 tion cards, glancing only at the confidential line added 
 by the person who had interviewed the candidate. 
 They ran, "Very plain no personality." "Pretty; 
 silly manner." "Well informed serious manner and 
 awful voice. . . ." So on, indefinitely, Miss Earl 
 chuckled as she read. She wished the handsome gentle- 
 man with the grand manner could have glanced at these 
 confidential reports. It might have helped him to un- 
 derstand that charm and personality are not the quali- 
 ties offered for sale, by women in professions, in these 
 practical days of 1917. 
 
 Miss Earl's well ordered thoughts suddenly began to 
 dance away impishly, out of the regular channels pre- 
 scribed by the duties of the Bureau. These thoughts, 
 from nine to six were of the most docile and busi- 
 ness-like character, having to do with efficiency, capa- 
 bility, adaptability, and such tiresome essentials. They 
 were used to bromidic conversations after this fash- 
 ion: 
 
 "Miss Earl, I am in need of a secretary, with a col- 
 lege education and some experience, for about sixteen 
 dollars a week." 
 
 "I understand, Mr. Smith. I think I have just the 
 woman you want," etc., etc. 
 
 Something about the distinguished Mr. Farwell and 
 his ridiculous demand set her thoughts rollicking off, 
 as if a busy Friday morning were a holiday. Why was
 
 1 8 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 it an unheard of demand to make of a professional 
 woman that she be charming? 
 
 What was the matter with our education, with our 
 professional training, that it laid no emphasis upon the 
 social graces, nay, that such training always discour- 
 aged and under valued them. There was a tacit un- 
 derstanding that sex charm on the part of a self-sup- 
 porting woman was unnecessary and out of place. It 
 might mislead an employer! Inconspicuous personal- 
 ities to correspond with inconspicuous business clothes, 
 these were prescribed for all working women. 
 
 Miss Earl wished that every applicant of the Bureau 
 had to take a special course in charm I But no, she 
 would have to find the teachers, and where? 
 
 In her college days the girls were not all just alike. 
 They seemed very individual as she remembered them. 
 Was it just that they were young? Why was it that 
 when women presented themselves, in this office, take 
 them by and large, they were all alike? Cut out of 
 the same cloth, sewed up in the same seams. They 
 were all so eminently respectable and nice. There 
 were days when she did wish somebody would come in 
 in a bright red hat or a royal purple coat ! Of course, 
 there were silly ones but they weren't delightfully silly, 
 they were only silly silly. 
 
 Now what sort of a woman would it have to be to 
 please these two men? She wished she could qualify 
 herself! She would leave the old Bureau without a 
 thought, to "create a home atmosphere" at Farwell 
 Hall, as the gentleman's country place was called, she 
 noted from his card. 
 
 She began to imagine the right woman. She made 
 her tall, gracious and beautiful. About thirty-three, a 
 sweeping creature, who would awe the boy a trifle, yet
 
 THE THRESHOLD 19 
 
 fascinate him. She must be unusual in mind, and of 
 distinguished tastes to qualify as companion for the 
 exacting Mr. Farwell. No such person had ever 
 visited the Bureau, but Miss Earle saw her, with her 
 mind's eye, very clearly. 
 
 Miss Earl thought over the army of rather drab 
 candidates which filed in and out of the offices every 
 day. It would be enlightening to this nai'f gentleman, 
 if she sent some of them down to Farwell to interview 
 him. She put his card in with the F's, in the employers' 
 drawer, and went back to her desk, ringing for her sec- 
 retary. The interview had amused her greatly, but 
 unless a miracle happened, she could not serve Mr. 
 Gregory Farwell any further. Of course, she was not 
 prepared to doubt the possibility of the miracle, because 
 they happened almost daily in that office. 
 
 "Miss Burke, do you know any applicant who could 
 be agreeable and create a home atmosphere?" 
 
 "\Vhy no, Miss Earl," replied the girl, as startled as 
 if Miss Earl had demanded a blossoming rod. 
 
 "Strange, the requests people do make of us!" com- 
 mented Miss Earl, smiling. "Take this letter, 
 please."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE Campus of the University was spread witk 
 a new green carpet, and dotted with bright- 
 coloured human flora. The white flannels of 
 the men and the multi-coloured gowns and parasols of 
 the girls gave it a lovely festive air. They strolled in 
 pairs they sat in groups. Laughter was everywhere 
 and happy faces. The spirit of it was infectious. 
 Joan came across from the Hall where she lived, cross- 
 ing toward Haskell. She felt like dancing. She was 
 going toward the high moment of her four years' work. 
 She had been chosen Ivy Orator of her class, and she 
 was on her way to the exercises. 
 
 She wore a new white dress for the occasion, her 
 cheeks were flushed, and by the glances that followed 
 her, the cordial nods that greeted her, she knew she 
 looked her pretty best. 
 
 Edward Crane caught up with her. He, too, wore 
 new clothes to celebrate the occasion and his cap and 
 gown became him. 
 
 "Hello 1" said Joan gaily. 
 
 "You're the prettiest girl on the campus," he said 
 enthusiastically. 
 
 "This frock meant many 'doing withouts,' but it's 
 worth it," she boasted. 
 
 "I haven't had a chance to congratulate you on what 
 happened last night," he continued. 
 
 "Oh, Edward wasn't it wonderful?" she cried, lift- 
 ing her glowing face. "I never was so surprised in my 
 
 20
 
 THE THRESHOLD 21 
 
 life as I was when they chose me to go to that conven- 
 tion." 
 
 "I don't see why you should be surprised " 
 
 "But think of the people who are dying to go to 
 New York" 
 
 "Weren't you?" 
 
 "Yes, of course, but I am not specially fitted to be 
 sent do you think I am?" 
 
 "I think you've worked hard in this Y. W. C. A. work 
 here I know you're the best speaker they've got 
 why shouldn't you go?" 
 
 "Well I am going thanks be 1 Expenses paid, 
 and a chance to see the world! Oh, Edward life is 
 very good!" 
 
 "My dear my dear!" he said tenderly, and she 
 looked away quickly to avoid his eyes. "See them 
 floating across to this quadrangle. Aren't they 
 pretty?" she exclaimed, pointing to the strolling groups 
 approaching them. 
 
 "Yes and they are all coming to listen to you, 
 Joan. Do you know how proud I am?" 
 
 "Thank you," she said gratefully. It was big of 
 him to take such pleasure in her triumphs for no 
 honours had come to him, although he was being gradu- 
 ated. 
 
 "Good luck, dearest," he whispered, as the Master 
 of Ceremonies came forward to meet Joan. 
 
 "Who is that peach?" a tall young man said to the 
 girl with him, as Joan took her place. 
 
 "Her name is Joan Babcock. She's been around for 
 four years, but nobody knows her. Fearful grind, they 
 say. Phi Beta Kappa and all that. She is pretty, 
 isn't she?" 
 
 Edward Crane could scarcely control his impulse
 
 22 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 to arraign them. Careless poetasters in the world of 
 learning, yet they dared classify his Joan, with her 
 courage and her dreams! He turned away and 
 changed his seat. The whole quadrangle was filled 
 now with colour, talk and laughter. The sun slanted 
 across the beautiful grey buildings that flanked the 
 square the sky above was blue and cloudless the June 
 air soft and warm. Youth and spring and beauty, and 
 above it all, Joan, in her white dress. It was a picture 
 that etched full on Edward Crane's memory. 
 
 Joan as she looked across the crowd felt the quick 
 tears come to her eyes at the thought of what it would 
 have meant to her father to see her here and now 
 Then her young joy in the colour and excitement of it r 
 took possession of her. The world was a wonderful 
 place, even as she had said to Crane Dear old Ed- 
 ward ! She had to decide about him so soon now. . . . 
 How many girls out there were facing the same de- 
 cisions? Nearly every student carries a Major in 
 Love in the Spring Quarter. How jolly they were! 
 How beautiful! What were they going to bring to 
 this old world, into which they were graduating? A 
 vision of all the campuses, of all the colleges and uni- 
 versities of the country filled with just such eager, 
 happy throngs as this, came into Joan's mind. An 
 army of recruits, equipped for service. What enemies 
 would they conquer, what new flags would they raise? 
 How far would they push and prod the world forward? 
 It was with a prayer on her lips for the true service of 
 great causes, that Joan faced her classmates, when her 
 name was called. 
 
 There is no need to weary you with her oration. It 
 was young and ardent and idealistic. Just such words 
 were being said, no doubt, on all the campuses of her
 
 THE THRESHOLD 23 
 
 vision. Perhaps because she had already come to 
 grips with life, as few of her hearers had, Joan spoke 
 with authority about the seriousness of what she called 
 "The Crusades" they were to enter. She begged them 
 not to let their four years of preparation go for naught. 
 Out of thousands who longed for the opportunity, they 
 had been privileged to realize what education meant. 
 Their very advantage laid upon them the duty of serv- 
 ice to their fellows. However jejune the address may 
 have been, it roused her listeners. The passion with 
 which the girl spoke held their attention completely. 
 There was a shiver of terror, then a thrill of power, in 
 response to the big duties to which she called them. 
 When, in the name of her class, she bent to plant the 
 ivy, that class burst into a shout of applause and appre- 
 ciation. It felt that it had outdone itself, in Joan's 
 expression of its high ideals. She turned a misty smile 
 upon them, in answer to their applause. It was a great 
 and solemn moment to her. 
 
 After the exercises she was surrounded by enthusi- 
 astic listeners. Members of her class who had never 
 known of her existence before, crowded up to offer 
 homage. It was buzzed about that she was being sent 
 to New York as the representative of the students to 
 the National Convention of the Y. W. C. A. Con- 
 gratulations poured in, with good wishes and compli- 
 ments. Joan had never felt so young and happy in 
 her life. 
 
 Edward watched her from afar, with an ache in his 
 heart. Were success and honours carrying her away 
 from him? She met all these aliens with poise and 
 ease. He knew that they would embarrass him. Had 
 he the right to carry her off to begin with him, in some 
 obscure village even if she would come?
 
 24 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 The crowd drifted on, leaving the college hero, the 
 Captain of the Football Team and the social leader of 
 the college world with Joan. She beckoned to Crane 
 and he reluctantly joined them. She introduced the 
 three men, and they drifted to a near-by bench and all 
 sat down, the Social Leader, Philip Morton, extended 
 on the grass at Joan's feet. 
 
 "By Jove, how have you escaped me?" he remarked 
 with a glowing look. 
 
 "By never being near where you are !" she laughed. 
 
 "But where have you kept yourself?" 
 
 "Hidden in classrooms and libraries," she replied. 
 "No wonder you never saw me." 
 
 "Oh, come now, I go to class every once in a 
 while " he defended. 
 
 "But you take all the snaps, so of course, we don't 
 meet!" 
 
 "Ouch !" said Philip, the adored, joining in the laugh 
 of the other two men. 
 
 "I've been a fan of yours for a long time, but I 
 didn't know you could talk like that," said Captain 
 Buck Porter. 
 
 "One could scarcely be in the University and not 
 know you !" Joan answered, smiling up at him. 
 
 Edward felt the first tinge of jealousy he had known. 
 He rose and excused himself. 
 
 "Shall I see you tonight?" he inquired. 
 
 "I'll be at home," she began. 
 
 "At home tonight? Indeed you'll not! Why, 
 this is the night of the Senior Ball!" cried Philip. 
 
 "But I'm not going." 
 
 "Not going you ! Is she going to that ball, Buck ?" 
 
 "She is," replied the giant. 
 
 "But I haven't any partner, nor any clothes "
 
 THE THRESHOLD 25 
 
 "Wear what you've got on we'll fix the partners 
 eh, Buck?" 
 
 "Us will!" 
 
 "Oh but I can't" 
 
 "Oh but you can you must!" cried Philip. 
 
 "I'll excuse you," said Edward, coldly. 
 
 "Oh, no I" 
 
 "The matter is settled the discussion closed," re- 
 marked the social arbiter. 
 
 "Good-bye," said Crane, and left them. 
 
 "Oh, Edward!" she said, impulsively, sensing his 
 hurt. 
 
 "Who is old Sour Ball?" asked Buck. 
 
 "He's a great friend of mine," she defended. 
 
 "Beg pardon withdraw the remark," jibed Buck. 
 
 "Buck, you may have from now till six P. M. to fill 
 half of Miss Babcock's program. I'll take it after 
 that. Neither of us to take more than three dances 
 for ourselves. Is that all right, Miss Babcock?" 
 
 "I suppose so. I'm just like Cinderella, going to my 
 first ball. Do you really think I ought to go?" 
 
 He sat up and marked time for a bar of introduction, 
 then he and Buck sang out, in unison, "We do I We 
 do! We do!" 
 
 Joan laughed. 
 
 "I'd love it," she cried. 
 
 "The pumpkin coach will arrive at nine P. M. with 
 me and my girl also a bloke named Donald Trask 
 he's the lucky dog who draws you. He's home from 
 Yale on a forced vacation," he added. "Be off, my 
 son," to Buck. 
 
 The big man took his departure. 
 
 So it was that Joan went to the ball. Once launched 
 on the primrose path she found nothing but kindness.
 
 26 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 The romantic Miss Kent, who dwelt in the hall where 
 she lived, came to her room, after dinner, with the 
 offer of a ball gown "and trimmings," as she said. It 
 was so sweetly offered that Joan accepted without a 
 qualm. 
 
 "Come to my room and try on We're going to- 
 gether, you know I'm Phil's girl." 
 
 It was exciting to try on pretty clothes and be told 
 how lovely you were ! It was more exciting to de- 
 scend to the hall, where the two resplendent ones 
 awaited them. Was there ever such fun as Mr. Don- 
 ald Trask's chaffing and ardent flirtation? A full 
 program good music, fine floor, admiration to her 
 heart's content. Is it any wonder that Joan floated 
 about as happy as a cloud. 
 
 "I've just come to a decision," remarked Mr. Trask, 
 at the close of a dance. 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "I've decided to marry you!" 
 
 "Am I to be consulted?" 
 
 "You are not." 
 
 "Well that relieves me of any responsibility," she 
 laughed. 
 
 So they played and joked and danced the night 
 through. Joan felt that she was just like the rest of 
 them she could give them as good as they gave 
 she could play their game. She went home in the grey 
 morning, tirecl and happy. 
 
 The next scene that was enacted was the graduation. 
 The big hall packed with people, the front rooms filled 
 with the candidates for degrees, in caps and gowns. It 
 was all ceremonious and rather solemn. The address 
 made Joan choke it called her back so surely from 
 the dreams of the night before. She must not go
 
 THE THRESHOLD 27 
 
 astray. She was a worker not a butterfly. But oh, 
 the sweetness of that memory! 
 
 She caught Edward's absorbed face across the crowd. 
 Tomorrow she was to start on her new adventuring to 
 New York. Today she must settle with Edward. 
 Her turn came and she marched up and received her 
 sheepskin. Then they were all filing out into the sun- 
 shine again. She had a few gay words with some new 
 friends, but she waited for Edward. He came slowly, 
 and when he realized that she was waiting, the look in 
 his face hurt her. 
 
 "Let's get rid of our caps and gowns and go over by 
 the lake," she said. 
 
 "All right. I'll come by for you in ten minutes," 
 he answered. 
 
 The walk to the park was rather silent only casual 
 remarks came to their lips. But once out on a deserted 
 pier, with only the great shining lake as companion, 
 Edward looked up at Joan, who sat above him gazing 
 out over the water, and for a second he laid his fore- 
 head against her knee. 
 
 "Dear," he said, "I think I understand. I love you 
 with all my heart, as you must know but I'm not so 
 blind that I cannot see that you do not care that much 
 for me. Our companionship has meant everything to 
 me. I shall always be your debtor " 
 
 "Edward don't. It has been that way with me, 
 too," she interrupted him. 
 
 "Not quite. I want you to start out with the whole 
 world to choose from I want you to be free. I'm not 
 big enough for you " 
 
 "Please " she begged her hand on his hair. 
 
 "Don't let us make this last hour a sad one. I want 
 it to remember always. It's settled now. If ever you
 
 28 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 should want me I'll be there. . . . Now let's look at 
 the sunset and be happy." 
 
 So they sat until its glory faded in the twilight sky. 
 In her heart Joan knew that he had spared her that 
 he had risen to his biggest self, to make her going on, 
 happy. She was tenderly grateful to him. She tried 
 to tell him how much he had taught her how much his 
 love had brought into her life. So they said good-bye 
 there on the shore of the lake. 
 
 The next day a second chapter in Joan's life was 
 closed and she turned her face to the great shining East, 
 to the City of Adventure.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 MISS EARL looked up from the letter she was 
 reading and laughed. 
 "That poor Mr. Farwell," she said to her 
 assistant, "he is reduced to such a state of humility. In 
 every letter he shears off a few more requirements." 
 
 "I should like to know what was the matter with that 
 Mrs. Blake we sent out there. A very competent wo- 
 man, to my mind." 
 
 "Competent was not one of his demands," smiled 
 Miss Earl. "He says his nephew threatened to leave 
 home, if she came." 
 
 "A wife is what that man needs!" 
 
 "Then he would have to put up with her, teeth and 
 all!" nodded Miss Earl. 
 
 The assistant glanced at her quickly. Her chief did 
 say puzzling things. What had teeth to do with the 
 case? 
 
 "We'll never fill it," she said conclusively. 
 
 The telephone buzzed and Miss Joan Babcock was 
 announced. 
 
 "According to the haphazard ways of the gods, this 
 ought to be the girl," she remarked, as the assistant 
 rose to go. 
 
 The door opened and Joan came in, hesitating a sec- 
 ond at the threshold to measure the situation and the 
 woman she was to meet. 
 
 They took swift inventory of each other. Miss 
 Earl saw what she later described as "a thrilling per- 
 
 29
 
 30 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 son." New York had done something for Joan. 
 Whiting would never have known her. This adventur- 
 ing in the metropolis had keyed her up to a high pitch. 
 The dazzle had gone to her head. She had walked on 
 air every minute since her arrival. Her whole per- 
 sonality responded she exuded vitality and enthusi- 
 asm. 
 
 "Good morning, Miss Babcock " 
 
 "How do you do?" said the girl, advancing with her 
 hand out, in frank interest. 
 
 Miss Earl took it and felt a shock. She indicated a 
 chair and Joan sat down. 
 
 "What a pleasant, sunny place!" she remarked, look- 
 ing about her, and at the flowers on Miss Earl's desk. 
 
 "Yes I like this room " 
 
 "I like everything in New York!" exclaimed the girl. 
 "It's a thrilling place. I want to live here work here, 
 right in the midst of things. Doesn't New York excite 
 you, Miss Earl?" 
 
 "It is stimulating," the head of the bureau admitted. 
 
 "I want to get a job and stay forever!" 
 
 "What kind of a job?" smiled Miss Earl. 
 
 "I'll take what I can get, to begin with. I want to 
 make a living while I look around and get my bearings. 
 I feel a little well drunk is the word, I think. Do 
 you understand?" she asked seriously and Miss Earl 
 nodded just as if it was an every-day occurrence for 
 applicants to announce that they were drunk with liv- 
 ing. 
 
 "Tell me about your training, and what you want 
 to do." 
 
 Miss Earl was enjoying herself and Joan felt her 
 understanding. She told her the whole story, Whiting, 
 the University and all, briefly, but vividly.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 31 
 
 "I want to do something for the people who work 
 with their hands the ones who haven't had a chance 
 for education. I want to teach the women of the 
 poor how to keep their houses, food values system in 
 spending the family income I don't know just what I 
 can do yet, but that's what I'm trained for. I want 
 them to use my education. Is that all pretty vague?'* 
 
 "No I get your idea, but it may be a trifle difficult 
 to find just what you want. You specialized in social 
 science, and took some courses in domestic science. 
 Have you any money to fall back on for the present?" 
 
 "Not a sou ! I've got to get something right away 
 because expenses stop with this convention and the 
 money for my ticket back to Chicago has to be returned 
 to the University Chapter. So I'm awfully on your 
 hands." 
 
 Miss Earl considered for a moment. 
 
 "There is an opening in one of the Women's col- 
 leges for a woman to run and manage the commons 
 where the students eat. Would that interest you ?" 
 
 "As I tell you, I'm prepared to be humble, but I am 
 so tired of the college atmosphere. I have had four 
 years of nothing else, and I would like to put my nose 
 into something new." 
 
 Miss Earl went to the filing cabinet and came back 
 with a drawer of cards, which she began to run over 
 carefully and deftly. 
 
 "House mother in an orphanage? No, I'm afraid 
 you are too young for that." 
 
 "I think I could be quite a popular mother," Joan 
 said earnestly, at which Miss Earl smiled. The head 
 of the Bureau was thinking to herself, "I wish I could 
 engage her to sit in this office by the week ! She makes 
 me feel so young and confident!"
 
 32 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 The cards piled higher and higher, face down and 
 even. 
 
 "Can't I be any of those things?" 
 
 "Don't be discouraged, there are several other draw- 
 ers," replied Miss Earl. 
 
 "I suppose I ought to go right straight to some fac- 
 tory town and study my own job, but I just would like 
 to have a little fling. Does that sound silly to you?" 
 
 Miss Earl shook her head, her grave eyes lifted to 
 the girl's shining face. 
 
 "You see I've always worked so hard. First I had 
 to give every minute, every thought to getting in the 
 University. I worked in that store all day and studied 
 until midnight or later. Then I had not been as well 
 prepared as the others, so I had to bone extra hard to 
 keep up with my classes. Beside that, I was earning 
 every cent I had 
 
 "How did you earn money?" 
 
 "I waited on table, and washed dishes in a cheap 
 student boarding house for my food. I slept in a kind 
 of a closet for which I paid a dollar a month. Then I 
 helped the janitress clean the gym, and I sang in the 
 choir. My second year I did clerical work in the 
 Dean's office. Oh, I managed, but it wasn't much 
 fun." 
 
 Miss Earl nodded thoughtfully. 
 
 "You see, that's why it is so wonderful here. Every- 
 body is so leisurely and comfortable and happy. You 
 feel as if you could do anything be president of a 
 bank, or something! That's a fine way for an assist- 
 ant janitress to feel!" she ended with a laugh. 
 
 "Pity there isn't a single demand for a bank presi- 
 dent," smiled Miss Earl. 
 
 "You must think I'm a crazy sort of creature, taking
 
 THE THRESHOLD 33 
 
 up your time with all this nonsense about myself. Do 
 many women come in and talk such foolishness?" 
 
 "I get a good deal of foolishness, but painfully little 
 nonsense," replied Miss Earl with a nice sense of dis- 
 tinction. 
 
 Joan's appreciation flashed back in a quick "Oh, 
 you are nice!" 
 
 Miss Earl's fingers paused on a card. A queer ex- 
 pression crossed her face. She looked at the girl be- 
 fore her in a puzzled way. Young, vibrant, modern. 
 Beside her stood Miss Earl's vision, tall, mature, ele- 
 gant. Nothing could be farther apart than these two 
 women, and yet, how interesting it would be to play dea 
 ex machina to two such individuals as Gregory Farwell 
 and Joan Babcock. 
 
 "You are wondering if I would do for a certain 
 sort of position, and you are about to decide that I 
 would not," Joan remarked. 
 
 "You did not tell me that mind reading was one of 
 your accomplishments." 
 
 "I think I am adaptable. I could turn my hand to 
 anything, if it interested me. Did I tell you that ?" 
 
 "I have on file a most unusual demand. It is not 
 related to any of these positions we have spoken about, 
 and I think you have n real preparation for the tech- 
 nical part of it. Besides, it would take you out of New 
 York city, into a small industrial town nearby No, 
 I think you would better not consider it." 
 
 "Industrial town? Tell me about it. I'm game for 
 anything." 
 
 Miss Earl produced the card of Mr. Farwell's re- 
 quirements and read them over slowly and precisely. 
 Joan's laughter flooded the room like sunlight it rose 
 and fell in infectious floods and Miss Earl joined in.
 
 34 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "Isn't it funny? It's so so man!" Joan said 
 finally. 
 
 "He thought he was being so reasonable," Miss Earl 
 assured her. "He has written again and again. As 
 you say he's awfully on my hands." 
 
 "But I would adore to try itl It sounds like a plot 
 for a comedy. But I'd never do I couldn't run a 
 house to suit that man. I'd probably organize the 
 servants into a union I haven't a leaning towards 
 literature and the fine arts the only thing I could do 
 would be to play with the boy." 
 
 "Of course you aren't a widow and you're not as 
 plain as I'd like you to be " began Miss Earl. "But 
 you have had a course in domestic science." Joan was 
 off again with her upsetting mirth. "Will you see him 
 and talk to him?" 
 
 "Gladly only won't it be a waste of your time?" 
 
 "Not if you have the meeting here in my office," re- 
 sponded Miss Earl, her eyes dancing. 
 
 "Done!" cried Joan. "When shall it be?" 
 
 "I'll wire him to come at eleven tomorrow. Shall 
 I?" 
 
 "I'll be here. I'm to tell him the truth about my 
 shortcomings?" 
 
 "Don't boast about them. If he asks you tell the 
 truth," counselled the descendant of a long line of 
 Puritans. 
 
 Joan laughed, shook hands and swung out the door, 
 whereupon Miss Earl sighed deeply, as if suddenly let 
 down. She dictated a telegram to Mr. Farwell and 
 tried to take her mind off of this most interesting 
 case. 
 
 Promptly at eleven, the next day, Mr. Farwell was
 
 THE THRESHOLD 35 
 
 announced. He was followed by a very handsome 
 blond boy. 
 
 "My nephew, Dick Dick Norton, Miss Earl. He 
 insisted upon coming with me " 
 
 Dick blushed and bowed. 
 
 "I have to live with her, too, you know. I got 
 awfully fed up on Miss Arethusa," he remarked. 
 
 "Will you sit down," began Ruth. "I do hope I 
 haven't brought you in on a false alarm, but your last 
 letter was so urgent " 
 
 "Our need is great, Miss Earl. The house is de- 
 moralized needs a mistress." 
 
 "This young woman I have asked you to meet has 
 only a few of the qualities that you indicated in our first 
 interview " 
 
 "I've come to see, by the ones you have sent us, that 
 I cannot hope for those those " 
 
 "Is she old?" asked the boy. 
 
 "No that's one trouble " 
 
 "Is she plain?" he went on. 
 
 "Not as plain as she might be " 
 
 "That's all right. The others you sent us were 
 blighters," he remarked. 
 
 Miss Earl restrained a smile and addressed herself 
 to Mr. Farwell. 
 
 "Miss Babcock is a college graduate of keen intelli- 
 gence. She is not experienced in managing a house 
 but has had some training in domestic science and I have 
 a feeling that she can do anything she sets her mind 
 upon doing. You spoke of creating an atmosphere 
 She can certainly do that " 
 
 The telephone buzzed and she asked the office to 
 send Miss Babcock in. The two men watched the
 
 36 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 door with interest as intent as if it were a matter of life 
 and death as to what type of female entered there. 
 
 Joan stood a second, sweeping them with a grave 
 glance then she advanced as they both rose. 
 
 "Good morning, Miss Babcock. May I present Mr. 
 Farwell to you and his nephew, Mr. Richard Norton?" 
 
 The two men bowed and they all seated themselves 
 in solemn silence. 
 
 "I have been explaining to Mr. Farwell that while 
 you have not all the qualifications he hoped to find, that 
 I thought you might answer his needs," began Miss 
 Earl professionally. 
 
 Mr. Farwell was at a loss. He was unprepared for 
 Joan she took his breath a little. 
 
 "Do you go in for sports?" asked Dick, breaking the 
 ice for all of them. 
 
 "Rather," laughed Joan. 
 
 "Would you could you Miss Earl has explained 
 to you that we live in the country, as you might say?" 
 Mr. Farwell stammered. 
 
 "Yes. She let me see the card with your require- 
 ments on it. It might expedite matters if I said that I 
 don't answer any of them. But I'm of average intelli- 
 gence, so I might learn to keep the housekeeper in 
 order." 
 
 Dick burst into a guffaw. 
 
 "In order? You ought to see her old Craddock's 
 first name is order!" 
 
 "Quiet, Dick don't interrupt Miss Babcock " 
 
 "There's no use my bluffing about it. I want a job 
 most awfully. I've got a good disposition, and some 
 sense. If sprightly conversation at the table is neces- 
 sary, I could qualify there. But unless you happen to 
 like me, I couldn't be a bit of use to you."
 
 THE THRESHOLD 37 
 
 "Take her, Uncle Greg I vote for her." 
 
 " I hadn't expected quite so young a woman " be- 
 gan Mr. Farwell. "It isn't very gay in Farwell, I'm 
 afraid." 
 
 "Oh I amuse myself," said Joan. 
 
 "We might perhaps try the experiment for a month 
 the arrangement to be terminated on the close of that 
 period, by mutual consent?" 
 
 "All right." 
 
 "The salary would be ?" 
 
 "One hundred dollars a month," said Miss Earl 
 quietly. 
 
 "Perfectly satisfactory. Could you come at once, 
 Miss Babcock?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Come on the 2.10 with us, will you?" asked Dick. 
 
 "Ye-es, I can even do that," agreed Joan. 
 
 "Excellent. If you will meet us, then, at the station 
 at 2 o'clock, we will all go out together" said Mr. 
 Farwell, rising. "We are greatly indebted to you, 
 Miss Earl," he added. 
 
 "Not at all I hope the arrangement will work out 
 nicely." 
 
 "Oh one thing!" exclaimed Joan "I forgot to say 
 about my opinions they're not a bit reactionary." 
 
 "H-m!" said Mr. Farwell. 
 
 "Hang her opinions ! Uncle Greg, why can't we 
 take her to lunch?" demanded Dick. 
 
 They all laughed even Mr. Farwell. The two 
 men withdrew and Joan faced Ruth Earl with laughing 
 eyes. 
 
 "Bless you forever! I'm off on this wonderful ad- 
 venture. Wasn't it a ripping prologue?" she cried and 
 hurried off to pack.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE first incident in Joan's new situation was 
 that she missed the train. The street car was 
 held up by a blockade and although she got off 
 and ran the rest of the way, the clock pointed relent- 
 lessly to 2.23 as she dashed into the station. The 
 information clerk told her the next train left at 4.30. 
 She went over to the telegraph station and sent a wire 
 to Mr. Farwell, telling him the time of her arrival, 
 then she telephoned Miss Earl. 
 
 "What will you think of me? I've missed the 
 train!" 
 
 "That's too bad ! When is the next one ?" came the 
 calm voice. 
 
 Joan explained the situation and reported on what 
 she had done to remedy things. 
 
 "That's all right. Take the 4.30 and let me hear 
 how things go." 
 
 "Rather. I'm glad you aren't too disgusted with 
 me." 
 
 She heard Miss Earl chuckle. 
 
 "Good luck," was all the head of the Bureau said as 
 she hung up the receiver. 
 
 In the meantime, Mr. Farwell had dragged the re- 
 luctant Dick on to the 2.10 train. The youngster was 
 determined to wait for the 4.30. 
 
 "She's probably missed the train " began his uncle. 
 
 "She's probably changed her mind!" interrupted the 
 
 38
 
 THE THRESHOLD 39 
 
 boy. "Why would a peach like that want to live with 
 an old codger like you and a young cub like me? I 
 knew she was too good to happen !" 
 
 "Dick, you must not let your enthusiasm run away 
 with you. Miss Babcock is no doubt a very nice young 
 woman, but she comes into our house in a business 
 capacity as you might say." 
 
 "I don't care what capacity she conies in, if she'll 
 only come." 
 
 "I think you should not refer to her as a 'peach.' ' 
 
 Dick laughed and the subject was closed. When 
 they arrived at the house, Mr. Farwell ordered the 
 car to meet the 4.30 train. But when Joan descended 
 at the station, it never occurred to her to see if any one 
 were there to meet her. She hurried off to find a man 
 to take charge of her little old steamer trunk. The 
 village expressman agreed to deliver it at once and 
 he obligingly gave Joan the directions she asked for. 
 
 "Jump up on the seat with me, if ye want to ride up," 
 said the man. "It's a fair long walk." 
 
 "All right, thanks," Joan replied and "jumped up." 
 
 It took some little time for the leisurely villager to 
 get the trunk onto the wagon and himself onto the seat 
 beside Joan, but it was eventually accomplished. The 
 old horse clattered off and they bumped through an 
 ugly industrial town of the well established American 
 pattern. The buildings all had a cheap, temporary 
 look. The streets were badly kept. Out at the edge 
 of the town proper, the factories clustered, and about 
 them the cottages of the workers. They were old and 
 in poor condition, Joan noted. There were no signs of 
 an intelligent overseer, or of modern methods. 
 
 "Who owns these factories?" she inquired. 
 
 "I dunno's I can jest say. Mr. Farwell is the head
 
 40 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 of 'em, they say, but they go to Mister Dick when he's 
 of age." 
 
 "Mr. Farwell? The Mr. Farwell where I'm 
 going?" demanded Joan. 
 
 "Yep. He inherited 'em from his folks. Ye see, 
 the town was named fer 'em." 
 
 "But does he let the town look like this all run 
 down and shabby?" 
 
 The man stared. 
 
 "I guess he ain't much interested in how the town 
 looks. He don't live in it. He hardly ever goes 
 through it, jest dashes to the station in his autymobeel." 
 
 "But he ought to look at it!" exclaimed Joan. 
 
 "Mcbbc so." 
 
 "Are the people in the works satisfied?" 
 
 "Not's I know." 
 
 "Why don't they demand something else?" 
 
 "Ain't ben no trouble fer a long time. Last time, 
 the Company went to Noo York and come back with a 
 hundred or so men, an' shut out the kickers, so they 
 didn't do no good jest lost their jobs." 
 
 Joan made no reply. They were outside of the 
 town now, in fresh, green country, with its early sum- 
 mer freshness. The road was fine the driver ex- 
 plained that the Farwells had the road built for their 
 motor cars, and that they kept it in order, without ex- 
 pense to the county. Rolling hills and woods were on 
 each side a country of gentle, soothing quality. The 
 ugly little town back there was like a sore on the earth's 
 beautiful breast. 
 
 "This is the beginning of the Farwell place," the 
 old man remarked. "Got about five hundred acres in 
 all. Deers and wild things in some of it." 
 
 They began to wind through a park. Trees, hun-
 
 THE THRESHOLD 41 
 
 dreds of years old; pools, lily lined, hedges and gardens 
 passed by them, and then at last the house appeared, 
 atop of a high knoll. It was Colonial and wide- 
 winged. There were terraces before it, with great 
 plateaux of gardens. 
 
 "So that's it," said Joan breathlessly. And then to 
 the old man's astonishment, she began to laugh. 
 
 "What's the joke?" 
 
 But before she could answer, Dick on a horse, 
 plunged out of a side path and at sight of her, lifted a 
 shout 
 
 "Miss Babcock! For Heaven's sake, didn't Jer- 
 gens meet you?" 
 
 "Nobody met me I didn't need to be met I found 
 a friend here who brought me out " 
 
 "Hello, Jake" grinned Dick. "Running a pas- 
 senger bus now, are you?" 
 
 The driver nodded and chuckled. 
 
 "I thought you'd given us the slip," cried the boy. 
 
 "No I merely lost the train " she smiled. 
 
 "We sent the motor after you " 
 
 "I didn't even look for it. I never thought of it I 
 liked this better anyhow. Mr. Jake told me about the 
 town and all " 
 
 "Lots to tell about that old clutter of huts," laughed 
 the boy. 
 
 But Joan couldn't bring herself to smile. 
 
 "Mebbe you could 'light here, Miss, because I ain't 
 allowed to go up to the front door " 
 
 "Yes, you are, this time, Jake. Come on." 
 
 The boy walked his horse beside them, bending to 
 point out spots of interest to Joan. It was this queer 
 cavalcade that greeted the eyes of Mr. Farwell, as he 
 stepped out on the terrace Joan up beside Jake, the
 
 42 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 old horse coming slowly, snatching at grass or bushes in 
 the hope of a bite, the boy bareheaded and handsome, 
 riding beside her. As they came up to the porte co- 
 ch&re, he went to meet them. 
 
 "My dear Miss Babcock!" he protested, "what a 
 way to welcome you to Farwelll Didn't Jergens find 
 you?" 
 
 "It was my fault, Mr. Farwell I didn't look for 
 him. I didn't know whether you had reached here or 
 not. It was so stupid of me to have missed the train." 
 
 He helped her to alight, nodding to Jake. 
 
 "I'm so much obliged to you," the girl said to the 
 driver, offering him a bill. 
 
 "That's all right, we have a bill with Jake," the 
 boy objected. 
 
 "I prefer to settle my own, thanks," replied Joan. 
 
 Jake touched his hat brim and rattled off. 
 
 "Mrs. Craddock will take you to your room, Miss 
 Babcock. I am having tea out here on the terrace. 
 Won't you join us, in fifteen minutes or so?" 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 Mrs. Craddock appeared, a set, elderly woman. 
 Joan felt her antagonism, as Mr. Farwell performed 
 an introduction. She followed her into the great open 
 hall, and up the wide stairway to a suite of rooms at 
 the end of the second floor hall. 
 
 "These are the rooms Mr. Farwell ordered for you, 
 Miss Babcock," said the housekeeper. 
 
 "Thank you. These will do very nicely," said Joan, 
 judiciously, on an impulse. 
 
 "Miss Arethusa was on the upper floor," Mrs. Crad- 
 dock remarked meaningly. 
 
 "Ah?" responded Joan. "I prefer this floor. 
 Thank you, Mrs. Craddock."
 
 THE THRESHOLD 43 
 
 Mrs. Craddock withdrew and Joan closed the door. 
 Then she flew about upon a tour of inspection. The 
 room she was in was evidently a sitting-room. A 
 writing desk well filled book-cases an open fireplace 
 flowers everywhere. Beyond, a delightful bedroom, 
 looking out over gardens and into trees. A heavy, de- 
 licious perfume that comes with early evening, floated 
 up to her. Here were wicker and chintz and all the 
 luxurious appurtenances so dear to every woman's 
 heart. Out of this room opened her bathroom, per- 
 fect in its appointments. 
 
 Joan drew a deep breath of enjoyment, and went to 
 the mirror and leaned toward herself. 
 
 "Joan Babcock!" she exclaimed, as if in surprised 
 recognition. Then she laughed. She was excited. 
 She had never even dreamed of such a fairyland as she 
 found herself in. 
 
 She suddenly remembered the tea. She took off her 
 coat and tossed her hat on the bed. It disclosed a 
 cropped curly head, like a Greek boy's. She ran a 
 comb through it dashed some water on her face 
 brushed her skirt and hurried down to the terrace. 
 She delivered a shock to the two men who waited for 
 her there. Naturally they had not seen her without her 
 hat. As this slim boyish figure came swiftly across the 
 terrace toward them, they each smothered an exclama- 
 tion Mr. Farwell of consternation, Dick of delight. 
 
 "I hope I haven't kept you waiting," she began 
 gaily "What's the matter?" 
 
 "You I beg your pardon you look so different 
 without your hat," apologized her host. 
 
 "Oh it's my hair. You see, I wear it this way be- 
 cause it's so easy. I can duck it into a bowl of water 
 every day and never think of it again."
 
 44 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "It's ripping!" burst out Dick, and Joan blushed. 
 
 "What air what an evening and what a castle of 
 enchantment!" she breathed, as she took the chair Mr. 
 Farwell held for her. 
 
 "You like it?" he said. 
 
 A servant placed a tray before her, loaded with mys- 
 terious paraphernalia, which she realized she was ex- 
 pected to manipulate. She had a moment of cold ter- 
 ror. They never would keep her on, if she couldn't 
 even pour their tea properly. 
 
 ; "Shall I fill the teapot, Madam? The faucet of 
 the samovar gets very hot," said the butler. 
 
 "Yes, please," assented Joan, with a sigh of relief. 
 
 After that she managed very well, with the butler 
 remedying oversights. She took notes during the or- 
 deal. When the butler left them, they chatted easily 
 and without effort. Twilight is a relaxed hour of the 
 day. Joan made them laugh over her efforts to catch 
 the train. Dick went off and brought out some pup- 
 pies to show her and all three of them were amused at 
 their youthful antics. 
 
 When they rose to go into the house, Dick spoke 
 impulsively. 
 
 "Oh, Miss Babcock, do like us well enough to stay 
 for ever!" 
 
 "You may not like me well enough to want me to 
 stay that long " laughed Joan. 
 
 "Yes, we will, won't we, Uncle Greg?" 
 
 "We want her to stay as long as we can make her 
 contented," responded the older man politely. Joan 
 nodded at him, smiling. How entirely he was the last 
 expression of the wealth and leisure that had created 
 this estate. Fie had every patrician quality of body 
 he was handsome and suave and delightful. It seemed
 
 THE THRESHOLD 45 
 
 for one sunset-flooded, misleading moment that it was 
 worth the toiling and moiling of the mass in the vil- 
 lage, to produce this beautiful aristocrat this final 
 ^flower of civilization, that grew out of the muck. 
 
 Her mind shot back to Whiting and her people. She 
 must be true to her purpose. What place had she here, 
 with the enemy? Must it be always the enemy? Was 
 there no compromise? Did she come as spy, to learn 
 their secrets, or did she come as missionary, to show 
 them the light? She shook herself free of her 
 thoughts. 
 
 "You are chilled we kept you out there too long," 
 said Mr. Farwell. 
 
 "I'm not cold. It was a ghost walking over my 
 grave," she replied. 
 
 "We don't allow ghosts at Farwell Hall," he 
 gravely assured her.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 JOAN stirred, stretched herself, opened her eyes. 
 A bird was singing joyously outside her open 
 window. She sprang out of bed and sent the 
 blind shooting up a sunny, garden world lay beneath 
 her and beyond, the hills. 
 
 "Um-um-um !" she breathed it in, exultingly. A 
 glance at her watch showed her that she had much 
 time before breakfast, which occurred at nine in this 
 leisurely house. She put on a bathrobe and sat down 
 by the window to think out the problems of the day. 
 
 She must take up the reins of government before 
 the sun set but how? Should she throw herself upon 
 the human sympathies of the corps of servants and ask 
 them to help her run the house, or should she adopt the 
 haughty tone she had been moved to assume with Mrs. 
 Craddock and never, on any account, admit less than 
 an omniscient knowledge of how to conduct a mansion 
 of this size. Her simple democratic soul yearned for 
 the former plan her intelligence backed up her intui- 
 tions, in telling her it would never work out. They 
 might like her, but they would not respect her, because 
 they would question her authority. No she, the born 
 rebel against the authority of mere position, was enter- 
 ing upon a career as autocrat. If only the intricate 
 machinery of living did not overpower her. She found 
 that she was instinctively impressed by the men serv- 
 ants who had served the dinner the night before. She 
 must get over that. She must remember that they were 
 
 46
 
 THE THRESHOLD 47 
 
 of much less importance than the men who served the 
 furnaces in Whiting. These servants were a part of 
 a parasitic system that must go she had heard that 
 reached all her life. The fact that the velvet-footed, 
 
 .feet service of that meal was an event in her life, 
 aist not affect her judgment. Her mind went round 
 and round. 
 
 "Now, look here," she said to herself finally, "you 
 are here temporarily as a part of a system you condemn. 
 You are here to serve that system, not to demolish it. 
 Now, you must either put your radical principles to 
 sleep for awhile and give yourself wholly to this experi- 
 ment or you must go back to New York today " 
 
 "Of course it's only temporary but why can't I 
 make it count? If I'm to fight the Capitalist, why can't 
 I study his habits of mind? I can't do anything with 
 Mr. Farwell but can't I make young Dick see his re- 
 sponsibilities? I mustn't be a sneak or a spy or a cow- 
 ard. If I'm challenged, I must confess. But in the 
 meantime, am I ready to give my convictions a vaca- 
 tion?" 
 
 A pink rose fell into her lap. She started and looked 
 out. Dick was in the garden, smiling up. 
 
 "I say come on down it's a great day," he called. 
 
 "All right in a minute," she answered. She knew 
 that she had made her decision. She was in for it, for 
 a month anyhow. She knew she could make Mr. Far- 
 well comfortable, if she set her mind to it. She turned 
 on her bath and sang, because she was glad. 
 
 When she was dressed she mastered the set of tele- 
 phone bells that connected with all departments of the 
 house. She rang for the housekeeper. She had never 
 rung a bell to summon another human being in her life 
 and she marvelled that she was not ashamed to do it.
 
 48 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 When Mrs. Craddock responded she told her that she 
 wished to make a tour of inspection of the house imme- 
 diately after breakfast. Then she ran downstairs and 
 into the garden where Dick impatiently waited. -H^fe* 
 
 "Thought you never were coming!" he complainecjJ 
 
 "Twenty minutes by the clock," she retorted. "Oh, 
 thanks," as he offered a cluster of June roses, dew- 
 washed. She stuck them into her belt. 
 
 "Did you sleep?" 
 
 "Like a top." 
 
 "It's bully to have you around." 
 
 "It's bully to be here." 
 
 "I've got a horse for you." 
 
 "But I don't ride." 
 
 "What? Why not?" 
 
 "Never had a chance to learn or money to buy 
 things to ride on." 
 
 "My word I thought everybody rode. Well I'll 
 teach you. We'll begin after breakfast." 
 
 "Sorry I begin my job after breakfast." 
 
 "What job?" 
 
 "Running the house." 
 
 "Don't you bother let old Craddock do it. I'll 
 keep you busy." 
 
 "I'm not engaged to play with you." 
 
 "Yes, you are. Uncle Greg won't expect you to do 
 much." 
 
 "Then I'll surprise him." 
 
 "Do you like to work?" incredulously. 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "You're a queer one!" 
 
 "Don't you like to work?" 
 
 "Nope hate it." 
 
 "You're a poor one !" she retorted.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 49 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because loafers and shirkers are no good." 
 
 "Here I don't like those words," he flared up. 
 
 "The things they mean are even less likeable," she 
 answered easily. "Let's go see the puppies." 
 
 "Good idea," he acquiesced, and led the way. 
 
 Half an hour later they joined Mr. Farwell in the 
 breakfast room. "How charming and young they 
 are !" he thought as he greeted them. Joan looked the 
 boy's age. It was a most disconcerting situation he 
 had got himself into, importing this odd and unde- 
 niably attractive young woman into their midst. Of 
 course she wouldn't do but he hoped the month would 
 pass without landing Dick head over heels in love 
 with her. 
 
 When they were seated at breakfast, Dick brought 
 up the matter of Joan's duties again. 
 
 "Look here, Uncle Greg, I want to teach Miss Bab- 
 cock to ride, and I offered to begin after breakfast and 
 she says she has to begin her job then. She ought to 
 have a rest before she starts anything." 
 
 "I didn't come here for a rest. I'm a self-support- 
 ing woman with work to do," smiled Joan. 
 
 "There's no hurry about anything here, Miss Bab- 
 cock," Mr. Farwell remarked. "If the boy wants " 
 
 "Please the boy must wait. I shall give my entire 
 attention to my new duties today," she said decidedly. 
 
 "As you like," he said, but Dick gloomed. 
 
 At ten she braced herself and summoned Mrs. Crad- 
 dock. 
 
 "Good morning again, Mrs. Craddock. I thought 
 the best way for me to begin, was to ask you to take 
 me over the entire house and let me get acquainted 
 with the place and with the servants."
 
 50 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 Mrs. Craddock nodded, and led the way. 
 
 "Have you been here long?" Joan proceeded, un- 
 daunted. 
 
 "Since Mr. Dick was a baby." 
 
 "Is that so? Have most of the people in the house 
 been here that long?" 
 
 "No only Annie, the cook. Servants ain't what 
 they used to be. They've got a lot of notions in their 
 heads, is what I say." 
 
 "Well, notions in the head help the world grow, 
 Mrs. Craddock," was Joan's unfortunate answer, for 
 Mrs. Craddock later repeated it to the cook, with the 
 bitter comment, "I bet she's a Socialist, or one of them 
 things " But cook didn't agree, because Joan had 
 made a fine impression on her. 
 
 "What a wonderful kitchen !" she had exclaimed on 
 entrance to that domain. "No wonder you make such 
 delicious things to eat, Annie." 
 
 "Glad you think so, Mum." 
 
 Annie initiated Joan into a world of wonders. A 
 kitchen heretofore had meant a small dark place of 
 pots and pans. This was a huge, sunny laboratory, 
 equipped with elaborate apparatus, with several as- 
 sistants to work at the experiments, as Joan phrased 
 it to herself. She commented intelligently on all of 
 it and managed not to show surprise. 
 
 Dick sauntered into the kitchen, during her interview 
 there. 
 
 "Hello calling on Annie? Isn't her kitchen a 
 wonder? You could eat off the floor any minute." 
 
 "Oh, now, Mister Dick," protested Annie, red with 
 pleasure. 
 
 "Beats any kitchen in New York, I tell her." 
 
 "It certainly is a fine kitchen," Joan agreed.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 51 
 
 "Sometime when we're alone, I'll tell you how it 
 is with Annie's cooking. Uncle Greg and I have to 
 go to New York every once in a while to get plain 
 food." 
 
 "Oh, Mister Dick," Annie begged. "Ye know, 
 Ma'am, Mrs. Craddock an' me has been here since 
 Mister Dick come, as a little fella, so we don't pay 
 no attention to his talk." 
 
 "Don't you, now?" he cried in mock fury. "Well, 
 you and Craddock begin to pay attention to me, or I'll 
 get Miss Babcock to fire you." 
 
 Joan smiled at his nonsense, which delighted the 
 other two women. 
 
 "When are you going to be through here ? I've got 
 something to show you," he said to Joan. 
 
 "I'll be busy all morning, I'm afraid. But don't 
 wait for me." 
 
 "Oh, I've got nothing to do. I'll stick round and 
 see the show. I haven't been over the plant since I 
 was a kiddy, tagging Craddock, and carrying her keys." 
 
 "Oh, do run along. You'll be horribly in our way. 
 Won't he, Mrs. Craddock?" 
 
 "He won't be in my way. He can come, an' wel- 
 come, so far as I'm concerned," replied that person 
 tartly, glad of a chance for opposition. 
 
 "You see, I have one friend," he boasted. 
 
 "Stay here an' talk to me, Mr. Dick. You ain't in- 
 terested in Mrs. Craddock's linen closets, an' I got a 
 chocolate cake in the oven, about due to come out." 
 
 "Ha, I take you, Annie. Ladies, these impassioned 
 bids for my society are flattering to a timid youth, but 
 Annie, with the chocolate cake wins, in a walk." 
 
 "Thank you, Annie," said Joan. 
 
 "I may join you later." he retorted
 
 52 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "I only receive visitors after business hours," said 
 Joan coolly. 
 
 "I wish you would train me in as a clerk," he re- 
 marked. "There's nothing to do round here." 
 
 "Cheer up, I'll get to you later. We'll find some- 
 thing to keep you out of mischief. Annie, I certainly 
 have no criticisms or suggestions to make on your de- 
 partment," Joan said. She nodded to Craddock to 
 lead the way, and the two inspectors went on. 
 
 The cook was flattered. She even refused to join in 
 Mrs. Craddock's scornful "Settin' up a child like that 
 on me! Did you see her hair?" 
 
 "I thought her hair was real cute," defended the 
 cook. 
 
 It took the entire morning to go over the depart- 
 ments laundry, kitchen, storerooms, bedrooms, linen 
 closets and all. Joan was interested every minute, 
 as well as impressed with the fact that it took an actual 
 factory force to run this great establishment for the 
 housing and feeding of two men. It was a revelation 
 to her. 
 
 Everywhere she tried to show an intelligent interest 
 in the work of various servants, and to say a word of 
 appreciation. 
 
 In the afternoon she asked Mrs. Craddock to go 
 over the expenditures in the various departments 
 showing her the account books for the last six months. 
 She found them incomplete and inaccurate. Mrs. 
 Craddock said Miss Arethusa had no head for figures. 
 
 "But doesn't Mr. Farwell ask to see the accounts?" 
 
 "No. He don't care. He's free-handed so long as 
 he's pleased." 
 
 "But that is bad business. I'll have a talk with him 
 about that," Joan remarked.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 53 
 
 "Coin' to teach us old ones, who has been here fif- 
 teen year how to run a house!" scoffed Craddock to 
 the cook later. 
 
 "Mebbe she can I hear they're learnin' the young 
 'uns lots of things these days," replied that functionary. 
 
 At four thirty Joan went in search of Mr. Farwell 
 and found him reading in the sun porch. 
 
 "Well, you have had a busy day!" he exclaimed, ris- 
 ing to meet her. 
 
 "And an interesting one," she added. 
 
 "How did you find my demesne?" 
 
 "Wonderfully well run but extravagantly." 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 "I'm afraid that is true." 
 
 "If I were to stay here for any length of time, I'd 
 introduce a regular office system, of accounts and 
 checks." 
 
 "Would you?" he asked, interested. 
 
 "Why do you let them run it so slackly?" she in- 
 quired. 
 
 "It's easiest not to be too demanding of them." 
 
 She made no reply and he watched her expression. 
 
 "Does that seem too supine to you?" 
 
 "Yes I can't understand lethargy or inertia. 
 
 "I suppose not," he commented, aware of her vi- 
 tality at the moment. 
 
 "I shall make no radical changes until after my 
 month of probation but if I stay on, I warn you." 
 
 "I am warned. Do you think this experiment is 
 going to interest you, Miss Babcock?" he inquired idly. 
 
 "Every experience in life interests me, Mr. Farwell," 
 she answered briskly. 
 
 "You lucky girl!" he exclaimed with a sigh. 
 
 "Lucky? No you can't take anything out, that
 
 54 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 you don't put in I put myself in every minute. You'd 
 have some fun, too, if you tried it," said his strange 
 new employe. 
 
 "I wonder?" remarked Mr. Farwell, aware that she 
 might be planning to revolutionize him, too. He was 
 not sure that he would not enjoy the experiment.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 GREGORY FARWELL had lived on this good 
 green earth for forty-five easeful years. He 
 had come into his fortune at twenty-one, while 
 he was still in college, so that the urge of necessity was 
 a phrase not in his vocabulary. The death of the elder 
 Farwell left his two children, Gregory and Elizabeth, 
 Dick's mother, and Dick himself, the sole heirs of a 
 vast estate. 
 
 Elizabeth, at twenty, married Richard Norton, a 
 handsome ne'er-do-well, a college friend of Gregory's. 
 She had supported him in luxury until his death, which 
 happened on the hunting field while Dick was a baby. 
 The young wife was never comforted for her loss. 
 She grieved herself into melancholia, and when young 
 Dick was eight years old, she took her life, leaving the 
 boy to Gregory. 
 
 As he was in India at the time of this tragedy, he 
 had the child taken to Farwell Hall to be looked after. 
 It was nearly two years later that he put in an appear- 
 ance there, and made the acquaintance of his nephew. 
 He found him a handsome, sturdy lad of ten, fond of 
 sports and out-of-door life. He was no student. He 
 was both spoiled and wayward. In fact, Gregory 
 found himself, for the first time in his life, encumbered 
 with a responsibility. He was fond of the boy, just 
 as he had been fond of his care-free father. He had 
 no very definite ideals about his future, or the kind of 
 training he needed, other than the inherent ideals of
 
 56 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 his class that he should play fair, hit straight in a 
 fight, and have a regard for "the things that are done." 
 
 The seven years that followed were the formative 
 years of the boy's life, and to the Recording Angel it 
 must have seemed that he was learning none of the 
 lessons of self control, and application to a task, which 
 would stand him in stead later. His education was a 
 thing of shreds and patches. A few terms in a school, 
 interrupted by a year of aimless travel, would be fol- 
 lowed by six months with a tutor. Preparation for 
 college was always being delayed for this reason and 
 that. Dick was devoted to his uncle and perfectly 
 satisfied with their way of life. 
 
 Gregory was scarcely the one to acquaint the boy 
 with the thoughts and events of his own time, because 
 Gregory disdained all contact with the times. He 
 deemed them vulgar, commercial and ugly. Since 
 Beauty was the god which he worshipped, just so was 
 Ugliness the devil he fought away from. Not that he 
 ever roused himself to do battle with him, but he es- 
 caped him at every point, when it was possible. If 
 he was actually confronted by the fiend, he looked the 
 other way. 
 
 He was aristocrat in every fibre. The People were 
 as remote as dwellers in Mars. They were a part of 
 the ugliness and stupidity of the world. Business he 
 scorned. He left the administration of his estate and 
 Dick's to men who understood the grimy game. Old 
 Jake was quite right; he never saw the town of Far- 
 well he had not looked at it in years, not since, as a 
 boy, he had noted its hideousness. 
 
 He surrounded himself with exquisite things and 
 luxury. He journeyed to all the beauty spots of the 
 world. He fed his spirit with music, with art, with
 
 THE THRESHOLD 57 
 
 books, like a gourmet like the Count O'Dowda, in 
 Fanny's First Play, his creed was : 
 
 "Out of the soot and fog and mud and east wind; 
 out of vulgarity and ugliness, hypocrisy and greed, su- 
 perstition and stupidity out of all this, and in the 
 sunshine, in the enchanted region of which great artists 
 alone had the secret, in the sacred footsteps of Byron, 
 of Shelley, of the Brownings and of Ruskin." 
 
 He had been too detached from the life about him 
 to make any human ties. He attracted women, partly 
 because of this very aloofness, but no woman had 
 deeply intrigued his interest. They were too much of 
 the times for his taste. His gipsy life precluded inti- 
 mate friends. So impregnable was the wall that this 
 precieux had raised between himself and the time in 
 which he lived, that no suspicion of its robust ideals 
 ever crossed his mind. 
 
 The interruption in the smooth course of his days, 
 caused by the death of Miss Arethusa, affected him as 
 a real crisis. It fretted and irritated him intensely to 
 have to make a change to have to go out and search 
 for a woman to take charge of them and now to ad- 
 just himself to this woman was a serious obligation. 
 
 He felt that Fate had played a trick on him in send- 
 ing him Joan. He could not make out how he had 
 been cajoled into accepting her, even by Dick's insist- 
 ence. He knew the minute that he looked at her that 
 she was a person. He did not want a person he 
 wanted a shadow a well-bred shadow, to flit about 
 unnoticed. Nobody had ever deliberately looked at 
 Miss Arethusa not more than once. But this girl 
 you felt every minute whether she was in your sight 
 or not you felt things moving changing. 
 
 She was a doer, this girl. As such, she menaced the
 
 58 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 whole fabric of his life. He ought to send her off at 
 once, while there was time. He had every excuse. 
 She was too young, she was too vibrant she was al- 
 ready a danger for Dick, who followed her about like 
 an adoring puppy. Besides he, Gregory, had to think 
 about her; she said things and looked things that he 
 remembered he didn't want to think about her why 
 should he? 
 
 In the midst of some such colloquy, she appeared. 
 
 "May I interrupt you a minute?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "Has it occurred to you that Dick would be in about 
 the fifth grade, if he went to public school?" 
 
 "No would he?" 
 
 "It's pitiful that any one should start out so handi- 
 capped, when he could have such an advantage. He 
 will have such terrible responsibilities, and how is he 
 prepared to meet them?" 
 
 "Terrible responsibilities?" he asked, with lifted 
 eyebrows. 
 
 "Isn't he an heir won't he be the head of those fac- 
 tories?" 
 
 "Does that seem to you a 'terrible responsibility'?" 
 
 "Wealth is the greatest responsibility a man can 
 have in these days, isn't it? It means the welfare of 
 so many dependants. It lies in the hands of great cap- 
 italists to hold back the world or to push it bounding 
 forward." 
 
 "Does it? How?" 
 
 There was a hint of amused interest in his tone, that 
 caught her up short. 
 
 "You're making fun of me, I'm afraid, Mr. Far- 
 well. What I wanted to say was this if you like, I 
 will tutor Dick an hour or two a day. I have time,
 
 THE THRESHOLD 59 
 
 and I'm so lately out of college that I can help him, I 
 know." 
 
 "I think that is very delightful of you, Miss Bab- 
 cock, and you might succeed in making Dick work. 
 No one else has. But you must not let our obvious 
 needs absorb you too much." 
 
 "I want to do it. I have not enough to keep me 
 busy." 
 
 "Must you be busy?" he inquired. 
 
 "Certainly. Don't you think special advantages lay 
 upon us especial responsibilities?" 
 
 "May I ask what especial advantages?" 
 
 "Education and health." 
 
 "You think you must pay for these ?" 
 
 "No I must make use of them I must share 
 them. Don't you think that?" she challenged him. 
 
 "No I refuse to accept responsibilities." 
 
 "But you can't choose they descend upon you just 
 as your wealth did upon you as it will upon Dick." 
 
 "Like Fates!" 
 
 "Yes" 
 
 "But you wouldn't stand up against Fate?" 
 
 "Wouldn't I? I have." 
 
 "I'm sure Fate got the worst of it!'* he laughed. 
 "Go after Dick, by all means. I'm almost sorry for 
 him" 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because I feel that willy nilly you'll get some- 
 thing into his head." 
 
 "They may be things that you won't want to have 
 there" 
 
 "Of course, I can't act as censor to what gets into 
 Dick's brain." 
 
 "I just wanted to be fair about it, and call your at-
 
 60 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 tention to the fact that if I should make a man of 
 Dick, I don't want you to blame me for it." 
 
 "Look here what are you plotting for poor Dick?" 
 he demanded. 
 
 "I'm plotting to wake him up to get him interested 
 in life to make him see the world to make him 
 want to do his part." 
 
 "It sounds boring to me." 
 
 "Doesn't everything sound that way?" 
 
 His amused glance rested on her again. 
 
 "How you doers scorn us dreamers 1" 
 
 "Not when you dream outside yourselves. My fa- 
 ther was a dreamer it was because he dreamed that 
 I want to make his dreams come true." 
 
 "What did he dream?" 
 
 "Will you let me go ahead with Dick?" 
 
 "By all means you have my blessing." 
 
 "Would you rather not finish this month of proba- 
 tion?" she asked unexpectedly. 
 
 "What makes you think that?" 
 
 "I know I'm not what you want. I knew it at first, 
 of course, but now that I've been here for a week 
 I'm sure of it." 
 
 "I hope we haven't made you uncomfortable?" 
 
 "No I've made you uncomfortable." 
 
 "On the contrary " 
 
 "I know I'm upsetting," she interrupted. "It is just 
 as if a real person walked into a dream world, where 
 things were faint, and shadowy and fine. Where 
 events moved slowly and nothing made much difference. 
 A live, purposeful human, out of a living world, 
 couldn't help but be irritating to the shades." 
 
 He laughed aloud, at this.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 61 
 
 "Is that how we impress you?" 
 
 "Yes, and that's how I impress you. Please don't 
 say you think I may be good for you." 
 
 "But I don't I think you may be destructive to us," 
 he said gravely. 
 
 "Then I must go, of course." 
 
 "And leave Dick to his ignorance ?" he probed. "By 
 the way, you don't call Dick shadowy?" 
 
 "Dick might follow me out into the world of men " 
 
 "It's safer to keep you in, then." 
 
 "But if I bring the world in with me ?" 
 
 "You won't you can't. I've guarded against that 
 calamity for years." 
 
 "It is your risk then. I'll begin on Dick tomorrow," 
 she said, and left him. 
 
 "Now, why didn't I send that disturbing young 
 woman packing?" he inquired of himself. 
 
 He thought of the long line of tutors who had tried 
 to induce Dick, by artful means, or to drive him by 
 stern commands into the realm of learning. He re- 
 called their various, indignant departures, and smiled. 
 The young woman's confidence in her powers was cer- 
 tainly amusing. Dick appeared at the moment. 
 
 "Have you seen Miss Babcock?" he inquired. 
 
 "How did you happen to let her get out of your 
 sight, Dick?" 
 
 The boy grinned. 
 
 "She's a peach!" he remarked enthusiastically. 
 
 "I thought we agreed that you were not to refer 
 to the lady as a peach." 
 
 "You agreed to it, not me." 
 
 "Don't be fresh. I think I ought to warn you that 
 Miss Babcock is not at all the woman we need here, to
 
 62 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 my thinking, and at the end of the probationary month, 
 she will be going on, so don't get too dependent on the 
 
 lady." 
 
 "Not what we need? Good Lord, what do you 
 want?" the boy burst out. 
 
 "I want an older woman, with more experience, and 
 stability " Mr. Farwell began. 
 
 "Experience and stability! You want some old 
 party, that looks like Miss Arethusa, to fuss round you 
 and hang on your words." 
 
 "Don't be ridiculous!" 
 
 "Just when I'm beginning to have a regular home, 
 for the first time in my life, with a woman around 
 who's got some sense, you go and send her away. I 
 won't stand it! If she goes, I'll go too!" he cried, in 
 high excitement. 
 
 "Where will you go, may I ask?" 
 
 "I'll go off and get a job. I'm not going to stay 
 around this lonesome old tomb, if she goes." 
 
 The boy flung himself out of the room, almost 
 weeping. Mr. Farwell stirred uneasily. 
 
 "I must send her away tomorrow!" he said firmly, 
 to himself.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 GREGORY'S threat to send her away was not 
 carried out. 
 Joan promptly "began on Dick," as she pic- 
 turesquely phrased it. He was a reluctant victim at 
 first, but when she assured him that she could not ac- 
 cept riding lessons from him except in return for some 
 lessons from her, he agreed to the experiment "for a 
 while." After the first few days there was no pro- 
 test, for those hours from eleven to one, spent on the 
 terrace, or in Joan's study, became a pleasure to both 
 of them. 
 
 Dick had a quick mind, stored with all sorts of odd 
 facts and bits of information, as the result of his wan- 
 derings over the globe. He was anxious to do well 
 and show Joan that he was no fool, so he concentrated 
 on the task in hand for the first time, and to his surprise 
 he enjoyed it. 
 
 "Caesar was some little general, wasn't he?" he re- 
 marked one day when they were busy with the Gallic 
 Wars. "I never thought about his being a real fellow 
 before he was so wrapped up in Latin. But you 
 make me get him in spite of those verbs." 
 
 "Nonsense you get him yourself. Of course he's 
 a real fellow. You can't afford to miss him, any more 
 than you can Ulysses in The Odyssey." 
 
 "I wish I'd had you around all the time. I'd have 
 been through college by now." 
 
 63
 
 64 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "Anybody who can work as you can why it's a sin 
 you haven't finished up your college prep, work! 
 Where are you going to college?" 
 
 "Harvard all of our men go there." 
 
 "Pity you can't go to a western university." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "It would be so good for you open your eyes to 
 things you ought to know. You may get an education, 
 but you'll never learn anything about the country you 
 live in and the people who make it what it is, by going 
 to Harvard for four years." 
 
 "Why do I need to know about the country and its 
 people?" he asked her. 
 
 "Because you are going to have great power some 
 day over many people, through your money, and you 
 owe it to them that you know something of them, of 
 their thoughts and needs. You must know what the 
 men of the country are thinking." 
 
 "Uncle Greg doesn't." 
 
 "We're talking about you," she evaded. 
 
 She led him into various studies, psychology, an- 
 thropology, the social sciences. She never announced 
 that they were about to begin a new course, but she 
 led his mind in the desired direction and aroused his 
 interest, by reading and discussion. She thoroughly 
 enjoyed testing her own powers and she flattered her- 
 self she was working out a simple educational system 
 fitted to her pupil, in a way any pedagogue might envy. 
 They worked together for two hours in the morning 
 and Dick pegged away an hour or more by himself in 
 the afternoon or evening. The fact of the matter was 
 that the boy had been bored to death with his own aim- 
 lessness, and part of his enthusiasm came from the satis- 
 faction of having a core to his day.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 65 
 
 "I'm watching your miracle on Dick with interest 
 and some awe, Miss Babcock. How do you do it is 
 it witchcraft?" inquired Gregory. 
 
 "Simplest thing in the world I've got him inter- 
 ested in what he is learning, instead of putting the 
 emphasis on the idea that he is learning something." 
 
 "I see you catch him unawares, as it were, and 
 teach him something. Very indirect and feminine," 
 he remarked. 
 
 "Perhaps, although I don't admit that indirectness is 
 feminine. I prepared myself for college without much 
 direction, so I know all the short cuts and the natural 
 ways to learn things." 
 
 "Very interesting hope it lasts " 
 
 "It will last," she said confidently. "His curiosity 
 is awake now. He's got a good, quick mind. I wish 
 I could send him to the University of Wisconsin " 
 
 "Horrorswhy?" 
 
 "It's so modern and American. It would make a 
 man of him." 
 
 "Can't they make a man of him at Harvard?" 
 
 "They might, but they won't. They'll make an aris- 
 tocrat of him." 
 
 "If I were sensitive I should perhaps defend my 
 kind. Why do you object to us so bitterly?" 
 
 "If you would do instead of just be, I think you 
 could save the world." 
 
 "But why should we save the world?" 
 
 "Because you've had all the gifts, the advantages." 
 
 "I can't follow you in this Puritan idea of responsi- 
 bility," he remarked. "It is foreign to my whole con- 
 cept of endurable living." 
 
 "There is no way we can explain to each other, is 
 there? Why do we discuss it?"
 
 66 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "I enjoy discussion, myself, and you are so fervent 
 about your ideas." 
 
 She left him with the sense she so often had, that he 
 was secretly amused at her. She realized that his 
 mould was set and not to be changed, but Dick's mould 
 was in the making and she had a chance to help shape 
 it. She was getting interested in Dick. 
 
 The riding lessons became a part of the day's rou- 
 tine also. Dick was a very exacting teacher, but he 
 admitted that she "caught on quickly." "The point is 
 to stick on," she retorted. He was determined that she 
 should ride in good form, so he drilled her like a riding 
 master. 
 
 "Dick, you don't encourage me enough. I am lots 
 more lenient with you," she protested. 
 
 "If I do, you get cocky. Got to keep a tight rein 
 on you " 
 
 "I'm going to try it on you," she threatened. 
 
 "Don't need to I stand without hitching." 
 
 Their rides took them all over the great, beautiful 
 estate. They could ride for hours in it, never going 
 out of Farwell grounds. Some of it was very wild, 
 some of it kept like a park. 
 
 "Dick, doesn't it make you wonder why you are to 
 be the owner of this?" Joan asked him one day. 
 
 "No why should I wonder? It comes to me just 
 as it came to Uncle Greg," he replied casually. 
 
 "And what have you either of you done?" 
 
 "Done? You don't have to do things all the time. 
 You're always harping on doing something," he said 
 testily. 
 
 "It's only chance that did it, you know. You might 
 have been a boy down in the factories in Farwell, just 
 as well as not."
 
 THE THRESHOLD 67 
 
 "I suppose you'd have liked me better, if I had 
 been." 
 
 "I don't say that: Depends on the rest of your life 
 as to whether you're as much good as the factory boy." 
 
 "What is it you want me to do?" he demanded. 
 
 "Beat me to the end of this path " she laughed and 
 galloped ahead of him. It was by such methods that 
 she was getting Dick awake. She knew she could 
 never preach him into anything she had to sting him 
 into interest. She was already planning an object les- 
 son in the dirty little town of Farwell. When the 
 time was ripe she would take him on a tour of inspec- 
 tion. 
 
 Joan wrote to Miss Earl about it, in one of the sev- 
 eral letters she had written that lady. 
 
 "It's a very complex job, you've selected for me. 
 The house runs all right at least I'm letting it alone 
 until I see whether I stay on. I doubt if I do. Mr. 
 Farwell objects to me, because I stick out of the pic- 
 ture, I keep waking him up when all he wants is to 
 doze. I let him severely alone as much as I can. 
 
 "But the boy is a different story. He is a bright, 
 lovable creature, full of all the wrong ideas. How 
 can we build up a democracy when our privileged class 
 lives as these people do, rolled up in cotton batting? 
 I'm trying to unwrap the boy. I tutor him and we 
 read together and talk and argue every day. We play 
 tennis and swim and I've learned to ride horseback, so 
 at least I fulfil my duties of amusing the boy. Shall I 
 make a good Socialist of him? I believe I could do 
 it!" 
 
 A portion of Miss Earl's answer ran as follows: 
 
 "I told him in the beginning that his situation was 
 unusual so I cannot rely upon precedent in the case>
 
 68 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 but I should say, offhand, that making a good Socialist 
 out of a boy millionaire, was not a part of the duty of 
 a young woman, placed in a household as an authority 
 on domestic science! However, I never advise the 
 people I place. My duty is accomplished when I place 
 them. I feel sure that your intelligence will not let 
 you do anything contrary to good taste." 
 
 "Bless her heart she's warning me!" smiled Joan, 
 as she read. "She never did anything in her life that 
 wasn't in good taste she couldn't her ancestors 
 wouldn't let her! But I didn't have any ancestors, I 
 haven't any fine breeding; I'm just a working girl out 
 of Whiting, Indiana, with a chance to make a convert. 
 What do I care about taste? That belongs to Greg- 
 ory Farwell and Miss Earl I can't afford to have it." 
 
 Driven to her colours by Miss Earl's warning, she 
 rode away into the town one morning when Dick and 
 Mr. Farwell had gone to New York. She looked over 
 the ground from the outside, as it were. She made 
 friends with one or two women who sat in dooryards. 
 She disarmed suspicion by telling how she had been 
 born in a factory town, of factory workers, in the West. 
 
 "But we have better conditions than you do," she 
 added. 
 
 "There's no use kickin' here we've tried it," one of 
 the women replied indifferently, "an' mdst of us are 
 too poor to get out." 
 
 "Any unions?" 
 
 "Naw company won't stand for it." 
 
 "They'd have to, if you got organized." 
 
 "They've tried it here." 
 
 "Don't your children go to school?" Joan asked, 
 trying a new tack.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 69 
 
 "Naw there ain't no school, 'ceptin' away cross 
 town, so none of the young-uns round here go." 
 
 "That's a shame!" 
 
 "Sure they's lots of shames 'round here," said the 
 woman. 
 
 "I wish I could get you women who don't work in 
 the factories, to let me tell you some things we learned 
 in Whiting. Will you ?" 
 
 "Sure talk's cheap." 
 
 "Could we get them together?" 
 
 "Come 'ere, Johnny " called the woman, and a rag- 
 tag boy appeared. "Go 'round and tell everybody 
 that's home to come on over here, there's somethin* 
 doin'. That'll bring 'em," she added, as he sped away. 
 
 They began to gather at once from all directions. 
 Sodden, work-worn women, just like her mother had 
 been. They were avid for any excitement, from a 
 fight to a prayer meeting. At sight of Joan, they 
 halted. Mrs. Rafferty, their would-be hostess, urged 
 them in. 
 
 "Come on she's a factory girl she's goin' to tell 
 us sumpin " she exclaimed. So they leaned on the 
 fence or squatted on the steps, eyeing the stranger sus- 
 piciously. 
 
 "Be ye a boy or a girl?" inquired a wit, which brought 
 much laughter. 
 
 "Girl " smiled Joan. "I wear breeches, because I 
 ride astride. You can stick on a horse better that way, 
 than side-saddle." 
 
 "Where do ye come from?" 
 
 She explained her job at the Hall. 
 
 "Well what's the latest news in society?" 
 
 "One of the latest items is this that the rich get
 
 70 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 their rights because they take them. They don't sit 
 down, like a lot of fish, and let somebody get ahead of 
 them, just because they're too stupid to fight. You 
 people all live in this town, your husbands vote here 
 Why don't you make this town build a public school in 
 this district so that your children can get some educa- 
 tion and grow up to be capitalists themselves?" 
 
 "My, ain't she a stylish talker?" 
 
 Joan laughed. She knew them their prejudices 
 and suspicions. 
 
 "If you people want to wake up here, I'll help you. 
 I've been through all this and I know. You're my 
 people and I'm yours Get your men stirred up on 
 this school business and I'll help you." 
 
 "Better not tell King Farwell that !" 
 
 "But I'll just get him interested, too." 
 
 This was greeted with laughter. 
 
 "Say you're the merry joker, you are!" they gibed. 
 
 "Wake up and make some demands on him ! Don't 
 let him live up there in the idea that you love the way 
 things are down here and you wouldn't change 'em for 
 worlds 1 You're the people to stir things up, you 
 women. Get busy!" said Joan, mounting her horse. 
 She waved her hand at them and galloped off. 
 
 "I may have to leave the Hall, but my work is right 
 down here," she said gravely, and rode through the 
 woods with knit brows and unseeing eyes.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 FOR two days after the inspection of Farwell, 
 Joan pondered her situation. She had obvious 
 duties toward her employer, she was truly in- 
 terested in her work with Dick, but down in those dirty 
 huts were her people the people she was to dedicate 
 her life to. It seemed a cruel jest that she could not 
 help one without hurting the other. Her own basic 
 honesty refused the thought of double dealing. The 
 end of the month of probation was at hand, and if 
 these men wanted her to stay, she knew she wanted to 
 accept, but there must be no misunderstanding in that 
 agreement. 
 
 When Mr. Farwell asked her to come to his study, 
 on the day in question, she went reluctantly, because 
 she dreaded the interview. He rose and smiled in his 
 genial way at her, inviting her to sit down. His smile 
 always disarmed her. She characterized it to herself 
 as "a misleading smile." "It makes you expect a man 
 of the broadest human sympathies, and it hurts to find 
 he has no sympathies at all," she had said over and 
 over in her thoughts. 
 
 "I suppose you realize this is the last day of the 
 month of probation we agreed upon, Miss Babcock," 
 he began. 
 
 "Yes, I do." 
 
 "I feel that the month has given us a fair idea of one 
 another, don't you ?" 
 
 71
 
 72 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "Ye-es." 
 
 "Superficially, I mean, of course. The whole test 
 of the family idea seems to me to be harmony. Now, 
 should you say that you and Dick and I are sufficiently 
 harmonious to live together?" 
 
 "I think we have managed comfortably enough for 
 this month. I think Dick and I could always man- 
 age." 
 
 "You find me the disturbing element," he smiled. 
 
 "No I am that. It is your atmosphere here, and 
 I invade it " 
 
 "Like an army with banners," he finished for her, 
 and she smiled 
 
 "Like an army with trumpets, I suppose you think!" 
 
 "Dick is the real point. As you say, you and he 
 'manage.' I can see now how the boy needed just such 
 a dynamic personality as yours to fire his faculties. 
 I'm not unaware that Dick and I are under great obli- 
 gations to you, whether you stay on with us, or not." 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 "I know that life with us is not exciting. The edu- 
 cation and companionship of a seventeen year old boy 
 cannot be very absorbing to a girl of your capacities." 
 
 He hesitated, looking at her for her answer, but she 
 felt it to be prefatory to the sentence he must deliver, 
 so she made no reply. 
 
 "I confess that nothing could be farther from my 
 original intention than to install a young woman of 
 your type as the head of my household." 
 
 "I remember," she nodded, and quoted the require- 
 ment which had been written on Miss Earl's card 
 "Well bred, college education, taste for books and fine 
 arts." 
 \ He stared.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 73 
 
 "Was that what I asked for?" 
 
 "And I am what the gods provide 1" 
 
 They both laughed at that. 
 
 "You told me that if you stayed on, you would in- 
 stall some system into my housekeeping " 
 
 "Yes I would." 
 
 "Would it be very upsetting?" 
 
 "It might. Mrs. Craddock is a bit old for new 
 tricks." 
 
 "That's the trouble." 
 
 She looked at him anxiously. 
 
 "How do you feel about us?" he continued. "If I 
 keep out of the way, can you put up with us?" 
 
 He watched the slow colour mount her face. She 
 certainly was bewitching to look at. 
 
 "You mean you want me to stay on?" 
 
 "If you will. I hate to think of the effect on Dick, 
 if you abandon us." 
 
 He wondered at the grave look that came into the 
 girl's face. She looked older, in a second. 
 
 "I want to stay," she began. 
 
 "Good then that is settled." 
 
 She rose as if to go hesitated 
 
 "Mr. Farwell, is it true that you are the owner of 
 the factories in Farwell?" 
 
 He stared. 
 
 "Yes, as Dick's guardian, I am, Miss Babcock 
 Why?" 
 
 "Have you ever gone over them?" 
 
 "No I haven't been in them for years. When 
 there is anything to discuss, the managers come to me. 
 Why?" 
 
 "You wouldn't care to go and look at them, would 
 you?"
 
 ,74 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "I would not." 
 
 "Dick will own them some day?" 
 
 "Yes. When he is twenty-one." 
 
 "He's never been over them either, has he?" 
 
 "Not that I know" 
 
 "Do you mind if I take him through those factories ?" 
 
 "You? Why should you?" 
 
 "Because I would like him to see how the lives of 
 many people are all tangled up with his. Being the 
 owner of those factories is a man's job it ought to be 
 Dick's job he ought to be training for it, now." 
 
 Gregory frowned slightly. 
 
 "There are capable men in charge of it now, thank 
 you. I can't think of Dick mixing up with it." 
 
 Joan faced him with shining eyes. 
 
 "Give Dick a chance to choose!" 
 
 He could not understand her ardour; it irritated him 
 slightly. 
 
 "Certainly. But if you think the inside view of the 
 factories would fill Dick with a longing to run them, 
 I beg of you to reason with him. If it seems so im- 
 portant to you that he should see his holdings, by all 
 means take him. I'll give you a card to the man- 
 ager." 
 
 "I promise not to try to influence him in the matter." 
 
 "I don't think you need worry about him. My ex- 
 perience with Dick leads me to believe that he will 
 always choose the easiest and most comfortable way of 
 doing things." 
 
 How she hated his scoffing ! 
 
 "I think you scarcely realize that Dick is at the very 
 door of manhood. His enthusiasms are alive, his emo- 
 tions are ready for the torch " 
 
 "Well?"
 
 THE THRESHOLD 75 
 
 "Don't you see that I can sway the boy's whole fu- 
 ture?" she cried, angry at his cool obtuseness. 
 
 "You mean he is in love with you?" 
 
 She flushed scarlet at that. 
 
 "No I mean that his imagination is awake. Don't 
 you see you teach him only a negative philosophy 
 mine is positive." 
 
 "You mean your theory of I suppose you call it 
 service?" 
 
 "Yes, I mean that." 
 
 "I know you're a very clever young woman what 
 you say of the boy's state of mind may be true, but I 
 also know Dick." 
 
 "Do you give me leave to convert Dick?" 
 
 "I should enjoy watching you try it." 
 
 "Oh, you can't laugh at everything I" she cried. 
 "This is so serious, and you only scoff !" 
 
 "I'm not scoffing. I find your fervour inexplainable 
 and exhausting so few things are worthy of fervour. 
 If we were in a play, now, you would challenge me to 
 a struggle for the soul of Dick " he smiled. 
 
 She kept her self-control with difficulty. 
 
 "I shall show Dick the factories, as I see them." 
 
 "Why do you care so much about those factories?" 
 
 "Because I was born in the shadow of one; because 
 my father lost his life in a factory accident, and my 
 mother dragged herself through one, day in, day out, 
 until the welcome grave opened to her. They are my 
 people down in Farwell Now, do you understand ?" 
 
 Gregory rose to his feet. 
 
 "I beg your pardon " he said. 
 
 "I offer to resign, Mr. Farwell." 
 
 "Why should you?" gravely. 
 
 "Can I serve you and Farwell too?"
 
 76 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "What do you want to do there?" 
 
 "Clean it up make it decent." 
 
 "Hopeless." 
 
 Her laugh was a taunt. 
 
 "You can't do it without stirring up trouble." 
 
 "Probably not." 
 
 "I won't have that." 
 
 "You could do it yourself, without trouble," she said. 
 
 "I'm afraid you must choose between us after all, 
 Miss Babcock. It seems necessary for us to be theat- 
 rical." 
 
 She hesitated. 
 
 "You won't let me take Dick there, now?" 
 
 "Yes but I hold you to your promise this time, that 
 you will not influence him, to stir up trouble. We've 
 managed to keep things quiet there for some time, and 
 I can't have any interference." 
 
 There was no lack of force in his voice this time. 
 
 "Possibly you will not decide the question of your 
 greater duty, Miss Babcock, until after Dick's tour of 
 inspection?" 
 
 "I would like to think it over a day or so," she re- 
 plied. 
 
 "By all means. I'm obliged to you for playing so 
 fair with me." 
 
 "You've been fair, too," she said. 
 
 He smiled at her. 
 
 "If you are labour and I am capital, that line is not 
 in our roles at all." 
 
 "It's the key to the whole solution," she answered 
 quickly. "That's why I'm so eager for your party to 
 begin to be fair!" 
 
 "Must we begin? Why doesn't your party try it?"
 
 THE THRESHOLD 77 
 
 "We can't. We'll respond, if you'll only let us. 
 But you have the power." 
 
 "There you go with your eternal responsibility," he 
 protested. 
 
 "You shirk but you don't escape," she said, and left 
 him. 
 
 Out on the terrace Dick sat at a book-littered table. 
 The sun specked his yellow hair and fell across the 
 rich brown of his sun-burned neck. At sound of her 
 step, he looked up, his whole face lighting with wel- 
 come. Then he came toward her. 
 
 "Where have you been?" he complained. "I've 
 been waiting half an hour. You act as if my educa- 
 tion were of no interest to anybody." 
 
 She put her hand impulsively on his broad shoulder. 
 
 "Dicky Dicky your education is of such vital im- 
 portance to so many people!" she answered gravely, 
 with quick tears shining in her eyes. 
 
 "I say what's up?" he asked. "Has Uncle Greg 
 been plaguing you ?" 
 
 "No I'm afraid I've been plaguing him." 
 
 "Good thing! He needs it. Cocky old beggar, 
 Uncle Greg. He needs stirring up." 
 
 "Why don't you stir him up?" 
 
 "Nope you're the one to take him in hand." 
 
 "But I don't want to go about stirring everybody 
 up." 
 
 He tipped his chair onto its back legs and looked at 
 her. 
 
 "You can't help it!" he said.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 OAN wrote : 
 
 JDEAR Miss EARL, The incredible has happened! Mr. 
 Farwell has asked me to stay. Stranger still, I want to 
 stay. But I thought it my duty to tell him that I intended to 
 rouse Dick to his responsibilities in regard to those factories I 
 wrote you about in the town. He was very scoffing about my 
 ability to do that, so I threw down the gauntlet to him, my phil- 
 osophy against his, for Dick. He thinks it will amuse him to 
 watch me try to make a good employer out of Dick. You've no 
 idea how incensed I get at his eternal jeering at things! If only 
 the Lord would arouse him with a thunderbolt (not fatally) ! 
 
 I told him about my people in Whiting, because he challenged 
 my interests in the workers. I also admitted that I wanted to 
 clean up that town, and in order to do it, I might make trouble 
 for him therefore I tendered my resignation. He refused it. 
 He roused himself enough to order me to let his employes alone 
 and he exacted a promise, already offered by me, not to try to 
 influence Dick to make trouble. "Trouble" is the one terror 
 of Mr. Farwell's life. If he could be sure of uninterrupted 
 tranquillity, he would ask no more, I'm sure. Think of it 
 a grown man, worth millions, sliding through the days like a 
 shadow ! 
 
 He agreed that the boy should inspect the factories; he has 
 promised me a card to the superintendent. It seems to me that 
 no responsibility that can come to me could equal that which 
 I face with this boy. His mind is virgin soil, and what I plant 
 is what is to grow and flower. I know I have a personal influ- 
 ence with him that frightens me. He thinks what I say must 
 be right. He knows absolutely nothing of the world of work- 
 
 78
 
 THE THRESHOLD 79 
 
 a-day people. He has never denied himself anything, done any- 
 thing for anybody. He is just a big, lovable child, and what 
 I know I must teach him will hurt him. But he must not grow 
 up to be like Mr. Farwell, of that I am sure. 
 
 You see the problems here are all psychological, none of them 
 practical, material. How sardonic that a course in domestic 
 science could land me in such a tangle ! 
 
 I cannot promise you "the good taste" which you appeal to 
 in your last letter, dear Miss Earl, but you may rely on my 
 scrupulous honesty. One of the complicating features is that I 
 feel myself to be your representative here, as well as the mis- 
 sionary of my working people. I shall act with deliberation 
 and a prayerful sense of duty. 
 
 I wish you would tell me frankly how you feel about it all. 
 I have grown to look upon you as a sort of mother confessor 
 do you mind? 
 
 With cordial regards, 
 
 JOAN BABCOCK. 
 
 This was the letter which Joan dispatched to the 
 head of the Professional Women's Bureau, the night 
 of the talk with Gregory. 
 
 Now that she had "had it out" with her employer, 
 and explained the situation to Miss Earl, she felt sud- 
 denly freed. She could let things drift for a little. 
 The main thing now was the education of Dick Far- 
 well must wait for him. It might take her a year to 
 prepare him just to truly see Farwell. Now that it 
 was settled that she was to stay on, that she was to be 
 permitted to carry out her plans, a wave of gratitude 
 swept over her. She wanted to sing and dance. 
 
 It was something of this mood that caught Gregory's 
 attention at breakfast the next day and made him say, 
 
 "Dick, has Miss Babcock seen our cave?" 
 
 "No not yet."
 
 8o THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "I suggest a pilgrimage there today. We can go 
 on horses and Jergens can bring the lunch after us, or 
 we can motor to the edge of the forest and walk in 
 'any way you like." 
 
 "Great idea, Uncle Greg!" 
 
 "Could you close your school for a day, and come, 
 Miss Babcock?" 
 
 "Gladly I'd love a day off." 
 
 "You see, Dick, you work Miss Babcock too hard " 
 
 "Don't you worry about my working her!" pro- 
 tested his nephew. 
 
 "How shall we go, Miss Babcock horse or mo- 
 tor?" 
 
 "I vote for horses." 
 
 "Good for you. So do I." 
 
 "Horses it shall be. If you'll order the lunch, I'll 
 give Jergens instructions about meeting us." 
 
 "Anybody any special longings in the direction of 
 food?" she inquired. 
 
 "Plenty of everything," called Dick as she departed. 
 
 It was a perfect specimen of summer day. They set 
 forth in high good humour on their holiday. It was 
 the first time Mr. Farwell had joined them on their 
 rides, and he brought the pleased colour to Joan's face 
 when he complimented her horsemanship. 
 
 "I had a stern, but excellent teacher," she laughed. 
 
 "She's some credit to me," bragged Dick. "Show 
 the gentleman how you can gallop," he ordered, and 
 touched his horse sharply. 
 
 She was off after him in a flash, and Gregory thun- 
 dered along behind them for half a mile. 
 
 "Good work!" he cried, as they pulled into a walk, 
 flushed and hot. She turned a glowing face upon him. 
 "How alive that girl is she rides as passionately as
 
 THE THRESHOLD 81 
 
 she plans to save Dick's soul and mine," was his in- 
 ward comment. 
 
 She and Dick laughed and chaffed and teased each 
 other along the way they raced, they played circus 
 tricks, like a couple of boys. They made Gregory feel 
 a trifle elderly, but on the whole he was highly diverted 
 by their antics. It certainly was a new light upon the 
 girl. No wonder she focused the boy's attention, if 
 she played with him like this. Gregory had an idea 
 that she was always acting the mentor, or trying to 
 improve his mind, but evidently this idea needed amend- 
 ing. Ever since her boast of her humble origin, Greg- 
 ory had found himself watching her with interest. 
 
 She had a quick delight in colour, and now and then 
 she exclaimed over the things that gave her pleasure. 
 
 "You are fond of the country," Gregory said to her. 
 
 "I love it. I had no idea how satisfying it would 
 be. I've never been in ideal country before I mean 
 woods like this. It was barren prairie about my home. 
 There were only parks in Chicago. They were beau- 
 tiful but this it is so lovely on a day like this, that 
 it hurts." 
 
 "We must take her to the Forest of Fontainbleau and 
 to Como, and some of the other places we like, Uncle 
 Greg," said Dick. 
 
 "Dick, don't talk like that it interferes with my 
 heart action!" exclaimed Joan. "Those are just won- 
 der-words in a dream-vocabulary, those aren't things 
 that come true." 
 
 "Don't they? We'll take you in a minute, if you 
 want to go. Uncle Greg is the best old guide you 
 ever met. He knows every out of the way spot in 
 the world, I guess, and he never expects any guff about 
 cathedrals."
 
 82 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 They all laughed. 
 
 "I leave it to you, Miss Babcock, if I could have 
 higher praise." 
 
 The trees were forest trees now, with underbrush in 
 some places, or low hanging boughs to be avoided. 
 
 "The trails are all gone, Dick," commented Mr. 
 Farwell. "Are you sure of the direction?" 
 
 "Yes, I know the way." 
 
 "We usually keep a trail cut through, for the 
 horses," he explained to Joan. "Evidently the men 
 haven't got to it this summer." 
 
 "I think it's more fun without trails. How will 
 Jergens get in with the lunch, though?" she added. 
 
 "He can see our path where we've tramped down 
 the brush," answered Gregory. 
 
 "He's such a fool ! I'll let you two go ahead and 
 I'll wait for him here, rather than to miss the lunch," 
 said Dick. 
 
 "Nonsense he'll find us. Go on, Dick." 
 
 It was very slow going, because they had to pick 
 the way, so that the brambles would not cut their 
 horses' legs. It was nearing two o'clock when they 
 finally came to the clearing in the forest, before the 
 mouth of the cave. Dick looked at his watch. 
 
 "Gee! It's nearly the middle of the afternoon, and 
 no food! Jergens will never get here." 
 
 "Cheer up, Dick, starvation never takes place within 
 twenty-four hours of the last meal," comforted Mr. 
 Farwell. 
 
 "I hope you ordered lots of grub," he appealed to 
 Joan. 
 
 "Tons. That's what's the matter with poor Jer- 
 gens. The hamper is so full, he can't carry it." 
 
 "He'll have a snap going back, I promise you. Let's
 
 THE THRESHOLD 83 
 
 take her in the cave it'll keep our minds off our hun- 
 ger." 
 
 "Lead the way," nodded Gregory. 
 
 So Dick peered into the mouth of the cavern and 
 went cautiously in. Joan came next and Gregory last. 
 They held each other's hands. 
 
 "Tell her the story, Uncle Greg, it's more spooky 
 in the dark." 
 
 "The tale has to do with the tragedy of a great- 
 great-great-great grandfather of ours, also named 
 Gregory Farwell," said Gregory promptly. "He 
 brought a young wife, Gertrude, to Farwell Hall, where 
 he lived by the gun and the rod. He was many years 
 her senior, and his hunting left her much alone. But 
 in his household lived a retainer, young and handsome. 
 One day when the lord of the house returned, he found 
 his bride had fled with her lover. He followed them 
 he found them. He brought her back, and the story 
 goes he walled her up in this cave, with a boulder 
 against the opening. Years after they found her whit- 
 ening bones," he concluded, in the properly impressive 
 tones. 
 
 "Poor lady !" said Joan. 
 
 "The end of the tale and the end of the cave," said 
 Dick. "Right about face." 
 
 They turned and clutched their way back to the 
 light. 
 
 "Queer how depressing it is underground," Joan 
 said. "If we lived there, I suppose it would seem as 
 normal as the top of the earth. I'd rather live in the 
 air." 
 
 "Look here I don't want to live on the air," ex- 
 claimed Dick. "You two sit down and I'll go back 
 over our tracks a way and help Jergens carry the grub."
 
 84 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "Keep to our tracks, now, Dick, we don't want to 
 have to send a search party after you," cautioned Greg- 
 ory. 
 
 "Nothing but the scent of food will get me off the 
 track. I'll be back in a little while." 
 
 He tramped off. Gregory found a comfortable spot 
 at the foot of a tree for Joan, and stretched himself 
 out beside her. 
 
 "Are you frightfully hungry?" he asked her. 
 
 "Noare you?" 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 "I rather like your idea of our living in the air. 
 Looks rather jolly up there," he remarked, looking 
 through the interlaced branches. "How would we be 
 housed, do you think?" 
 
 "Air castles, of course," she replied. 
 
 "Reached by airships, defended by air guns." 
 
 "Heated by hot air!" she added, laughing. 
 
 "Would you have the people fitted out with wings, 
 like the angels in the ecclesiastical pictures?" 
 
 "Oh, no, they aren't modern. Those wings were 
 too big and unwieldy, and I'm sure they'd be consid- 
 ered unhygienic in these days. Small bi-plane effects 
 on ankles and shoulders would be the newest thing." 
 
 "Aereated foods, of course " he contributed. 
 
 "Cultivated in sky gardens, by each inhabitant." 
 
 "Oh, you'd have them all work?" 
 
 "I would." 
 
 "No capitalist class?" he teased. "No owners of 
 great tracts of clouds, no monopolists of sun rays, no 
 trusts to corner moisture, or to manufacture liquid 
 ozone?" 
 
 "No, no, no! A free people, superior to the law
 
 THE THRESHOLD 85 
 
 of gravitation, each one living on the fruits of his own 
 effort." 
 
 "That would be the only 'fruits' they could raise in 
 your socialistic cloud colony." 
 
 "I'd have it a true democracy!" 
 
 "With woman's suffrage?" he chaffed. 
 
 "How could it be a democracy without?" she de- 
 manded. 
 
 "Better not have any education," he advised. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "It only tends to emphasize the inequalities in minds. 
 Or would you have a regulation sized mind, worn by 
 all?" 
 
 "Only minds with union labels need apply !" 
 
 "That's the idea. Necessary to the kind of com- 
 munity you want." 
 
 "Couldn't you manage to suppose a state of fra- 
 ternity where the ones who had the most ability would 
 give their excess to the others?" she asked him. 
 
 "I cannot." 
 
 "I can." 
 
 "I hope I'll never be condemned to live in this sky 
 parlour place !" he exclaimed. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Bore me to death. I'd rather live in that cave. 
 So would you," he added. "Nothing for you to do 
 in that perfect one-mind community. You'd be the 
 same kind of waste there, that you accuse me of being 
 here." 
 
 "I don't accuse you of any such thing," she retorted. 
 
 He turned a laughing, scoffing face up to her. A 
 ray of sun struck across his eyes. 
 
 "By Jove that sun is " he looked at his watch
 
 V 
 
 86 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "it's four o'clock!" he exclaimed, getting to his feet. 
 "Where do you suppose that boy is?" 
 
 "I think we'd better get on the horses, and find out," 
 she replied. 
 
 "Suppose you stay here in case he comes back. I'll 
 go over the track and shout for him. He should have 
 taken his horse," he grumbled, as he saddled. 
 
 "How long shall I wait here? The trail would be 
 difficult after dark." 
 
 "I'll come back for you; you aren't afraid?" 
 
 "Certainly not." 
 
 "Nice outing we've given you no lunch, and now 
 Dick lost!" he complained. He mounted his horse. 
 
 "Hurry back I shall be anxious " 
 
 "Don't worry the crazy youth may have got off 
 the path. I'll find him in no time." 
 
 He rode away, under the trees, leaving Joan to face 
 the unaccustomed silence of the forest.
 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 FOR some time Joan could hear Gregory shout- 
 ing, but presently that died away, and the in- 
 tense stillness settled down upon her. To Joan, 
 unused to the forest, its quiet was oppressive and terri- 
 fying. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, only to 
 start at every sound of cracking twig or chattering 
 squirrel. A big bird flapped low overhead and she 
 rose and walked about. She went to talk to the 
 ponies, to feel their companionship. Why hadn't 
 Gregory set her a task to do? She hated inaction. 
 Time wore on slowly, and nothing happened. The 
 sun dropped lower. The shadows slanted through the 
 trees and flooded the place with melancholy. 
 
 Joan decided she could not bear it she must do 
 something. She found an envelope in her bag on 
 which she wrote a line saying she had joined the hunt 
 and would return. She pinned it to a tree. Then 
 with great difficulty she saddled her horse and started 
 on the trail. 
 
 She rode slowly, looking right and left. When she 
 had gone a half mile or so she came to a place where 
 it looked as if two trails had been made, by a trampling 
 down of the brush. Her instinct told her that the one 
 to the left was the one they had come in on, so maybe 
 Gregory had veered off here, making the other. She 
 called and called first Dick, then Mr. Farwell. But 
 no answer came except the shrill outcry of birds, who 
 
 87
 
 88 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 whirred up from the trees, chattering their angry pro- 
 test. There was a tree near the parting of these two 
 paths, and to it she tied her horse and set out on foot, 
 down the trail to the right. She was no woodsman nor 
 had she a knife, so she did not blaze the way on trees, 
 but she tore up two handkerchiefs and tied bits of them 
 to branches and when they were used up she laid sticks 
 in such a way that if she could see them, she could 
 recognize them. It was getting dusk now, the long 
 summer twilight setting in. She hurried on, stopping 
 to call at intervals. All signs of trampling done by a 
 horse or man had vanished, but still she hurried on, 
 stumbling over things, frightened at the sudden scarn- 
 perings about her. Something must have happened to 
 Dick. Finally she tripped on a log and fell over it. 
 She was so tired she did not get up. It was almost 
 dark, just a grey shadow of light. Somewhere there 
 was a breaking of twigs, as if under foot. She sat up 
 and shouted there was an answering call and Dick 
 plunged into view, bedraggled and hot with effort. 
 
 "Dick is that you?" she called to him. 
 
 "Joan good Lord!" he cried and hurried to her, 
 kneeling beside her. "What is it? What hap- 
 pened?" 
 
 "We were frightened about you, and Mr. Farwell 
 went to look for you. I couldn't stand it to wait, so I 
 set out too." 
 
 "But I'm clear off the track I've been batting about 
 for hours," he said. 
 
 "I can find the way back if we hurry before it gets 
 too dark. I've got my horse tied down here. Pull 
 me up," she commanded. 
 
 He helped her and she tottered a little. 
 
 "You must be nearly dead!" he protested.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 89 
 
 "I'm all right. Come on, now." 
 
 She took his hand and led the way. She had no 
 idea she could find her white flags in the dark, but she 
 saw that the boy was worn out, so she took a firm in- 
 itiative. For what seemed hours they stumbled along, 
 trying to find Joan's landmarks. When they came to 
 the first handkerchief strip they set up a shout and went 
 ahead with new courage. They did not talk, they were 
 too tired. 
 
 Once they were sure that they had lost the lead en- 
 tirely and they set up a halloo. A whinny answered 
 them. 
 
 "It's the horse I" cried Joan. "We're all right." 
 
 Finally they came in sight of the mare and knew they 
 were safe. 
 
 "She'll have to carry us both," said Joan, mounting. 
 "Get up behind I know the way now." 
 
 So Dick managed to get his aching body astride the 
 mare and they moved slowly toward the woods which 
 surrounded the cave. 
 
 "If Mr. Farwell has got back he is probably furious 
 at me," said Joan, her only remark during the long 
 ride. As they neared the wood they saw the smoke of 
 a fire and again they shouted. This time the answer 
 came and as they approached, they saw figures waving. 
 Mr. Farwell was at Joan's bridle in a second. 
 
 "I I found " she began, and as Dick fell off the 
 mare, Joan would have followed suit, had Mr. Farwell 
 not caught her. He lifted her from the saddle and 
 carried her to the fire, where he laid her on a blanket. 
 
 "Coffee Jergens," he said, and when it was brought 
 he lifted her head and administered it. 
 
 Dick stumbled into view and sat beside Joan, with 
 concern.
 
 90 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "She must have walked miles!" he said. "She isn't 
 dead, is she?" 
 
 "No just faint and exhausted," Gregory encour- 
 aged him. "Drink your coffee, boy," he added, as 
 Dick's black-circled eyes were lifted to his face. 
 
 "Is there food?" asked Dick. 
 
 "Yes, sir, lots of it," answered Jergens. 
 
 When Joan opened her eyes upon the scene, she 
 found herself supported by Mr. Gregory's arm, her 
 head back against his breast; she was completely dazed 
 for a minute. She found his answering smile reassur- 
 ing, and then she saw Jergens with a plate piled high 
 with food. 
 
 "Oh food!" she exclaimed and sat up. 
 
 They devoured food there is no other word for it. 
 They drank the coffee from two big thermos bottles, 
 as well as a quart of sauterne. They exchanged almost 
 no words during the process. 
 
 But when they had consumed every scrap of Mrs. 
 Craddock's excellent luncheon, they stretched out 
 around the fire, with groans of satisfaction and each 
 one told what had happened to him. 
 
 Dick had gotten off the track and wandered for 
 hours. Gregory had ridden straight out to the road, 
 which led up to the forest and there had found Jergens. 
 He, in turn, explained how he tried to get in with the 
 big hampers and realized that he could not make it, 
 so he had gone back to the motor, thinking Dick would 
 return for the food. Gregory had brought the ham- 
 pers to the cave on his horse, Jergens following on 
 foot. When they found Joan gone, it was already 
 dark and they had lighted the fire as a signal. 
 
 Then Joan told how she grew restive and decided to 
 start off too, and had eventually found Dick.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 91 
 
 "Such a comedy of errors !" exclaimed Gregory at 
 the end of her recital. "I suppose I should have 
 known better than to expect you to sit still and 
 wait." 
 
 "I tried but I couldn't do it," she smiled back at 
 him. 
 
 "Are you nearly dead?" Dick asked tenderly. 
 
 "No, Dick, I think I'll live nowl" 
 
 "I could kill myself for doing this to you," he went 
 on. 
 
 "Why, I'm all right," she protested. "You couldn't 
 help getting lost." 
 
 "Well, you're a peach to come and look for me, and 
 I'll never forget it," he exclaimed passionately. 
 
 "Nothing heroic about that rescue," laughed Joan. 
 "I collapsed over a log and Dick nearly collapsed over 
 
 me." 
 
 Gregory was grateful to her for coming to the rescue 
 so quickly and saving the boy from his overwrought 
 feelings. 
 
 "Next time we have a picnic, we'll chain Dick and 
 the lunch to a tree at the beginning of the party," re- 
 marked Mr. Farwell. 
 
 "Isn't it nice the way the fire throws shadows 1" Joan 
 exclaimed, as she lay on her back looking up at the 
 great trees above her. They all stared up into the 
 night sky for a little in comfortable silence. 
 
 "Let's spend the night right here," suggested Dick. 
 
 "You'd be so stiff after a night on this damp ground, 
 you'd never walk again," replied his uncle. "We 
 ought to be on our way now, children," he added, ris- 
 ing for a consultation with Jergens. 
 
 When he was gone, Dick leaned over and laid his 
 cheek against Joan's hand. She started a little, then
 
 92 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 she lifted it to his head for a second and remarked 
 gently. 
 
 "Poor tired kid 1" 
 
 "Don't " he answered, getting to his feet and 
 going to join the men. 
 
 Presently Gregory came to Joan. 
 
 "We're short a horse," he said. "It seems hardly 
 fair to ask Jergens to walk back. Would you mind 
 riding with Dick or me and letting him use your mare?" 
 
 "Not at all," she answered. 
 
 "We're ready, then," he said, offering his hand to 
 pull her up. 
 
 She went over to where the horses were saddled. 
 
 "Come with me, Miss Babcock?" begged Dick. 
 
 She hesitated a second. 
 
 "No, thanks, Dick. I think Mr. Farwell's horse 
 is stronger and bigger." 
 
 Dick mounted and went ahead to cover his disap- 
 pointment. Jergens, with the hampers, followed on 
 Joan's horse Mr. Farwell helped her up, mounted 
 himself drew her into a comfortable position before 
 him, and the cavalcade started. 
 
 They did not talk it was slow going, and difficult. 
 Once or twice Gregory felt her body relax against him 
 in sleep, only to stiffen again, resisting her weariness. 
 
 "Go to sleep I won't let you fall off," he said. 
 
 She made no answer only shook her head. Long 
 after midnight they came to the road where the ma- 
 chine waited. Dick and Joan were transferred to the 
 back seat, while Gregory elected to ride and lead the 
 other horses. 
 
 The two in the motor were asleep almost at once. 
 They had to be forcibly aroused at the door of the
 
 THE THRESHOLD 93 
 
 Hall. They staggered indoors, blinking and cross, 
 like children. 
 
 Gregory came up to Joan and took her hand. 
 
 "Good night, Miss Babcock. Sleep all day tomor- 
 row, if you can. Permit me to say that you are a very 
 good sport." 
 
 "Amen," added Dick, yawning. 
 
 "Good night and thanks," replied Joan. She left 
 them with the feeling that this experience had made 
 them for the first time three friends.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 IN SPITE of her numerous duties at the Hall, Joan 
 managed to follow up her -first visit to the town. 
 She made friends with all the children, and estab- 
 lished a speaking acquaintance at least with the women 
 in the shanties. She went about among them and 
 noted the conditions under which they lived. She got 
 to know their names and how many people there were 
 in their families. They talked frankly enough of their 
 troubles and joys, so she soon learned which husbands 
 were drunkards, which sons were malcontents, which 
 daughters were "bad-uns." 
 
 As the heat of the summer came on, Joan often rode 
 down to spend an hour with Mrs. Rafferty. A word to 
 the boy at the corner drug store and at the proper time, 
 when the clans had gathered, a relay of ice cream cones 
 would arrive, or a bucket of iced lemonade would ap- 
 pear, enough for all the hot, dirty children, as well as 
 their mothers. 
 
 They all liked her she furnished diversion in their 
 dull days, as well as refreshments; occasionally a re- 
 mark of some factory hand would be repeated to her, 
 warning them against her. 
 
 "Say, Miss Babcock, our Patsy sez yer a spy " 
 piped one of the many Raffertys, as Joan rode up one 
 day. 
 
 "Does he, now?" she answered, busy tying her horse 
 to a telegraph pole. 
 
 There was a rush from the house, a flash of red hair 
 
 94
 
 THE THRESHOLD 95 
 
 and angry face and -the young offender was caught up 
 in a grip of steel and punishment administered to the 
 tune of howls. It brought Mrs. Rafferty onto the 
 scene. 
 
 "Good day to yez, Miss Babcock. Patsy, leave Jim 
 alone" 
 
 "I'll learn 'im to blab what I say " replied the 
 eldest, with renewed attention to his brother. 
 
 "Did you ask him not to tell me?" asked Joan. 
 
 He turned to her in some surprise, upon which Jim 
 managed to escape. 
 
 "I did not!" he answered truculently. 
 
 "This is my Patsy, Miss Babcock " intervened 
 Mrs. Rafferty. "Now, Patsy, don't give her none of 
 yer lip!" 
 
 Joan advanced to him and held out her hand. 
 
 "I'm no spy, Pat don't you worry about that. I'm 
 a worker like yourself." 
 
 He shook hands with obvious reluctance, and he 
 looked her in the eye with active suspicion. He was a 
 youth of about the same age as Dick. A shock of curly 
 bright red hair, surmounted a handsome, keen Irish 
 face eyes full of fire at the moment, but usually full 
 of mischief. He had the white freckled skin that goes 
 with that colouring. 
 
 "I've heard a good deal about you, Pat, I'm glad to 
 meet you," Joan continued. 
 
 "B'en livin' fer this day, I suppose," he retorted. 
 
 "Just," she answered and laughed. He grinned a 
 little, reluctantly. "Holiday today?" 
 
 "Nope fired." 
 
 "Too bad. What happened ?" 
 
 "None of your business," he replied and walked off. 
 
 Joan looked after him a second. She was sorry
 
 96 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 he resented her interest. He must be won over, of 
 course, for here was a personality. This was the stuff 
 leaders were made of. Mrs. Rafferty gave her a 
 shrewd glance as she came toward the "stoop" as they 
 called the platform in front of the shanty. 
 
 "Your Patsy doesn't like me," Joan remarked. 
 
 "Don't pay no moind to 'im he's that sore wid de 
 foreman at the factry, him that's always a-firin' him. 
 He's a big sthiff, called Larsen, an' him an' Patsy ain't 
 frindly." 
 
 "Do you know why?" 
 
 "Sure, I know why. Larsen is a Swede, and he's a 
 foighter wit de gloves, ye know. When he first come 
 he was tellin' how he cud lick the whole town wit wan 
 hand, an' so the byes got thegither and made 'im up 
 a purse av five dollars and invited him to meet our 
 Patsy." 
 
 "Can Patsy box?" 
 
 "Can he box? Can anny Irishman foight? Ye bet 
 he can. They tell me he ain't scientific, but he sure is 
 quick on the comeback. The Swede was slow and 
 heavy, an' Patsy wore him out an' beat 'im up. When 
 Larsen got to be foreman, he began to pick on Patsy. 
 He fires him for the least thing!" she concluded hotly. 
 
 "But he takes him back?" 
 
 "Sure he's got to. Patsy's one of the best work- 
 ers. He's what they call the pace-maker. He keeps 
 the men cheerful and workin' to the limit." 
 
 "I see. He looks smart." 
 
 "Sure he's smart. I wisht he wasn't so smart his 
 pay envelope'ud come in more reg'lar." 
 
 "Don't you worry Patsy isn't through yet. You 
 may be proud of him before he's much older."
 
 THE THRESHOLD 97 
 
 "Who says I ain't proud of 'im?" demanded Mrs. 
 Rafferty. 
 
 "Are the men going to do something about the 
 school?" inquired Joan. 
 
 "Naw they say it's no use they ain't got time to 
 'tend to it." 
 
 "I wish we could get your son to take it up." 
 
 "Patsy wouldn't bother 'imself." 
 
 "I could talk to him about it," Joan said thought- 
 fully. 
 
 "Here he comes now," remarked his mother, as her 
 son approached. "Miss Babcock wants to ask ye a 
 favour, Patsy," she grinned. 
 
 An angry flush came over his face. 
 
 "It isn't a favour to me it's a favour to the kids of 
 this town," Joan amended, as he started to go into the 
 cabin. He stopped and looked at her. 
 
 "The only real weapon for us against the capitalist 
 is education," she said. "You know that." 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 "The reason they put it over on us, is because we're 
 ignorant." 
 
 "But we ain't always goin' to be ignorant!" he burst 
 out. 
 
 "We are, when we let the Town Councils run us, like 
 they do in this town." 
 
 "What d'ye mean?" 
 
 "There's no school for this district. It's so far to 
 the one public school that the factory people's children 
 can't go or don't go. You're all voters here. Why 
 don't you head a delegation of citizens to pack the 
 next town meeting and demand a school in this dis- 
 trict?"
 
 98 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "You mean me?" 
 
 "Why not? You want these kids to have a chance, 
 don't you?" 
 
 "Sure" 
 
 "You can tell that to the Town Council, can't you?" 
 
 "Sure." 
 
 "It would be a big thing to do for our side," she re- 
 marked casually, rising to go. "Good-bye, Mrs. Raf- 
 ferty. Go to it, Pat. I wish I could help you." 
 
 She nodded to them, untied her horse and rode away. 
 On the way home she went over and over the conversa- 
 tion, wishing she might have said more or said it better. 
 If that boy could be aroused to fight for the things 
 that were important, nothing would stop him. 
 
 As for Patsy, he pooh-poohed the idea that this 
 much discussed young woman could indicate his duty to 
 him. But her phrase, "it would be a great thing for 
 our side," kept popping up in his mind. He found 
 himself considering ways and means of approaching 
 the Town Council. True to his Irish Blood, "politics" 
 was his natural element. The head of the Council was 
 the Mayor of the town. The local election took place 
 in the fall. The vote of the factory district was a very 
 big asset in a re-election. These facts Patsy turned 
 over in his mind. 
 
 Just to try out the possibilities of the scheme, he 
 brought up the subject of a school in Grady's saloon 
 one night. 
 
 "Aw, shut up, Patsy. Has the wimmen been after 
 you, too?" 
 
 "They have not," he defended quickly. " 'Tis me 
 own brain that's been after me. Why is it we've got 
 no school nearer than Third Street? 'Tis because 
 we're too down-spirited to demand our rights. A pub-
 
 THE THRESHOLD 99 
 
 lie school is our rights; now, why don't we git one fer 
 our kids?" 
 
 "How many kids you got, Patsy?" jeered Aron 
 Kovlatski. 
 
 "If I had seven, like you got, Aron, I wouldn't be 
 lettin' the capitalists squeeze the life out of 'em." 
 
 "Aw what ye givin' us?" 
 
 " 'Tis nothin' to me, if you fellows can't see yet that 
 education is the only way ye'll ever get even wit' 'em. 
 We're payin' fer public schools, an' we ain't gittin' um. 
 Is that a square deal or ain't ut?" 
 
 "They ain't goin' to build no schoolhouse because 
 we tell 'em to, Pat." 
 
 "Ain't they? If you had some education, so's your 
 brain 'ud work, Jim, ye'd know that Ben Card wants 
 our votes to re-elect him." 
 
 "What's that got to do with a school?" 
 
 "It's got all to do, ye nut ! If a gang of us goes to 
 the next Town Council meeting, as we gotta right to do, 
 an' tells Ben Card that if we get a schoolhouse in the 
 fall in this district, we vote for him, an' if we don't git 
 a school we don't vote for him, there'll be somethin' 
 doin'." 
 
 They all laughed. It seemed to be a good joke to 
 play on Ben Card. 
 
 "Go to it, Patsy!" urged one of them. 
 
 "You tell 'em the plot, will ye, Patsy?" 
 
 "I'll tell it to 'em all right if ye'll get a gang to go 
 down wit' me. We might git up a good foight, 
 mebbe," he added, happily. 
 
 The idea took hold. The promise of trouble was an 
 inducement anything to break the monotony. Patsy 
 found himself possessed over night of a new following 
 which was quickly dubbed, "Patsy's army."
 
 ioo THE THRESHOLD 
 
 How they marched in, a hundred strong upon the 
 slumbrous town meeting, is history in Farwell. How 
 Patsy made a speech, ending up with these words: 
 
 "We're a peaceful, law-abidin' community in the fac- 
 tory district; enjyin' all the privileges of our free coun- 
 try, such as foine streets, an' water works that works 
 now an' thin, on alternate Thursdays; our parks an' 
 churches in the district would be a pride to any place, 
 but phwat we dropped in to call yer attention to, is that 
 with a population of 432 children, under factory age, 
 we've no public school fer thim to go to, where they 
 can learn to be mayors or councillors. If ye cud be 
 a-remedyin' this little oversight by September, Mr. 
 Chairman, we'd be willin' to let things be as they are 
 but otherwise we'll be lookin' fer a more public spirited 
 candydate fer Mayor." 
 
 The excitement caused by this speech, punctuated by 
 laughter and applause from his army, was undeniable. 
 The Chairman attempted to call attention to the delay 
 necessary to provide a building, but Patsy suggested the 
 use of the long vacant Union Church building, and 
 after considerable argument the meeting adjourned 
 with the promise of the Council to consider the idea. 
 Patsy was appointed on a committee to investigate and 
 report to the next monthly meeting. 
 
 The boys of "the army" led him triumphantly off to 
 Grady's to drink his health and laugh over the dismay 
 on Ben Card's face, during Patsy's remarks. 
 
 "The kids'll get their school all right. We'll call it 
 the 'Patsy Rafferty' !" cried Klovatski. 
 
 Patsy refused the opportunity to get drunk in cele- 
 bration. He walked home by himself, elated and 
 happy. He wondered what that girl from the Hall 
 would say about it? Then he laughed up at the stars.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 101 
 
 Patsy Rafferty on the Mayor's Committee, an impor- 
 tant and responsible citizen! The idea amused him 
 greatly. Then the boy in him cropped out, and he 
 added joyously. 
 
 "Gee ! It'll make Larsen sore !" 
 
 "Is that you, Patsy?" whispered his mother as he tip- 
 toed in. 
 
 "Yep." 
 
 "Did ye go to the meetin'?" 
 
 "I did." 
 
 "What did ye do?" 
 
 "Give 'em some of my lip !" he teased her.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE days ran by so swiftly and happily for 
 Joan that she scarcely noted their going and 
 coming. The common anxiety they had 
 shared on the occasion of the picnic had brought Greg- 
 ory into the friendly triumvirate. They were all 
 friends now, on a plane of comfortable give and take. 
 If Dick's devotion showed signs now and then of be- 
 coming too personal, Joan was clever enough to get it 
 back into the key where she felt it belonged. It was no 
 part of her plan to let the boy fall in love with her. 
 
 Gregory saw the danger, too, and watched her 
 manoeuvreing with interest and some amusement. He 
 thought it might be very good for Dick to fall in love 
 with her, but evidently she did not intend to allow that. 
 He entirely forgot that one of his strictest requirements 
 of Miss Earl was that the mistress of Farwell Hall 
 must not be alluring to Dick. However he had forgot- 
 ten most of the qualities demanded of Miss Earl's can- 
 didate. 
 
 The autumn brought long hazy days when the three 
 of them motored far over the countryside sometimes 
 for two or three days. They took long rides on their 
 horses, or Gregory refereed their tennis games. They 
 were well matched and good to watch, in their fierce 
 fights. Joan gave Dick real battle and he lived in 
 daily fear that she would beat him. If Gregory so 
 much as veered toward Joan's advantage, in a decision, 
 they both fell upon him. 
 
 102
 
 THE THRESHOLD 103 
 
 "A fair field and no favour here," Joan would shout 
 at him. 
 
 Both men found her sensible, good tempered and 
 companionable. They grew to take her for granted, 
 in the comfortable way of men. As for Joan, at peace 
 with herself in regard to her real work, as she still 
 called it, sure that her best service would come in the 
 education of Dick, she had come into a belated girl- 
 hood, freed of anxiety, of struggle. For these happy, 
 luxurious months, she played with Dick for companion, 
 like a light-hearted girl. 
 
 The ease and the outdoor life gave her such health 
 as she had never known before. It expressed itself in 
 pink cheeks and shining eyes, as well as in unflagging 
 good spirits. Her laugh was everywhere. Just as 
 her body and spirit were being fed, so now was that 
 power in her, which for lack of a better word we call 
 magnetism, growing stronger and more impelling. 
 Both men felt it Gregory gave voice to it on a day 
 when he came upon her swinging up the road by her- 
 self, singing aloud. He walked his horse up behind on 
 the grass, not to interrupt and when srhe turned to him 
 and laughed: 
 
 "Is that horse rubber-shod?" 
 
 "I didn't want to interrupt the concert," he replied. 
 
 "You can't say I sing around the house and spoil 
 things for you I do all my carolling out on the road." 
 
 "Why don't you sing at home? . . . I we'd like 
 it." 
 
 "Dick heard me once. He advised me not to take 
 it up as a career." 
 
 "The young cub!" 
 
 "I love his frankness." 
 
 He dismounted and walked along beside her.
 
 io 4 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "Why do you walk on this dusty road?" 
 
 "I've been to the village." 
 
 "Why didn't you ride or take a motor?" 
 
 "Thought it would do me good to walk. I'm get- 
 ting such habits as will be the ruination of me. Mo- 
 tors and horses for the likes of me 1" 
 
 "I am sure they were made for the likes of you. 
 Want a ride?" 
 
 She considered a moment then nodded, and was up 
 in the saddle, sitting sideways, before he could offer a 
 a hand to mount her. 
 
 "You're a disconcertingly independent young per- 
 son," he remarked, leading the horse along slowly, let- 
 ting him nibble a branch now and then. 
 
 "Am I ? Do you like them helpless?" 
 
 "Them?" 
 
 -Usfemales" 
 
 "Even the helpless ones aren't are they?" 
 
 She smiled at his puzzled face. 
 
 "Women, even stupid ones, always seem to know just 
 what it is they want, and they go after it. Men are so 
 apt to drift I can't imagine you drifting." 
 
 "But I've known since I was eight years old, what it 
 was I had to do. How could I drift, when there was 
 so little time?" 
 
 "There you are ! My contention is that even the 
 women who only want husbands, don't drift husband- 
 wards they rapidly and determinedly paddle in that 
 direction." 
 
 "Why not it's the only way to get what you want." 
 
 "Suppose you don't want to get anything, except the 
 essence of joy out of every day?" 
 
 "You have to be rich and lazy, to get that."
 
 THE THRESHOLD 105 
 
 He laughed and led the horse down >a path into the 
 woods. 
 
 "Do you know how changed you are?" he inquired* 
 as the horse stopped to nibble grass. 
 
 "Am I ?" anxiously. 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "Well when you came you were a determined, ef- 
 ficient, rather fierce young woman but now you are so 
 comfortable on occasions you are so charming!" 
 
 Her laughter startled the horse, who lifted his head 
 and walked on. 
 
 "Men are such precious things!" was her disconcert- 
 ing reply. 
 
 He jerked the bridle and halted the march. 
 
 "Precious?" he objected. 
 
 "Yes precious gullible naif! I'm revolutioniz- 
 ing you all the time, only now I've learned how to do it, 
 without making so much noise. That is what life at 
 the Hall has taught me. There is no real value in 
 noise." 
 
 "Are you revolutionizing me?" he inquired then 
 after a contemplative pause "I wonder?" 
 
 They sauntered along slowly in silence for a bit, 
 while Gregory digested that remark. 
 
 "I'll grant you're making a new man of Dick; I admit 
 the system you've installed in the house, but I didn't 
 know you had turned your attention to me yet. I'd 
 been hoping you would." 
 
 "It's what you might call my indirect attention. It's 
 like indirect influence." 
 
 "At least you do not despise my uselessness so 
 forcibly as you did at first."
 
 io6 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 She turned her frank gaze on him, her face full of 
 concern. 
 
 "What an abomination I must have seemed to you ! 
 Why didn't you send me packing?" 
 
 "I don't know why I didn't," he replied. 
 
 "I've grown to understand your point of view better, 
 now that I've lived your kind of life. Don't you be- 
 lieve it would settle every fight in the world, if every 
 fellow could live the other fellow's kind of life for a 
 while?" 
 
 "It would be almost more painful than the ills it was 
 meant to cure," he said, with a rueful face. 
 
 "If this were not such a perfect day and I were not 
 so content, I would wish you were not so stand-pat," 
 she mused aloud. 
 
 It was after that talk that Gregory began to show 
 interest in Dick's education. He read some of the 
 books that Joan had provided, and Dick left lying 
 about. There was nothing feminine in the fare she 
 fed him nor did she let him off when he slacked, as his 
 tutors always had done. But the astounding thing was 
 that for the most part he did not slack. 
 
 When Gregory suggested a two weeks' motor trip 
 through the Berkshires, they both assured him that they 
 could not spare the time. 
 
 "But you aren't going to enter him for exams until 
 spring, are you?" he inquired of the teacher. 
 
 "No, but as he has never learned anything, we have 
 about ten years' work to do in that time. It is almost 
 winter now six months is only a minute." 
 
 "Now aren't you sorry you never would study, 
 Dick?" 
 
 "No why should I waste all that time, when she 
 can put me through it in a year?" grinned the boy.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 107 
 
 "It's marvellous how you keep him at it!" 
 
 "I don't keep him at it. It's his responsibility, not 
 mine. I only work when he wants to " 
 
 "That true, Dick?" 
 
 "Sure she's put it all up to me," sighed the student. 
 
 "It's worked out very well. He knows what he has 
 to do he is old enough to concentrate, he has a good 
 mind, and he can go ahead very fast. He may be right 
 about those years when he wasted time. It may have 
 been a good thing." 
 
 "Isn't she great?" Dick appealed to his uncle. 
 "That's the way she gets me to grind on, like this. She 
 may get me in with honours. Probably kill those old 
 entrance deans with the shock of a Farwell entering 
 with honours!" 
 
 "Have you an antidote for his modesty, Miss Bab- 
 cock?" 
 
 "He has six months of good hard work to his 
 credit," she defended him. "Six more and we'll be 
 getting somewhere." 
 
 "Six months and I'll be one of the natural leaders of 
 thought in America " remarked Dick sweetly. 
 
 "Instead of the world record-beater for ignorance at 
 seventeen," amended Joan. 
 
 So things went on smoothly enough at the Hall, but 
 in the village there was no such harmony. Joan's 
 casual word to Patsy Rafferty about the schoolhouse 
 had brought after it a comet's tail of consequences. 
 
 The committee which the Mayor had appointed, 
 with Patsy as a member, had reported fully and favour- 
 ably on the possibilities of getting Union Church ready 
 for a schoolhouse in the fall. They gave an estimate 
 of the expense of repairs, and the salary of a teacher. 
 
 But after the report was turned in, nothing hap-
 
 io8 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 pened. Whenever Patsy asked for the Mayor's inten- 
 tion, in private conversation, or whenever he demanded 
 it, in meetings of the Town Council, he was called out 
 of order or silenced in some summary manner. The 
 Town Council meetings began to be exciting. The fac- 
 tory men came in larger numbers and grew more un- 
 ruly. Finally one night things came to a climax, and 
 there was a general mix-up. At the next meeting the 
 Mayor ordered the factory men excluded whereupon 
 they overran the guards at doors and windows and 
 broke up the meeting. 
 
 Patsy was not satisfied with these proceedings. He 
 saw that it was only leading to jail for his men, and 
 in no way furthering their object. So after much 
 thought on his part and much discussion among his 
 fellows, they decided to go in a body and offer to back 
 the Republican nominee for Mayor, if he would give 
 them a promise in writing that they should have the 
 schoolhouse subsequent to his election. Patsy and a 
 committee visited him, and after consultation with his 
 managers, he took up their offer. Patsy's committee 
 was to organize the factory men into a solid vote. 
 
 Once this news got abroad, Mayor Ben Card woke 
 up. He sent for Patsy, but Patsy did not come. 
 Then he went to see the Irishman, in his own bailiwick. 
 He assumed an injured air. What was this news he 
 heard of the factory boys supporting the opposition 
 candidate? 
 
 "You had your chance an' you trew it away," replied 
 Patsy. 
 
 "You sold out after me puttin' ye on that commit- 
 tee?" demanded the Mayor. 
 
 "I told ye the price av our votes was the schoolhouse.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 109 
 
 When we found you wouldn't pay it, we got a candidate 
 that would. That's all." 
 
 "But, Patsy, I was only makin' up me mind " 
 
 "Ye had two months to make up yer moind. Ye 
 can't put over annything on us, ye know, Ben we ain't 
 fools." 
 
 "What'll ye take to get the boys back into line fer 
 me, Patsy?" Ben said softly. 
 
 "How would ten thousand dollars suit ye?" grinned 
 the boy. 
 
 "Quit yer kiddin', Pat" 
 
 "Quit it yerself, Ben. We're through with you an' 
 your gang. It's time we had a change in Farwell." 
 
 "Ye durty black Irish whelp, ye !" roared the Mayor. 
 "You get in my way an' I'll break you!" 
 
 Patsy laughed, and the Mayor saw red. 
 
 "Be careful, Ben you're liable to bust!" he warned. 
 
 "I'll bust you!" shouted Ben. 
 
 "No, ye won't ye can't do it, an' ye know it, ye great 
 big noise I Ye'd better make frinds with me, Ben, be- 
 cause the byes will do loike I tell 'em because why? 
 because I got some brains. That's why I got the laugh 
 on you, Ben, because your coco's empty! Go 'way 
 now, an' lave me think!" 
 
 The big man rose to go. He was shaking with fury. 
 He started to speak, but the boy's grin fairly choked 
 him. This was his parting shot: 
 
 "I'll get you, Patsy, and don't ye fergit ut!"
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 JOAN came into Mr. Farwell's study, and laid a 
 ledger open before him on the desk at which 
 he sat. 
 
 "Here are the accounts for the last month, Mr. Far- 
 well. Will you look them over?" 
 
 "Thank you. Have you looked them over?" 
 
 "Naturally. I entered them." 
 
 "Then I do not need to bother with them." 
 
 He glanced at the figures. 
 
 "You reduce the amount every month, don't you?" 
 
 "We're getting the departments systematized 
 that's all." 
 
 "Even Mrs. Craddock?" 
 
 "No I must omit Mrs. Craddock. Her mind re- 
 sists system as a hard rubber ball resists a dent," Joan 
 answered seriously. 
 
 "Aren't you afraid Craddock will put poison in your 
 tea ?" he mildly suggested. 
 
 "You should watch me at table. I never eat any- 
 thing which could possibly have been prepared by Crad- 
 dock," she smiled. 
 
 "Is she disagreeable to you?" 
 
 "Oh, no, she doesn't like me but it isn't necessary 
 that she should." 
 
 "Do you enjoy all this detail?" he asked her. 
 
 "No, I hate detail but I like organizing things." 
 
 "And people?" 
 
 no
 
 THE THRESHOLD in 
 
 "And people. Do you remember my telling you 
 that I wanted to take Dick over the factories at Far- 
 well?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Will you give me a card of admission to the proper 
 person?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 He wrote the card and gave it to her. 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 "You think Dick's judgment is of value, on con- 
 ditions in Farwell? Or is it his emotions you intend to 
 appeal to?" he inquired gravely. 
 
 "I've tried to give him some background of judg- 
 ment, in the few months I've had with him. I've never 
 said one passionate word to array him on my side 
 I've been absolutely square with him," she answered. 
 
 "I am sure of that. I only want to remind you that 
 there is danger of rousing ignorance and misdirected 
 enthusiasm. Dick has no word to say as to the man- 
 agement in Farwell, until he is of age." 
 
 "I understand that. I don't want him to interfere or 
 become a nuisance about it, I only want him to see 
 things as they are, to meet the men and women who 
 work for him, and hear their point of view. Is that 
 too much, do you think?" 
 
 "I've no desire to hamper Dick, you understand. I 
 am only warning you that he is passionate and head- 
 strong that you may start something you can not 
 stop." 
 
 "Thank you. I take the responsibility." 
 
 The conversation apparently ended there, but Joan 
 felt that it was not finished until late in the evening of 
 that day. She was finishing a letter in her room, when 
 Dick's shout from the terrace called her to the window.
 
 ii2 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 It was a clear autumn moonlight night, and the two 
 men were pacing up and down. 
 
 "Come out, it's wonderful," Dick urged. 
 
 "All right be down in a minute," she answered. 
 She picked up her white sweater and slipped it on over 
 her white dress. As she came across the flagged ex- 
 panse, Dick exclaimed, 
 
 "She looks like Queen Mab, doesn't she, Uncle 
 Gregory?" 
 
 The elder man smiled. 
 
 "Slid down on a moonbeam, eh, Poet?" he teased 
 the boy. 
 
 "A trifle insecure for my weight," laughed Joan. 
 
 "You wasted a lot of time indoors," complained 
 Dick. 
 
 "I had a letter to write, Dick." 
 
 "You always have to do something. I wouldn't 
 have your conscience for anything on earth." 
 
 "Nor I yours, my child. I conceive your conscience 
 to be a flabby little affair, dying of fatty degeneration," 
 she retorted. 
 
 Gregory chuckled at Dick's "Ouch!" 
 
 "I bet yours is a long-legged, lean nag of a thing, 
 worked to the limit. What do you suppose Uncle 
 Greg's looks like?" Dick continued. 
 
 "A dimple 1" said Joan instantly, rewarded by their 
 shout of amusement. 
 
 "She thinks we're awful slackers, you know, Uncle 
 Greg." 
 
 "Does she?" 
 
 "If I don't look out, she'll make a working man of 
 me. What do you suppose she's going to do with me 
 tomorrow?" 
 
 "My imagination fails me."
 
 THE THRESHOLD 113 
 
 "Take me over our factories in Farwell, and intro- 
 duce me properly to our employes !" 
 
 "H-m!" 
 
 "Better come along." 
 
 "No, thanks." 
 
 "The smells would kill you. Uncle Greg is death 
 on smells. He always makes Jergens shoot through 
 Farwell-" 
 
 "Don't make my case out worse than necessary, Boy. 
 Miss Babcock despises my way of life sufficiently as 
 it is." 
 
 Joan turned toward him quickly, her eyes shining. 
 
 "Indeed indeed, I don't despise it. Everybody 
 ought to be able to live their own way," she said. "I 
 shouldn't presume to criticize your way." 
 
 "I never thought much about it, Uncle Greg, until I 
 began to read all these books and things. Do you 
 know about modern factory equipment about the ad- 
 vantage of the short day and the increased efficiency of 
 the workman who has decent conditions of living?" in- 
 quired Dick. 
 
 Gregory stared at his nephew, blew slow rings of 
 smoke into the air above him, before he answered. 
 
 "No, I do not know about these things the human 
 problems have never interested me especially, you see. 
 I have no place in the world in which I find myself a 
 world of brutality, of greed, and of materialism. I 
 conceive all its standards to be false. I will not belong 
 to a world which can only express itself through money 
 and power and publicity. What place has beauty in 
 such a scheme of things ? Look at the art of the times 
 at the music at the poetry! Brutalized deca- 
 dent! I'll have nothing to do with it, since I cannot 
 change it. Don't tell me I can do my part," he ob-
 
 ii4 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 jected, as Joan exclaimed "one individual a thou- 
 sand individuals can do nothing the whole fabric of 
 life must be changed before existence can be endurable 
 on this planet." 
 
 He stopped a second and there was silence. "I pre- 
 fer to have my life like this night calm, beautiful, re- 
 mote. The world is shut out." 
 
 "But it cannot be like that there are many stormy 
 nights. What do you do then?" asked Joan. 
 
 "I go inside, draw down the blinds and remember 
 the nights like this." 
 
 They all looked about at the white radiance 
 breathed in the autumn smell of burning leaves and lis- 
 tened to the night sounds. Dick stirred uneasily. 
 
 "I think I'd rather jump in, and smash things up and 
 get 'em fixed to suit me better," he said earnestly. 
 
 Farwell looked at Joan. 
 
 "You have an apt pupil ! Smash away, Dick, if 
 you must, but remember that you'll do no good that 
 it will be unchanged, in spite of you unless you live to 
 see a new age." 
 
 "He is the new age don't you see?" cried Joan. 
 "We're all called to account some time for our steward- 
 ship we can't escape by saying we're born out of our 
 time." 
 
 "You think the individual counts, then?" inquired 
 Farwell. 
 
 "I think if every man helped one other man who 
 needed him, we could make a new world." 
 
 "But if the man who was helped was no good had 
 always to be carried what then? Better to let the 
 present system crush him out, isn't it?" 
 
 "Certainly not. It's like saying don't bother to im- 
 prove prisons because some of the men are hopeless
 
 THE THRESHOLD 115 
 
 criminals. How can you say or how can I say, what 
 a world run on the principle of brotherly love could do 
 to humanity?" 
 
 "It seems such a dream to me that I would not think 
 of saying what it might do," remarked Gregory. 
 
 "It isn't such a dream the germ of it is in the world 
 now Dick and I may help with it." 
 
 "But how can you bring about brotherly love by con- 
 tention and strikes and bad feeling between employers 
 and labour? I think you said that might be neces- 
 sary," Farwell remarked. 
 
 "I admit that's a blunt weapon, but the soldier must 
 fight with what he finds at hand. Sometimes a thing is 
 justified merely because it focuses attention upon a 
 wrong. That's what a strike does. It isn't my way 
 but it is one way." 
 
 "What is your way?" asked Dick. 
 
 "I'd appeal to the sense of fairness and justice and 
 decency of the man who has the power. I'd show him 
 it was better business to give labour a fair deal and 
 decent conditions. Isn't it better to rouse his highest 
 instincts, to do the square thing, than to rouse labour's 
 worst instinct to fight and destroy, in order to get its 
 rights?" 
 
 "But why should all the virtues be assumed by the 
 capitalist?" inquired Farwell. 
 
 "Because he has the ultimate power to solve the 
 whole situation. He will get back what he gives, in 
 friendliness, instead of hatred, in good service, instead 
 of bad. It isn't a theory, Mr. Farwell, it's a fact, 
 proved over and over again in this country. Look at 
 the results in the factories of Henry Ford, the National 
 Biscuit Co., The National Cash Register Co., Filene's 
 Dry Goods Store in Boston, in the many co-operative
 
 n6 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 experiments all over the United States. It's just com- 
 mon sense." 
 
 "I'm going to have a look at those places," Dick said. 
 
 "Dick, it is four years before you can revolutionize 
 the works down in Farwell," smiled his uncle. 
 
 "I can get all ready, so the minute I get my innings 
 I can do something," replied Richard. 
 
 "The wise young Judge a Daniel come to Judg- 
 ment " Gregory exclaimed. 
 
 "Dick, if every boy in the world could say tonight 
 what you just said, the new world would be begun," 
 Joan said, so seriously and tenderly that the lad's 
 whole being answered her. 
 
 "Oh, if I could only get your new world for you, I 
 would!" 
 
 "Adam was the first man, Dick, who got a new world 
 for a lady." 
 
 "Oh, Adam!" exploded Dick "he was a fool!" 
 
 They all laughed, and Gregory added, "O youth 
 youth thy god-like folly !" 
 
 "No no thy God-given valour!" said Joan. 
 
 Gregory turned his face toward her again. 
 
 "I withdraw in favour of your God !" he observed. 
 
 "Well," said Dick, "I'm going to bed and get a good 
 night. I can't understand half you two say. I've got 
 to get my rest, for maybe I'm going to be a loving cap- 
 italist after tomorrow." 
 
 "Amen," Joan exclaimed. 
 
 The boy said his goodnight and left them. 
 
 "Honourable Enemy, the first honours in the fight 
 are yours, I should say," Gregory remarked. 
 
 "Hear the truth for the truth shall set men free!" 
 was her answer. 
 
 They walked up and down the terrace for half an
 
 THE THRESHOLD 117 
 
 hour in silence, enjoying the night with its enchantment. 
 Now and then Gregory glanced at the quiet figure be- 
 side him, her face lifted to the stars, her attention rapt, 
 "on some diviner thought intent." He made note of 
 her charm, when she was at peace and s'lent.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 * 4 ^V~1T THAT time does your 'Seeing-Farwell' ex- 
 
 \/\/ pedition start?" inquired Gregory at 
 breakfast. 
 
 "About ten, doesn't it, Miss Babcock? Are you 
 coming along, Uncle Greg?" 
 
 "No, my child, I'm not. It is a good day to spend 
 indoors with an open fire, to my thinking. You won't 
 like it, Dick. There's no romance in Farwell." 
 
 "I'm not looking for romance," Dick burst out indig- 
 nantly. "What do you take me for a sentimental 
 puppy?" 
 
 Gregory smiled and the conversation ended. But 
 when they set forth at the appointed hour he called 
 them a "Good luck, Samaritans," from his corner by 
 the fire. 
 
 It was a bleak grey day, with the first nip of winter 
 in the air. The dead leaves blew and rustled, in whirls 
 of dust. The motor ran swiftly but the ride seemed 
 longer than usual. Dick chatted along, but Joan had a 
 sense of finality such as she had known before in her 
 life, when some experience was over and done with. 
 Summer, this perfect summer of all summers, was dead. 
 Did Gregory prophesy truly that Dick's initiation might 
 start something they none of them could stop? She 
 wished she had his philosophy of drifting. 
 
 "Have you ever seen Saunders, the head superin- 
 tendent at the works?" Dick was asking. "He seems 
 
 118
 
 THE THRESHOLD 119 
 
 to me a kind of human machine. He's got a shut- 
 up face." 
 
 "I know he isn't very well liked by the factory 
 hands." 
 
 "Do you know them the hands, I mean?" 
 
 "Yes a good many of them. I want you to know 
 them you'll like them. There's a fellow named 
 Patsy Rafferty, whom you are sure to like. He's about 
 your age and rather like you, in some ways." 
 
 "What does he do?" 
 
 "He's a carder, and he supports his mother and six 
 or seven children. But he's what I call a natural 
 leader. He's leading a fight against the Mayor just 
 now, and what they're pleased to call the School Com- 
 mittee, to get a public school for the factory kids." 
 
 "Haven't they got a school?" Dick demanded. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "But why not?" 
 
 "The workers have been too busy to demand it, I 
 suppose. They can't understand yet, how valuable 
 education is to their cause. But Patsy's got them 
 started he'll get it put through, I think." 
 
 "Is this where they live, in these rotten shacks?" 
 
 "Yes this is the Raffertys' where all the children 
 are out in front we'll stop on our way back," Joan 
 said, "and call on Mrs. Rafferty." 
 
 "Does the company own these shacks?" Dick de- 
 manded. 
 
 "Yes. But the agent won't keep them in repair, and 
 so they've gone to pieces rather. You'll see, when 
 you get inside, that they're rather far gone." 
 
 "Who's the agent?" 
 
 "I don't remember. Mrs. Rafferty will tell you." 
 
 They drew up before the door of the main factory
 
 120 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 building. It was the old type, with wings added here 
 and there without regard to appearances. Other 
 buildings grouped about it, with no apparent order. 
 The trees had been cut down, and the grass was burned 
 up and trampled, so there was no green on which to 
 rest the eye. 
 
 Mr. Saunders greeted them sourly, in his office. 
 He thought the inspection was the whim of a boy, who 
 had no business to take up his time. He wasted none 
 of it upon social amenities, but led the way out at once. 
 
 Dick's impression from this time on was blurred and 
 indistinct. He was conscious first of noise, grind- 
 ing, crushing, unescapable noise. Monster machines 
 crowded together like elephants in a herd they bel- 
 lowed and squeaked and trumpeted. The men who 
 served them and fed them went quickly among them, 
 at their work of tending. The room was artificially 
 lighted by great high-powered arc-lamps which added 
 a piercing light to the nerve strain. There was the 
 sense of crowding, of men and machines shouldering 
 each other in too close quarters. There was a fine dust 
 in the air that made you cough. There were some 
 places where only men worked, some where only 
 women fed the open maws. Dick, on this first visit, 
 got no sense of them as individuals. They were just 
 human machines, feeding the others. 
 
 He heard Joan asking Saunders questions, some of 
 them evidently irritating to him, for he answered 
 brusquely. In one of the buildings, she asked to see the 
 wash-rooms provided for the girls and suggested that 
 Dick look at the men's. Saunders said that the em- 
 ployes didn't like to have visitors taken into those 
 rooms, which were reserved for their use but Joan 
 was insistent that Mr. Farwell had said they might see
 
 THE THRESHOLD 121 
 
 everything. So Saunders complied. When she met 
 Dick and their guide after her brief review of the lava- 
 tory for girls, she saw that Dick's experience had been 
 as painful as hers. She asked Saunders if there was 
 any place in any of the buildings where the employes 
 could gather. 
 
 "What would they gather for?" he demanded. 
 
 "Oh, some factories have lectures for the workers, 
 or meetings of heads of departments to consult with 
 their people " 
 
 "Well heads of departments don't consult the 
 workers here. This is a shop not a club," was his 
 answer. 
 
 It seemed to Dick that hours of distress had passed 
 before they got back to the crowded little hole Saunders 
 called office. He mumbled a few words of thanks, to 
 supplement Joan's remarks, and they were out in the 
 raw, rubbish-laden wind that swept about the yards. 
 
 Joan saw that Dick was used up she had never seen 
 him look like that. He was perfectly white. He 
 caught her anxious glance. 
 
 "The noise and those lights were awful!" he ex- 
 plained. She nodded. Jergens brought the car up 
 to them. 
 
 "Shall we go home or do you want to stop in the 
 village and meet my friends?" she asked Dick. 
 
 She saw his look of longing at the car it meant es- 
 cape. Then he shrugged his shoulders and faced her. 
 
 "Let's walk over to those Raffertys. Jergens, go to 
 the station at Farwcll, we'll pick you up when we want 
 to go back." 
 
 Jergens promptly disappeared. Joan repressed the 
 desire to say "Good work!" to the boy. She led the 
 way down the dirty path that cut across lots to the cot-
 
 122 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 tages. In a moment the noon whistles would blow, 
 and she wanted to be at the Raffertys' when Patsy came 
 home for his dinner. 
 
 "Are they always as noisy as that?" Dick asked her. 
 
 "No there's always noise in factories, of course, 
 but they are making devices now to cut it down. It 
 wears the workers out so fast nervously. The new 
 type factory handles that problem better." 
 
 "And those lights " he protested. 
 
 "They were bad. The new type is nearly all win- 
 dows, so they rarely need electricity. Daylight is 
 cheaper, in the end, because that arc-light is bad on 
 eyes and nerves." 
 
 "It got on my nerves, like the devil !" 
 
 As they came to the cottages, women and children 
 called out to Joan and she gave them greetings. At the 
 Raffertys' she was surrounded by the dirtiest set of 
 youngsters imaginable. They hung on to Joan and put 
 their dirty paws on her clothes. Dick wondered how 
 she could bear it. In answer to the uproar of greet- 
 ings, a fat, red-faced woman appeared at the door 
 and beamed on the new comers. 
 
 "Good mornin' to yez, Miss Babcock, an' to you, 
 Mr. Norton, sir," she called. 
 
 "She knows me," said Dick, in surprise. 
 
 "Naturally, silly. They all know you. We've been 
 over to have a look at the factories, Mrs. Rafferty, and 
 we want to make a short call on you before we go out 
 to the Hall." 
 
 'Tis welcome ye arr, to me humble cot," laughed 
 Mrs. Rafferty, leading the way into the parlour. It 
 was a cold, damp place, with old wall paper, faded and 
 dirty, hanging off in strips. It was furnished with 
 rickety furniture of unspeakable hideousness and con-
 
 THE THRESHOLD 123 
 
 siderable age. Some of the dirty children crowded 
 in after them. 
 
 "We ain't got the fires started yit it do be a bit 
 chilly," said the hostess. 
 
 "Take us into the kitchen, Mrs. Rafferty, do. It's 
 warm in there and so comfortable." 
 
 "I couldn't be takin' Mr. Norton into the kitchen," 
 protested Mrs. Rafferty. 
 
 "Oh, do I'd like it," Dick exclaimed. 
 
 "Come along wid ye, thin," laughed the Irish 
 woman and led the way back through the uncarpeted 
 hall to the kitchen, which at least was warm. It was 
 also redolent of onions, past and present. There was 
 a table with a red table cloth, where Pat was to have his 
 dinner. There were indications that some of the Raf- 
 fertys slept here, too. It needed paint and paper and 
 a new floor. 
 
 "How many children have you, Mrs. Rafferty?" 
 Dick inquired, as the number of staring eyes at windows 
 and doors increased. 
 
 "I've six of me own the rist is neighbours," she 
 replied, driving them off. 
 
 "Isn't this house rather small for you?" he con- 
 tinued. 
 
 "Faith an' it is but what's to be done about it? 
 Patsy is me only bye at work an' we can't pay a cint 
 more of rint," she said cheerfully. 
 
 Just then the whistle blew, and she rose at once. 
 
 "D'ye moind if I dish up fer Patsy? He's got his 
 job back an' he don't want to be docked, fer bein' late." 
 
 "Go ahead, Mrs. Rafferty. We'll only stay long 
 enough for Mr. Norton to meet Patsy. Come over 
 here, Dick, and watch them come home for dinner," 
 said Joan, leading him to the door.
 
 i2 4 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 The procession seemed a long one men and boys, 
 women and girls, swinging or hobbling or limping 
 along as the case might be. Some of the boys were 
 pushing each other, laughing and "rough-housing." 
 They called out jokes to the girls, who answered shrilly. 
 Dick realized that they were just people; they were 
 being regurgitated from the mouth of the monster, to 
 get food and strength for themselves, so they could go 
 back and be fed to it again. 
 
 "They seem a cheerful lot," he commented in aston- 
 ishment. 
 
 Before Joan could answer Patsy stumped in, and 
 stopped at the sight of visitors. 
 
 "How are you, Patsy?" said Joan. "I want you to 
 meet Mr. Norton." 
 
 "How are you, Mr. Rafferty?" said Dick, holding 
 out his hand. 
 
 "Patsy's me name," said the other, taking it. 
 
 "Ye're to go ahead wit' yer dinner, Patsy, Miss 
 Babcock says," remarked his mother. 
 
 "Sure, I'll go ahead," was his answer. 
 
 He went to the sink and performed a hasty and un- 
 abashed toilet, talking as he did so. 
 
 "Seen ye at the fact'ry. First toime I seen ye 
 there," he remarked. 
 
 "First time I've been there," Dick answered. 
 
 "Some swell joint, ain't it?" 
 
 "Nothing to brag about." 
 
 "Dick never was in a factory before," Joan said. 
 
 "Mother o' Mike! Ain't that quare now, an' my 
 Patsy brought up in ut, as ye moight say." 
 
 "I'm glad av ut," said her son, briefly. 
 
 "How about the school, Patsy?" Joan inquired.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 12$ 
 
 "We'll git ut. The byes have got their mad up 
 about ut, now." 
 
 "When is the election?" 
 
 He told her the date and the arrangement they had 
 made with the Republican candidate, and how Ben 
 Card had sworn vengeance on him, Patsy Rafferty, all 
 while he absorbed his loud-smelling dinner, with an 
 avidity and swiftness appalling to the onlookers. Dick 
 tried not to watch him, but it hypnotized him. "Hog !" 
 was the word that leapt to his lips, and yet he liked 
 that frank, freckled face. He liked the fellow's lack: 
 of "side," his ease of manner. They had found him 
 in a situation he could not change, so he made no apol- 
 ogy for k. There was something upstanding and 
 self-respecting about the whole thing. After all, table 
 manners were not essential. 
 
 Joan asked Patsy about his feud with Larsen, and 
 he laughed and told her they "had fixed it up and Lar- 
 sen took him on again." This led to the story of the 
 fight, and Dick's enjoyment of it helped the two boys 
 on to a comfortable footing. Patsy tried to get Dick's 
 ideas on the factory, but Dick did not commit himself. 
 
 "I never saw one before and I have to think about 
 it," he explained. 
 
 "Better come down an' take a job. Ye'll larn quite 
 a bit about fact'ries an' other things, too " laughed 
 Patsy. 
 
 Joan saw from Dick's startled glance that that shot 
 home. She rose. 
 
 "Well we must run along. Hope we haven't up- 
 set your dinner too much, Mrs. Rafferty," Joan apol- 
 ogized. 
 
 "Divil a bit. Meals happens whin they happens in
 
 126 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 this house, 'ceptin' fer Patsy," said that good-natured 
 soul. 
 
 "See you before the election, Patsy. I hear you've 
 done great work in organizing the thing," Joan said. 
 
 He grinned, without reply. 
 
 "Good-bye, Mrs. Rafferty. I'm coming again," 
 Dick remarked, "if Miss Babcock will bring me." 
 
 "Come without her." 
 
 "May I? Thanks." 
 
 The Raffertys laughed. As they departed, Mrs. 
 Rafferty said to Patsy. 
 
 "Ain't he got grand manners?" 
 
 "Yes, an' an empty nut. 'Niver saw one before 
 got to think about ut,' sez he." 
 
 "Give 'im toime, Pat. He ain't had your advan- 
 tages," said his mother quite seriously. 
 
 They made one other stop, at a house in worse re- 
 pair than the Raffertys'. There was an old sick 
 woman, alone there. Her daughter worked in the fac- 
 tory and had gone back. The old lady was fluttered 
 to have Dick come into her room. Joan led him about 
 the tottering old shack before they left. She made no 
 comments none were needed. The places were ob- 
 viously not fit for human habitation, that was all she 
 wanted him to see. 
 
 Mr. Farwell had finished his lunch when they got to 
 the Hall. So they had theirs alone, and rather a 
 silent meal it was. Dick's mind reverted to Patsy's 
 smelly repast, and the delicacies the cook sent up for 
 them seemed unbearable. 
 
 "The hopeful thing about all this," said Joan, aware 
 of his depression, "is that so much can be done to make 
 conditions better. It doesn't have to be like that
 
 THE THRESHOLD 127 
 
 that's what makes life worth living, Dick, the thought 
 that we can change it." 
 
 He glanced across the table to her and spoke ear- 
 nestly. 
 
 "We will change it, of course. But don't hate us 
 because we haven't done it before, will you?" 
 
 "Dear boy of course not. Now this is what I ask 
 you to do not to take it too hard. It is not quite so 
 dreadful to those people as it seems to you because 
 habit deadens sensibilities somewhat. Just think that 
 with patience and study and understanding we can 
 change the whole scheme." 
 
 When they found Gregory in the library he lifted 
 a quizzical glance to them. 
 
 "Well, children, how endeth the first lesson?" 
 
 "Cut it out, Uncle Greg. I don't want to think 
 about it, or talk about it. Let's get the 3 o'clock to 
 New York and take Miss Babcock to a show," cried 
 the boy passionately. 
 
 Gregory's lifted eyebrows were turned to Joan. She 
 nodded. 
 
 "Good idea, Dick! Let's take him up, Mr. Far- 
 well," she said enthusiastically. 
 
 "Delighted," replied that gentleman. 
 
 She had always refused their invitations to go to 
 New York before, so Dick turned to her gratefully. 
 
 "You'll go? Bully! I'll tell Jergens!" he cried 
 and plunged out of the room, but not before they both 
 heard that sob in his throat.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE New York party was a great success. 
 Joan was deposited at an hotel, while Dick 
 and Gregory were to spend the night at one 
 of the latter's clubs. Joan plead a mysterious errand, 
 as soon as they arrived in town, so they left her, to be 
 called for later, in time for dinner "at the gayest place 
 we can find," as Dick put it. 
 
 Joan went to a big shop, as direct as a moth to a 
 flame. The problem of her clothes in the country had 
 not troubled her. But she was determined that her 
 host should not be ashamed of her, on this her first ap- 
 pearance with him in a public place. She intended to 
 invest some of her savings in a proper frock, and she 
 did. The fact that she fell into the hands of an intelli- 
 gent clerk, who led her to the Misses' Department and 
 sold her a white chiffon gown and a soft green velvet 
 cape for what Joan had expected to spend on the dress 
 alone, has nothing to do with the story. She had a 
 real thrill over her first white satin slippers, and she 
 went back to the hotel treading on air like a vain young 
 peacock, and not a bit like one consecrated to big causes. 
 She found that Dick had sent her a stiff, old-fashioned 
 bouquet of tiny yellow-pink roses, in a paper holder, 
 with long tulle streamers of green. She looked upon 
 it with admiring awe, because it was her first bouquet. 
 
 When she came toward Dick and his uncle in her 
 finery, she was rewarded for her efforts to do them 
 
 128
 
 THE THRESHOLD 129 
 
 proud. She held her bouquet in one hand and her 
 green coat floated behind her. Gregory looked really 
 startled and Dick became incoherent. 
 
 The party from that time on, was never-to-be-for- 
 gotten by any of them. Dick threw himself into the 
 occasion with an abandon which made Joan's throat 
 ache, because she knew he was running away from 
 Farwell. Gregory exerted himself, and was, as al- 
 ways, the perfect host. As for Joan, she fairly danced 
 through the evening the dinner seemed to her perfec- 
 tion, the play delightful, the, supper club amusing. 
 
 "You have made Dick's party a great success," 
 Gregory said, as they left her. 
 
 "I? Oh I've only just been along!" she pro- 
 tested. 
 
 "You have been the party!" Dick exclaimed. 
 
 The next morning Joan went to see Miss Earl and 
 took the noon train to Farwell. The men followed 
 later, arriving for late tea. Dick seemed restless and 
 upset. She tried to be very gay and diverting, but she 
 could not hold his attention. Finally he burst out 
 
 "Look here, you two I want to say something." 
 
 "I think we would better not listen, Miss Babcock. 
 He's been on some mysterious errand all day " Greg- 
 ory began. 
 
 "I saw one factory in New York and two on Long 
 Island " Dick interrupted him. 
 
 They both looked at him in surprise, and Joan 
 started to speak, but he silenced her. 
 
 "I know you don't want to hear about yesterday, 
 Uncle Greg, and I'm not going to be a bore about it. 
 But I didn't sleep last night and I'll tell you what I 
 want to do " 
 
 "Go ahead, Dick," encouraged his uncle.
 
 130 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "I went to look at some real factories and now 1 
 know what we're doing in Farwell " he said hotly. 
 
 "I want to remind you that you have nothing to say 
 about what they are doing in Farwell, for several years, 
 Dick." 
 
 "I shan't butt in at least, I think I shan't. But 
 when I get my chance at it, I'll raze every building 
 and shack there to the ground." 
 
 "You may change your mind in four years." 
 
 "I don't want to argue with you, Uncle Greg. You 
 see it your way and I see it mine. What I want to do 
 is to go to Detroit and Dayton, Ohio, and see the Ford 
 factories and the Cash Register factory. I want to 
 know what they do in the best of 'em all." 
 
 "I see no objection to that, do you, Miss Babcock?" 
 replied Gregory. 
 
 "No it's a good idea, Dick." 
 
 "I want to take somebody with me " 
 
 "You mean Miss Babcock?" smiled his uncle. 
 
 "No a fellow who works down in our shops " 
 
 "Patsy?" demanded Joan. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Oh, Dick!" she exclaimed with pleasure, which 
 Gregory could not understand. 
 
 "What's this?" he inquired. 
 
 "There's a young fellow named Patrick Rafferty. 
 I met him yesterday. If I'm going to train for em- 
 ployer, I'd like him to train for superintendent. We 
 might just as well begin together." 
 
 Joan got up and moved away to hide the tears that 
 came to her eyes. She wanted to go and put her 
 cheek down on Dick's curly mop of hair and say, 
 "Good work, Boy " but instead she rang for the tea 
 things to be removed.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 131 
 
 "How long a tour of inspection are you planning?" 
 Gregory asked. 
 
 "We could do it in a week Pat would have to be 
 back for the election in Farwell." 
 
 "Upon my word, Miss Babcock, your pupil comes on 
 fast. Election in Farwell? What do you know about 
 that?" amusedly. 
 
 "It's important to get a new mayor and Patsy is 
 running the factory men's organization. They want a 
 public school " 
 
 Gregory laughed. 
 
 "Take care, Dick a little learning is a dangerous 
 thing! Better keep your Pat out of the way over 
 elections, if he's Irish and an organizer." 
 
 "I want to take some money from my savings bank 
 to pay our expenses," Dick continued. 
 
 "You could hardly expect me to finance an expedi- 
 tion so sure to result in my own inconvenience," agreed 
 Gregory. 
 
 "You've no objection, Uncle Greg?" 
 
 "None. When do you start?" 
 
 "As soon as Pat can get off." 
 
 "Do I have to write Saunders to give him a vaca- 
 tion?" 
 
 "No Patsy'll attend to it himself, thanks," Dick 
 answered and went out. 
 
 "Well, here's the first move, Miss Babcock. Did 
 you suggest this idea?" 
 
 "No I never thought of such a thing." 
 
 "You approve of it?" 
 
 "Oh yes it is splendid of Dick to take hold this 
 way. I was afraid the whole thing had sickened him 
 but this is a better scheme than I could have de- 
 vised."
 
 132 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "Who is this boy? You know him?" 
 
 "Yes, he is a very talented lad a born leader with 
 a genius for organizing. He's only a couple of years 
 older than Dick, but he's a marked man in Farwell 
 now." 
 
 "What does he do in the factory now?" 
 
 "He's a carder supports his mother and six chil- 
 dren. He has a brain, which he uses, coupled with 
 magnetism and wit." 
 
 "Is he a trouble maker?" 
 
 "I suppose you would call him that," she admitted. 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 "You don't organize people to be resigned you 
 organize them to protest." 
 
 Gregory considered for a moment. 
 
 "Will you remind Dick, when it is necessary, that 
 I do not intend to put up with any interference in 
 factory affairs, from him or from any acquaintances he 
 may make in the village?" he said quietly. 
 
 The result of the conversation was that Dick and 
 Patsy went on their pilgrimage. How the details were 
 managed, what passed between them, Joan never knew. 
 The day of their departure, she, together with Mrs. 
 Rafferty and such friends in the town as were not at 
 work in the factory, saw them off. It was the one topic 
 of conversation, and as Patsy and Dick both refused 
 to gratify curiosity as to their purpose, Joan was as- 
 sailed as authority. She was glad to tell the truth 
 about it that she knew literally nothing about their 
 plans. 
 
 The two boys, in the meantime, omitted all the pre- 
 liminaries to getting acquainted. Dick's frank expla- 
 nation of his plan and his need of an informed com- 
 panion had prejudiced Patsy in his favour, at once.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 133 
 
 He repeated Dick's estimate of him "He's got no 
 'side' that fella!" The trip interested him, and he 
 saw a chance to be useful to his followers so he ac- 
 cepted at once broke the news to Saunders that Dick 
 had commandeered his services, and the deed was done. 
 
 In the days of close companionship that followed, 
 they grew to know each other very well. Dick had 
 never had a friend in a boy of his own age and he 
 found himself admiring Patsy enormously. The Irish- 
 man had a vast storehouse of experience to draw from, 
 he had been hand to hand with life from early boyhood. 
 He knew the game he knew the motives that moved 
 people, while Dick knew nothing of his kind. 
 
 But unlike most of his class, Patsy had no scorn for 
 the other boy's way of life. He was, in fact, deeply 
 interested in the tale of Dick's wanderings. They 
 swapped stories by the hour, on the train, and enjoyed 
 each other, like schoolboys. 
 
 In the factories which they visited, Patsy's accurate 
 knowledge of working conditions and the men's needs, 
 was of great help. Dick took notes on everything they 
 saw collected literature on it. He was absorbed in 
 the idea of the new type shops. They talked to the 
 men, who answered Patsy freely. They discussed 
 Union organization and open shop they inquired into 
 working men's insurance schemes and pension funds. 
 They investigated the best type of homes for working 
 people. It was a week crowded to the guards with 
 events and ideas. 
 
 All the way back on the train they worked over the 
 data they had collected. 
 
 "I wish the whole factory district could be burned 
 down!" exploded Dick. "It's the only way I can see 
 to do anything with it."
 
 134 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "Here you have ye got no regard for the prop- 
 erty of others? D'ye want the Rafferty silver and 
 linen an' gran' clothes to be a total loss?" 
 
 "No I don't want anybody to lose anything but 
 gee ! it's a sin to let the old rat-trap stand another 
 day." 
 
 "I'll git the militia out ag'inst you, ye riotin', law- 
 breakin' employer!" laughed the other boy. 
 
 They had planned their return, so they would get 
 into Farwell late Saturday afternoon, before the elec- 
 tion polls closed. Dick was in full possession of the 
 facts in the case of Patsy versus the Mayor, and he was 
 accordingly interested in the outcome of the election. 
 They arranged that he was to telephone the Hall that 
 he wouldn't be home until late, and he was to be in on 
 any disturbance which might enliven Saturday evening 
 always a festive occasion in a factory town. 
 
 They got into New York late and missed a connec- 
 tion, so that they actually disembarked in Farwell about 
 half past seven, after the polls had closed. The streets 
 were crowded with noisy, frequently drunken people. 
 Patsy was the middle of a circle as soon as they ap- 
 peared on the street. The news was hurled at them 
 from all sides. Ben Card, at the last moment, had 
 papered the town with floaters saying that if he were 
 re-elected, the factory district would get its school in 
 thirty days. He had sent his men to work with the 
 factory boys and here and there money had changed 
 hands. 
 
 The opposition candidate made the new school one 
 of the important issues of his platform, and feeling 
 in the camps had been running high all day. It was 
 said that Ben Card had sworn in sixty special police,
 
 THE THRESHOLD 135* 
 
 with orders to use their clubs, if there was any trouble. 
 Patsy listened, asked questions, got some order from 
 their chaotic answers then he began to dart in and out 
 of the crowd, making for Grady's saloon, which was 
 headquarters for the factory men. Dick followed at 
 his heels. 
 
 The saloon was crowded and Dick was not noticed. 
 Patsy, every bit the general, got the report on his army. 
 With few exceptions, the men had stood by their pledge 
 to support the Republican. It was said that Ben Card 
 was mad and meant trouble. 
 
 The vote from some of the smaller districts of the 
 town began to come in mostly for Card. The men 
 listened a second, then the din went on. A boy ran in 
 with word of a fight down on Main Street, and the 
 saloon was cleared, as by magic. The crowd ran, like 
 dogs in a pack, Dick and Patsy with the rest. 
 
 As they turned into Main Street they heard as well 
 as saw the fracas. Cat-calls and hoots greeted the 
 special police, but when they began to use their clubs, 
 the sound changed to one of rage. Patsy made for 
 the storm centre, Dick beside him. 
 
 "There he is get him I" shouted a voice. 
 
 Dick turned, just as a big fellow grabbed Patsy. 
 
 "Ye're arrested!" cried the Special. 
 
 "Go on what for?" objected Patsy. 
 
 "Fer incitin' to riot," answered the big one, giving 
 his arm a twist. 
 
 "That's a lie!" yelled Dick. 
 
 Somebody hit him a whack behind the ear and he hit 
 back. 
 
 "Run 'em both in !" yelled the voice of authority. 
 
 Patsy was still himself.
 
 1136 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "Ye're makin' a mistake on this, Ben, take it from 
 me ! This is Dick Norton from the Hall ye're runnin' 
 in!" 
 
 "Tell your jokes to the policeman, Patsy," said Card. 
 Thereupon the two specials hustled the boys off toward 
 the town jail, but not without a fight. Dick resisted 
 furiously and nearly got away, but a second deputy 
 came to the aid of his guard. As they caught him, 
 he got a glimpse of Patsy's encounter. 
 
 "Hit him in the eye, Pat kick him in the stomach!" 
 urged Dick. 
 
 A blow on the head from a club settled his part of 
 the controversy, but Patsy was badly beaten up before 
 the two boys were locked in jail.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 UNFORTUNATELY for Patsy, and perhaps 
 unfortunately for Farwell, Card won the elec- 
 tion. It was probably a fraudulent victory, 
 but Farwell was apathetic and it stood unchallenged. 
 The arrest on Election Night might have been a much 
 more serious thing for the Mayor's enemy than it 
 proved, because as soon as it was discovered who 
 Patsy's companion was, the boys were released, the 
 matter was hushed up. It was the end of it so far as 
 the Irishman was concerned, but Dick's sense of jus- 
 tice was so outraged at the treatment of his friend, 
 that he insisted upon arraigning the Mayor for false 
 arrest. The boys proved their case, the Mayor was 
 fined and reproved by the Judge. But the important 
 point was that they made a bitter enemy of Ben Card. 
 He marked them both for vengeance. 
 
 Gregory was enraged at having to go to town, to bail 
 Dick out, to appear in court at the subsequent pro- 
 ceedings, and worst of all, to having the affairs of his 
 family on every tongue. He complained briefly and 
 succinctly to Dick. He warned him that he could not 
 be relied on, to come gracefully to the rescue when 
 Dick got into scrapes. Dick must manage to keep out 
 of jail. 
 
 "Very well, Uncle Greg," Dick answered quietly. 
 
 He found a sympathetic listener in Joan. He 
 poured out to her his indignation at the way Patsy 
 had been attacked.
 
 138 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "Why, if I hadn't happened to be with him, he says 
 there's no knowing what Card might have put over on 
 him." 
 
 Joan nodded. 
 
 "And they've elected that chump again. The fac- 
 tory men didn't stand by Patsy after all, or Card 
 couldn't have won. I think they sold him out !" body. 
 
 "Possibly. He wasn't there to keep them up to the 
 point they don't really care so much about the school, 
 most of them, and Card probably offered them 
 money " 
 
 "Well, but that's bribery!" 
 
 "So it is, but have you ever thought what a few dol- 
 lars extra mean to some of those men? They're not 
 used to standing together on things probably Card's 
 men caught some of them after they were drunk " 
 
 "Are you excusing them for selling Patsy out?" he 
 demanded. 
 
 "No only explaining to you that the selling of votes 
 is not the crime to a foreign-born labourer that it is 
 to you. His vote is bought from the time he takes out 
 his citizenship papers until he dies, usually. That's the 
 way our American politicians train citizens." 
 
 "It's rotten!" 
 
 "Granted." 
 
 The trip of inspection had faded into the background 
 beside this later experience, but Joan managed to get 
 full details of it finally. She felt that like the first day 
 in the factory, the initial effect of what he saw and 
 heard in the model factories simply stunned him. The 
 transformation necessary to make Farwell even ap- 
 proximate the new type was overwhelming. He re- 
 peated to her his belief that the only way was to burn 
 down the present buildings and begin on a new plan.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 139 
 
 "One of the things we must remember, is that we 
 can't go too fast, that we can't change it all at once, 
 Dick. You know what the Farwell conditions are, 
 you know what ideal conditions are, now your four 
 years must be put in, devising ways to make the change 
 without upsetting your own interests or that of the 
 workers. Suppose you turned all the people in the 
 factories out of their homes and out of their jobs 
 what then?" 
 
 "But four years ! Do you want those people to 
 go on living like rats for all that time?" 
 
 "Yes if it means a real and permanent change at 
 the end of it not just an upheaval. You can't expect 
 to make Mr. Farwell or Saunders see things our way 
 we must wait for your majority." 
 
 "I think Uncle Gregory ought to be forced to look 
 into it." 
 
 "It can't be done." 
 
 "Can't it? I'm not so sure !" 
 
 "Careful now, Dick you'll only spoil everything if 
 you try to take a hand in it now. Study and watch 
 and wait until you've got it worked out, and then we'll 
 do something." 
 
 "You talk like an old granny!" 
 
 "It's not my native tongue I'm speaking, Dick. But 
 you would never have known about Farwell, if I hadn't 
 waked you up to its needs. I don't want to come into 
 this house and be friends with you all and then use 
 you as a dynamite bomb to throw into the midst of 
 your uncle's business. Can't you see how I feel about 
 
 it?" 
 
 "I think Uncle Greg's comfort has been considered 
 long enough the comfort of some of those others 
 ought to be thought of," he replied hotly.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "I just ask you to use your head, Dick, and not go off 
 half cocked." 
 
 "Don't you worry," he reassured her. 
 
 He did not consult her about a visit he paid to Greg- 
 ory's study, carrying the collection of facts and plans he 
 had acquired on his trip. 
 
 "Uncle Gregory, I'd like to show you some of this 
 stuff we got on the trip," he began. 
 
 "Much obliged, Dick. If it is facts about factories, 
 I'm afraid I'm not much interested." 
 
 "Just look at this cut of this place, though " 
 
 "Um hideous architecture always, isn't it?" 
 
 "But look at the windows look at the gardens and 
 lawns about it." 
 
 "Very nice." 
 
 "Wouldn't you like Farwell to look like that, Uncle 
 Greg?" 
 
 "I can't say I would." 
 
 "Do you like to have the people who support you 
 live in rat holes?" hotly. 
 
 "No I like not to think about it at all. Don't bore 
 me with it, Dick." 
 
 "Good Lord!" said Dick, with such scorn and con- 
 tempt as only youth can know. Gregory flushed hotly 
 as the boy left him, then he sighed, finally he smiled 
 very faintly. 
 
 To Dick the interview was intolerable. He went 
 for a long ride all by himself to think it over, ending 
 up with a call on Mrs. Rafferty, and a subsequent talk 
 with her son. 
 
 "He isn't willing to do a thing he won't look at the 
 plans, or hear about them," he explained in despair. 
 
 "We'll have more toime to work on the idea he
 
 THE THRESHOLD 141 
 
 may not let ye do anything even when ye do git to be 
 head av the company," he added. 
 
 "He's got to!" 
 
 "I always heard he had a will " 
 
 "He has, but so have I. When I inherit, I'll run 
 it Besides, I'm right and he's wrong." 
 
 "Ye want to git all the facts there is to git, an' 
 mebbe ye can coax him with 'cm." 
 
 "That's Miss Babcock's way, too, but it's so slow." 
 
 "Aisy does it, Dick. There's no rush " 
 
 "Do you know what I'm going to do?" 
 
 "I do not." 
 
 "I've thought it out this afternoon. Uncle Gregory 
 thinks I'm nuts on this thing and that after a little I'll 
 cool down and forget about it. Well, I'll show him. 
 I'm going to make Saunders give me a job." 
 
 "Doin' what?" 
 
 "Whatever you did, when you began." 
 
 "But what's the idea?" 
 
 "I want to know the people that work for us; I want 
 to know what they do and what they need. I want to 
 learn the thing from the bottom to the top " 
 
 Patsy whistled a long low tone. 
 
 "Say " he remarked " there's nothin' to this em- 
 ployer game you belong with us. You're a foighter, 
 ye arr!" 
 
 "Well I'm going to see Saunders in the morning." 
 
 "With a note from Mr. Farwell?" 
 
 "Note nothing. I'm not going to tell Uncle Greg 
 till it's all settled." 
 
 "Mebbe ye'd better tell 'im first," advised Patsy. 
 
 "Nope I've decided on that." 
 
 "What does Miss Babcock say?"
 
 142 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "She doesn't know. I tell you, I only thought of it 
 this afternoon." 
 
 "Tell her she's got sinse." 
 
 "She'll try to stop me." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "She don't want to make trouble for Uncle Greg." 
 
 "Is she stuck on him?" 
 
 "Lord no but she's got some idea of being re- 
 sponsible about me. Rubbish, I tell her." 
 
 " Well I dunno's they could stop ye, if ye want 
 to earn yer six dollars a wake," grinned Pat. 
 
 The interview between Saunders and Dick next day 
 was unsatisfactory in the extreme, from the boy's point 
 of view. Saunders refused to do anything about it 
 until he had orders from Mr. Farwell that Dick was 
 to have a job. Dick assured him that he was not a 
 child that he was a free-born American citizen with 
 a right to a job, if he could get it. But Saunders re- 
 marked that he wasn't running a kindergarten, that it 
 was bad business to take him on for a few weeks, until 
 he got tired of it. There was no need for him to learn 
 the business that way, etc., etc. Dick left in high 
 dudgeon and betook himself to the Hall. 
 
 He had to curb his impatience until lunch, as Joan 
 was busy and his uncle not at home. He wanted a 
 full audience when he exploded his bomb. When they 
 were finally served to lunch and the butler gone, he 
 began. 
 
 "Miss Babcock, would you mind if we had lessons at 
 night?" 
 
 "Not at all, Dick, but" 
 
 "That's all right, then. I intend to take a job in the 
 factory during the day time " 
 
 "What's all this?" inquired Gregory.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 143 
 
 "I asked Saunders for a job today. He won't give 
 it to me until you tell him to, so will you call him up and 
 give him orders to take me on?" 
 
 Gregory laughed. 
 
 "What do you propose to do? More factory in- 
 vestigations?" 
 
 "I intend to learn the business, from the bottom 
 up." 
 
 "Have you given up college?" amusedly. 
 
 "I haven't decided that yet " 
 
 "Oh, but Dick, you mustn't give it up," cried Joan. 
 
 "I shall go on preparing just the same," he replied 
 testily. 
 
 "Was Saunders enthusiastic over your idea?" in- 
 quired Gregory. 
 
 "He was not. He is a very objectionable person." 
 
 "Shall you report our terrible factory conditions to 
 the factory inspectors, Dick?" his uncle continued. 
 
 "I expected you to laugh at me," the boy replied 
 hotly. 
 
 "I don't mean to laugh. I just want to get at your 
 motive." 
 
 "I want to understand the workers and find out what 
 they need," his nephew answered. 
 
 "You don't see any way to manage it, but this rather 
 theatrical idea?" 
 
 "I don't see anything so theatrical about it " 
 
 "What do you think about it, Miss Babcock?" 
 
 "Of course I know it won't hurt him, to try his hand 
 at a real job, but if it means his giving up college, I'd 
 oppose it violently." 
 
 "Why are you so set on college? You don't think 
 much of Harvard you said so." 
 
 "Oh, no, I didn't, Dick. I said I wasn't sure it was
 
 144 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 the best place for you. But of course, you must go to 
 college. You aren't prepared to do anything yet 
 you're just a young uninformed boy, not ready to ap- 
 proach any of the big problems." 
 
 "Well, I'll go to college all right," he agreed, irri- 
 tatedly. "What I want now is to get this job." 
 
 "The whistle blows at 7 :3O, Dick. You don't break- 
 fast until nine," remarked Gregory. 
 
 "Don't you worry about my breakfast!" 
 
 "Seven-thirty to six are the hours." 
 
 "If they can do it, I can." 
 
 "They're trained to do it." 
 
 "Then I'll be trained, too." 
 
 "Is this your Patsy's idea?" 
 
 "No, it isn't it's my own idea. Don't you think 
 I ever have an idea?" 
 
 "I admit you have them queer ones." 
 
 "I don't care what you think about them ! Will you 
 get me the job, or won't you ?" 
 
 Gregory saw the boy was excited and nervous. 
 
 "If you and Miss Babcock both think that this is a 
 necessary part of your education, I shall not oppose it, 
 Dick. But I think I ought to have your promise that 
 you will not stir up dissatisfaction among the workers. 
 There are some phases of the business that have not 
 come under your attention yet, and it is important that 
 we have no trouble at this time." 
 
 "I'm not going to stir up trouble what do you take 
 me for?" the boy demanded. 
 
 "For a very trying student of sociology!" his uncle 
 smiled, as he went off to telephone Saunders.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE Farwell factories manufactured coarse cot- 
 ton cloth. The industry was fairly evenly 
 divided between men and women, although in 
 some departments the workers were entirely of one 
 sex. There was no really skilled labour required, 
 consequently wages were low. Futile efforts to organ- 
 ize among the workers had always ended in disaster 
 for them, so a certain amount of peace had endured 
 for two years, following the last abortive attempt to 
 unionize. 
 
 Saunders, up from the ranks himself, disliked and 
 distrusted employes. He ruled with an autocratic 
 hand, with power unlimited, because Mr. Farwell could 
 not and would not be troubled with factory details. 
 According to his lights he served Mr. Farwell well. 
 He was honest and conscientious. It was unimportant 
 to him, whether the men and girls liked him or not; the 
 point was whether their output was up to the mark. 
 
 He listened to Mr. Farwell's request that he take 
 Dick on, he agreed with his belief that it would be 
 for a brief period only. Mr. Farwell had no objec- 
 tion to the boy getting a good dose of it he suggested 
 that Saunders keep an eye on him, and not let any senti- 
 mental notions about the workers and their conditions 
 interfere with discipline. Mr. Saunders thought he 
 could manage that. It was with a certain grim satis- 
 faction that he determined to set Dick to work carding 
 cotton. 
 
 US
 
 146 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 Dick presented himself about nine o'clock of his first 
 day. He wore riding clothes, as he had come in town 
 on his horse. 
 
 "Going to start in today?" Saunders inquired. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Work begins here at eight o'clock." 
 
 "I know that. I thought since I had to learn what 
 to do and how to do it today that I might as well come 
 late." 
 
 "Better get some overhalls put 'em on in the lava- 
 tory. The foreman will give ye a locker. Then come 
 back here." 
 
 Dick obeyed orders and returned in a flannel shirt 
 and overalls, such as all the men wore. Saunders 
 scarcely looked at him. He summoned the foreman. 
 
 "I want you to put Norton to work at a carding ma- 
 chine. He'll begin at six dollars a week. There will 
 be no difference between him and other men in the 
 shops," was his brief direction. 
 
 Dick went out with the foreman and into the inferno 
 of noise and lint-choked air, and shrill lights which 
 he remembered so vividly. The floors shook with the 
 rumble of the elephants, and the keepers crowded each 
 other as before. He was put to work under the direc- 
 tion of a man named Chech, a Slav. All morning he 
 followed the big fellow up and down watching the 
 process. At the end of two hours, when the whistle 
 blew, Dick was fairly sick from noise and bad air. He 
 followed the crowd into the open. He was conscious 
 that they looked at him he nodded to the men he 
 knew and went on. Patsy caught up with him. 
 
 "Hello, Dick." 
 
 "Hello, Pat." 
 
 "How did it go?"
 
 THE THRESHOLD 147 
 
 Dick turned a white face on him. 
 
 "I suppose I'll get on to it. The noise and light and 
 that stuff that makes you choke is is the limit!" 
 
 "You'll get used to it. Yer feet will about kill ye 
 fer a whoile, but ye'll git over that, too. Where ye 
 goin' to eat?" 
 
 "I don't think I want anything today. I'll bring 
 my lunch from home tomorrow." 
 
 "Come on home wit' me. Ye gotta ate to kape up 
 that job." 
 
 "But I" 
 
 "Niver moind there's plenty av stew an' the ould 
 woman ull be glad to see ye." 
 
 So Dick went home with Patsy. Mrs. Rafferty gave 
 him a hearty welcome, swept a few children out of the 
 way, gave him a seat, and ladled out corn beef and 
 cabbage and onions for him, with a generous hand. 
 He performed his ablutions at the sink, using the Raf- 
 ferty towel. He sat at the table and choked down the 
 ill-smelling food, whenever Mrs. Rafferty or Patsy 
 looked in his direction. 
 
 "Ye're kind av played out at foirst I remember 
 how Patsy was but ye git used to it," encouraged his 
 hostess. "Eat hearty now, ye gotta kape yer stringth 
 up." 
 
 "Oh, I am," he assured her. 
 
 She gave him a cup of coffee, black and poisonous, 
 which he drank. Their kindness and their sympathy 
 braced him up, and when the whistle blew he went back 
 with Patsy, feeling better. The first hour passed; 
 during the sc.cond hour his teacher tried him out the 
 third hour he took over his job. Up and down, up and 
 down he walked, feeding this never-satisfied ogre. 
 There was no interest in it, no diversity, just back and
 
 i 4 8 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 forth, like a horse on a treadmill, carding the cotton. 
 
 His feet were swollen and every step hurt him, his 
 bones ached and he coughed incessantly with the lint 
 in his nose. As time wore on the noise seemed to grow 
 louder and louder he was sick at his stomach and 
 wracked with thirst. He staggered up and down, up 
 and down, thinking each trip that he could not do it 
 again. He wanted to cry or to faint, he didn't care 
 which. But his subconscious mind kept telling him 
 that he was on trial, the men were watching him if he 
 couldn't hold out until the whistle blew they would 
 laugh at him he would be disgraced. On and on 
 again, in aching torment! 
 
 After ages of it, he saw signs of special agitation 
 about him a whirr then silence, his machine stopped 
 all the machines stopped. 
 
 "Here, you time to quit," called the man who had 
 been his teacher. 
 
 He went out when the others went, stumbling along, 
 hardly knowing where. The men got their caps and 
 hats from lockers and Patsy helped him get his overalls 
 put away and his coat and cap on. 
 
 "Played out ain't ye? I know. Better come 
 home with me and rest a bit " 
 
 "I think I'd better get home," said Dick thickly 
 adding, "Drink?" 
 
 Patsy gave him water out of a dirty cup. The 
 others hurried out and the two boys were almost the 
 last to leave the building. Patsy was guarding his 
 friend from any Inspection or joshing. Over in front 
 of the Raffertys they could see a runabout. 
 
 "Miss Babcock's at our house," he exclaimed. 
 "Come on." 
 
 He led Dick slowly and in silence. Joan saw them
 
 THE THRESHOLD 149 
 
 coming and came to meet them. She winced at sight 
 of Dick's white, suffering face. 
 
 "Hello there," she called briskly. "I'd no idea you 
 were going to begin your job today. I thought it was 
 tomorrow." 
 
 Dick shook his head. Tomorrow that had to be 
 faced tomorrow ! 
 
 Joan went on chaffing Patsy and making Mrs. Raf- 
 ferty laugh ignoring Dick entirely. 
 
 "Jergens brought me in, in the runabout and rode 
 your horse out to the Hall. Do you mind taking me 
 home in this?" she said finally. 
 
 He got in painfully and she followed. She called 
 their good-byes to the Raffertys as Dick started the car. 
 Outside the town she said, 
 
 "You've got the wrong kind of shoes on, and Mrs. 
 Rafferty said you did not eat any lunch." 
 
 He made no answer. 
 
 "Tomorrow I'll bring your lunch in to you, or send 
 Jergens with it. Nice air, isn't it? ... Want me to 
 take the car? I can on this road." 
 
 He shook his head and they went on in silence. His 
 set face looked ahead, up the road, and he let the car 
 out to forty miles. He knew he could hold out to get 
 to the Hall, if they hurried. When they stepped onto 
 the veranda Joan noticed that he moved slowly and 
 painfully. 
 
 "Hot bath, Dick, and bed. I'll send up your din- 
 ner." 
 
 "No, thanks," with dignity. 
 
 He laboured up the stairs without a groan, and Joan 
 could not see for tears. Gregory came upon her, her 
 swimming eyes lifted to the boy's departing back. 
 
 "Dick?" he said.
 
 150 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 "Is the boy all right?" anxiously. 
 
 She nodded again. 
 
 "Then why ?" he inquired gently. 
 
 "Oh I don't know" she evaded. "He's a fine 
 boy Dick," she added pointlessly. 
 
 Dick came into the room, after Gregory and Joan 
 were seated at dinner. He walked with the same care, 
 but his pallor was supplanted by a high flush. 
 
 "Well, Dick, I hope you bring home a working 
 man's appetite," was Gregory's greeting. 
 
 "Sorry to be late," the boy apologized to Joan. 
 
 She nodded and took full charge of that dinner. 
 She talked and laughed and told stories, she managed 
 to get Gregory started on tales of adventuring in far 
 places she watched Dick all the time without looking 
 at him, and protected him every minute. After the 
 first two courses he began to listen and pay attention. 
 Then she teased him about something, made him retort, 
 induced him to laugh. His colour went down and his 
 eyes were less bright. 
 
 Gregory watched the entire performance with in- 
 terest and understanding. He could see that the boy 
 had had a hard day he was perfectly willing to assist 
 Joan in her efforts to entertain him. He thought she 
 rather spoiled him women always would spoil him. 
 Considering that she approved of this nonsense, she 
 seemed to be getting very little satisfaction out of the 
 experiment tears first, and now this deliberate effort 
 to enchain Dick's attention. 
 
 He saw the boy draw Joan's arm through his as they 
 went to the living room. He smiled at her, like a 
 grateful puppy. Once comfortably settled she put 
 Dick's favourite records on the victrola.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 151 
 
 "Is Dick being especially petted tonight?" Gregory 
 inquired wickedly. 
 
 "I don't know are you, Dick?" 
 
 "Hadn't noticed it." 
 
 In the middle of the second tune he went to sleep. 
 So Joan made an excuse for going out of the room. 
 She called to him and he stumbled out to her, stiffly. 
 
 "Bed now. I'll have you called at six?" she in- 
 quired. 
 
 "Yes. And and thanks," he added. 
 
 "I know all about it, Dick. I congratulate you," she 
 said proudly. 
 
 "It's just hell !" the boy answered and went upstairs. 
 
 "Did you get him off to bed?" Gregory smiled as 
 she re-entered the room where he read. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You aren't enjoying this state of his initiation?" 
 
 "No I know what it means the first weeks in a 
 godless industry like that " she began and stopped. 
 
 "What does it mean?" he inquired. 
 
 "It would not interest you," she answered "it's 
 ugly and brutalizing." 
 
 "But you wanted Dick to go through with it?" 
 
 "I wanted to be sure Dick could !" 
 
 "And are you sure?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "It shows 'the stuff he's made of isn't that the 
 phrase?" 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 "You don't forget that I'm very fond of Dick, do 
 you?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "I know you're fond of him, too." 
 
 "Very."
 
 152 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "We're both proud of him when he does well?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "There's always a reservation in your voice ? There 
 were tears in your eyes, when he went upstairs." 
 
 "I know. Isn't it ridiculous? I want him to do 
 this I admire him for it and and it nearly 
 breaks my heart to see him suffer under it," she burst 
 out. 
 
 "That's just woman, isn't it?" he smiled. "You 
 would better have left him to me in my world only 
 ugliness can make us suffer." 
 
 "I like him better fighting ugliness." 
 
 "I suppose you do," with a sigh. 
 
 "The ugliness of Farwell will make you suffer, and 
 fight, too, when it is finally registered on your senses." 
 
 "Are you threatening me?" he smiled. 
 
 "Farwell is beginning to creep up the hill to you 
 it is beginning to pull you down the hill to it you can't 
 be safe much longer " she answered seriously. 
 
 He watched her go, with his amused smile.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE three or four weeks that followed upon 
 Dick's first day in the factory were, in all 
 probability, the most important weeks of his 
 life. In them he proved to himself that he could en- 
 dure hardships and acute physical discomfort. He 
 found that he could give up all the things which had 
 hitherto made life worth living and it was still worth 
 living. 
 
 That he stuck it out was not due to any heroic senti- 
 ments. His young, half-baked enthusiasm had hurled 
 him into a situation which was very uncomfortable, but 
 his pride made him see the thing through. Patsy and 
 Joan and Uncle Gregory must be made to respect him. 
 That was really the thought that kept him at work. 
 There were many days when it just barely sufficed, as 
 a goad, but as time went on, and he began to adjust 
 himself to his job, he grew more and more glad that 
 he had a chance to make good. 
 
 As the weeks grew into months he found that the 
 slight suspicion of his motives which the men had shown 
 at first, melted into friendliness. They began to under- 
 stand that he had not come among them as a spy, but 
 as a comrade. Patsy managed to interpret him to 
 them, in the beginning, and later he needed no go- 
 between. 
 
 His initiation was a painful awakening to the grim 
 realities for this undeveloped, care-free boy. He had 
 
 153
 
 154 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 never known discomfort, nor an ungratified desire. 
 Here he was suddenly transported into a world where 
 discomfort was the a-b-c of living. He learned the 
 terror of the man or woman of the unskilled class, of 
 "losing the job." It was the ghost that haunted them. 
 It was the king that ruled them. They endured any- 
 thing rather than risk unemployment. 
 
 As time went on he made friends with some of the 
 girls who worked in the shop. They were shy with 
 him at first, but his straightforward friendliness won 
 them in the end. He neither guyed them, nor courted 
 them, as the other men did. He talked to them as if 
 they were any women whom he might meet. He did 
 not share Patsy's disdain of them, any more than he 
 did the frankly expressed lust of the flesh, of the other 
 men. 
 
 That it was all sordid, ugly and sickening, was his 
 first feeling about Farwell then came the real prob- 
 lem, the first one he had ever attacked how to make it 
 better. 
 
 Joan often came in and had lunch with him, in the 
 big, empty factory hall. Thermos bottles and a char- 
 coal stove had solved the problem of a nutritious, hot 
 lunch, and it appeared daily. Sometimes, Patsy joined 
 them, often one or two of the girls were asked to stay. 
 They all considered it next in distinction to being 
 entertained at the Hall. It was during these hours 
 that Dick got his first-hand knowledge of things, and 
 often the glimpse into the needs of the whole com- 
 munity would come through the inadvertent remark of 
 one of these guests. 
 
 "It's sickening, the way they all take it for granted 
 that when they're fourteen, they get shoved into this 
 hole. From that time on they live in the terror
 
 THE THRESHOLD 1551 
 
 of getting shoved outl" Dick said to Joan, one day. 
 
 "Yes it's too bad we can't put off their conscrip- 
 tion until they are sixteen. Some places in the South, 
 the working age is eight, Dick!" 
 
 "It makes you see red!" 
 
 "There's a growing sentiment about that once the 
 public gaze fastens on an abuse it stops," Joan re- 
 plied. 
 
 She found herself in the strange position of holding 
 on with might and main to a force which she herself 
 had set in motion. In her wildest dreams she had 
 never hoped to see Dick at work in the factory. A 
 year ago it would have seemed a triumph. Then there 
 was in her mind a distinct line of cleavage. On one 
 side was labour, with its needs and its abuses; on the 
 other, capital, with its power and its greed. They were 
 enemies, definitely lined up against each other. She 
 had graduated during her college course, from the 
 camp of those who believed that fight, and eventually 
 industrial war, was the only solution of the difficulty, 
 into the group of soberer thinkers who hoped to show 
 that since the aim of capital and labour was the same 
 namely, production to the nth power, that a way 
 could be found for them to work in amity. 
 
 But the months spent at Farwell Hall with these two 
 delightful men, had somewhat blurred the issue. She 
 detested Gregory's selfishness, but she had come to 
 understand it. Dick's ignorance was too obvious to 
 need mention. She lashed herself at the thought that 
 the luxury of their living had influenced her judgment. 
 She could not believe so ill of herself but certain it 
 was that she did not want to precipitate catastrophe 
 into the lives of these two people, of whom she had 
 grown so fond. So, she found herself holding Dick
 
 i 5 6 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 back, urging him to go slow, to study things out before 
 he acted. She pointed out to him that these conditions 
 had always existed that the poor had neither the 
 strength nor the brains to find the way out for them- 
 selves it must be done by those people who had brains 
 and power. 
 
 "But I'm so ashamed of having them so scared of us ! 
 How can we get some self-respect into them?" cried the 
 boy. 
 
 "Unionize 'em an' show 'em their power," said 
 Patsy. "That's the only way ye can do it, Dick, an' yc 
 wouldn't be for that, I suppose !" 
 
 "Why wouldn't I?" hotly. 
 
 "Well yer uncle won't stand fer it." 
 
 "I'll stand for anything that means I'm dealing with 
 men and women, and not with slaves of my indus- 
 try." 
 
 "That's all right, Dick, when you come into power, 
 you can tell the men you're willing they should 
 organize, but now if Mr. Farwell objects to it, he's got 
 the right to say so." 
 
 "Has he? I'm not so sure." 
 
 "Patsy and I both know that it takes a long time to 
 bring things about with our people. You have to teach 
 them how to do everything most of all how to use 
 power. It is because some of our leaders haven't 
 learned, because they've just taken a leaf from the em- 
 ployers' book, that we've got labour and capital at a 
 deadlock now." 
 
 "Well how many years have we stood fer the em- 
 ployer's tyranny?" cried Patsy. 
 
 "How many years is he going to stand for ours?" 
 Joan answered him. 
 
 "Till he rots !" Patsy retorted.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 157 
 
 "Patsy you're talking about Dick." 
 
 "I am not." 
 
 "Dick is the enemy. That's what I'm trying to say 
 there can't be a tyranny on either side, nor a dead- 
 lock it's got to be co-operation, fairness, equal chance. 
 That's the modern way." 
 
 "But there's no co-operation here," objected Dick. 
 
 "But Farwell isn't typical, Dick. It's just an exam- 
 ple of the old system, an out of the way, unorganized 
 survival. It thrives because of its age and the Farwell 
 prestige, and because the estate is rich and can keep it 
 advertised. In the big organized industries, like steel 
 and iron workers, silk workers, even the higher grades 
 of cotton cloth workers, no such conditions exist as 
 there are here. You saw how the workers lived 
 around those model factories- but they were higher 
 grade than these workers here. Patsy saw that, didn't 
 you? Why? Because they had been taught." 
 
 "Organize 'em an' they learn quick enough," Patsy 
 remarked. 
 
 So they argued hour on hour, and Dick listened and 
 learned from these two, who held his respect and his 
 utmost devotion. 
 
 Gregory, true to his colours, asked no questions, made 
 no comment on Dick's behaviour. If he was surprised 
 that he stuck to the job, he never said so. The only 
 visible effect of Dick's all day absence was that Gregory 
 began to monopolize more of Joan's time than before. 
 Nowadays they rode or tramped together, they read 
 the same books and discussed them. Sometimes they 
 argued about Dick and his future, but usually by mutual 
 consent, they steered clear of waters of contention. 
 They grew to understand and respect each other, and 
 better still, to enjoy each other. Joan and Dick had
 
 158 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 resumed their studies at night, and quite often Gregory 
 took part in the discussions that arose between them. 
 
 He was not unaware that there was some danger 
 in a man of his temperament and habits becoming so 
 dependent upon a woman who lived under his roof. 
 He kept his warning signals flying in his own mind. 
 Right after Christmas he decided to betake himself 
 South for a while and see what effect absence had upon 
 his growing habit. He went reluctantly, and found 
 himself annoyed at Joan's enthusiastic acceptance of 
 his plan. 
 
 Joan took advantage of her new freedom to spend 
 the greater part of her days in the village, renewing 
 and strengthening her associations there. She tried 
 to get the women waked up to new standards. She 
 knew, as Dick and Patsy in their hot intolerance failed 
 to know, that if Farwell factory hands were trans- 
 ferred over night into perfect cottages, with good 
 wages, that the scale of living would be the same, be- 
 cause the women didn't know how to keep houses clean, 
 children and men fed on decent fare, because they knew 
 nothing at all of the judicious use of the family wage. 
 So Joan set herself to the task of helping them to learn. 
 She knew what enemies habit and ignorance were, and 
 how long it took to conquer them. If she could hold 
 back her pair of wild young horses until the ground- 
 work of a new Farwell had been laid, then they might 
 go ahead with some of their radical changes. 
 
 She soon came upon the discovery that Dick and 
 Patsy were busy organizing the men and boys. The 
 Cotton Cloth Workers' Union sent a delegate, who 
 worked in secret with them, and the men, assured of 
 Dick's approval, were responding; enthusiastically. 
 Joan challenged them with it, and they admitted it.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 159 
 
 "But, Dick, you promised Mr. Farwell you would 
 not make trouble " she protested. 
 
 "I didn't know what I was saying. These men have 
 got a right to organize and no promise of mine to Uncle 
 Greg is going to stop them." 
 
 "It will mean a strike " 
 
 "What if it does? The Company needs a strike." 
 
 "You must tell Mr. Farwell what you're doing." 
 
 "Not until it's done." 
 
 "It isn't fair, Dick you've broken your word, and 
 you ought to tell him." 
 
 "Look here what side are you on, Uncle Greg's or 
 mine?" he demanded. 
 
 Joan's heart stood still at the question. 
 
 "I don't want to win by broken promises and bad 
 faith, whatever side I'm on," she answered. 
 
 "Very well I'll tell him the day he comes home " 
 he answered her hotly. 
 
 As it turned out that retort committed him to 
 nothing, for Gregory, finding how hard it was to stay 
 away from home, forced himself to extend his visit, as 
 a matter of discipline. 
 
 When his exile was over he went back to the Hall 
 with the satisfaction of a flagellant, whose punishment 
 is behind him. 
 
 "Have you and Dick missed me?" he demanded of 
 Joan. 
 
 ( 'Of course; we've been terribly busy," she added. 
 
 "Studies or village improvement?" 
 
 "Both." 
 
 She restrained any expression of her real pleasure 
 at his return, because she knew that the revelation Dick 
 was to make to him, must be laid at her door. She 
 hated her own reluctance to be a party to distressing
 
 160 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 him. He, on his part, misread her coolness and aloof- 
 ness. He turned away with a regret that something 
 fragrant and precious had gone from him. 
 
 Dick showed strain during dinner, and faced his duty 
 the minute they reached the drawing room. 
 
 "Uncle Greg, the men at the factory have organized, 
 and I've had a part in it," he began without preamble. 
 
 "What's that?" Gregory exclaimed. 
 
 "There was no other way for them to get anything 
 done. Saunders is about as modern as Simon Legree 
 you won't pay any attention to them, so what could 
 they do?" 
 
 "So that's what you've been up to in my absence," 
 remarked Mr. Farwcll, sweeping them both with the 
 same glance. 
 
 "I know I promised you not to make trouble, but I 
 think the right of those men to get some decencies is 
 .more important than my promise," Dick went on. 
 
 "Do you approve of this?" Gregory asked Joan. 
 
 "I don't approve of his breaking his promise to you 
 I do approve of the men unionizing," she answered 
 directly. 
 
 "So I have a league against me, in my own house." 
 
 "Oh, Uncle Greg, if you'd only come down and see 
 for yourself!" 
 
 "That will do. I don't intend to be lectured by 
 any half-baked school boy, who has picked up a dozen 
 ideas about social re-organization! I was willing to 
 let you and Miss Babcock make this experiment under 
 one condition you agreed to it. Now you have seen 
 fit to disregard that promise. I am still able to direct 
 my own affairs, grateful as I am to you for your inter- 
 est. Saunders will have orders to dismiss you tomor- 
 row, Dick."
 
 THE THRESHOLD 161 
 
 "You'd better not it will mean trouble. I'm a 
 good worker and a member of the union. You can't 
 throw me out for no reason at all." 
 
 "Do I understand that you are threatening me, 
 Dick?" Gregory inquired, ominously. 
 
 "I tell you, you'll get a strike, if you have me fired 
 without a cause!" Dick cried excitedly. 
 
 Gregory laughed tolerantly. It was the last straw 
 laid upon Dick's nerves. 
 
 "You can stand there and laugh about itl If you 
 know what I know, you wouldn't laugh. I'd rather 
 be Nero, than you. He was just a poor fool who 
 didn't know what he was about but you're a slacker. 
 You won't play the game at all. There isn't a man 
 in the works I don't respect more than I do you 
 playing up here with your doll rags while the men 
 down there sweat. What kind of a man are you, 
 anyhow?" Dick fairly screamed, hysterical with ex- 
 citement. 
 
 Joan wanted to rush in between them, or to run 
 away, where she could not hear, but she stood perfectly 
 still and waited for Gregory to speak. She saw the 
 slow fury mount his face. A quick motion of his ha-nd 
 swept a Chinese porcelain bowl onto the hearth with a 
 crash. He spoke quietly. 
 
 "I cannot lose my temper over a hysterical child, 
 Dick, but" 
 
 "I can't stand you any longer you make me 
 sick!" cried the boy and rushed out of the room. 
 Presently they heard the outer door slam and swift feet 
 on the gravel road. Joan stirred. She turned her 
 tortured face to Gregory, with an instinct to defend 
 Dick. She felt she faced another man not the Greg- 
 ory she knew. He deliberately refused to see the
 
 1 62 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 appeal in her face. With his foot, he brushed aside 
 the shattered bowl. 
 
 "There seems to be considerable wreckage here," he 
 remarked coolly, and walked out of the room.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 GREGORY sat in his study, with an open book 
 before him nearly all night, without turning a 
 leaf. He went over every stage of his life 
 with Dick from the boy's childhood up to the present. 
 He discovered that his love for him had been the 
 central core of his heart for ten years. He had 
 counted on Dick's love for him. But this strange 
 young woman could walk into their lives and in six 
 months arouse Dick against him, so that he called him 
 Nero, and insulted him in every possible way. 
 
 It was not that the boy had attacked his motives and 
 his way of living that affected him he rated that as 
 emotionalism, but it hurt deeply to have him slam the 
 door, as it were, upon all those years of loving compan- 
 ionship. His fury at the woman who had brought this 
 disaster upon them, grew with what it fed on. 
 
 What a fool he had been to let her have her way 
 with the boy! He should have issued orders in the 
 beginning, when he first learned her background and 
 her principles, that she was not to proselyte Dick. In 
 his hurt pride, he granted her no excuses. She had 
 lived under his roof, won his friendship and betrayed 
 him. He hated her. The memory of how she had 
 been in his thoughts all during his absence from the 
 Hall made his face burn. While he was dreaming 
 of her, she was organizing a strike in his factory. She 
 had said that Farwell was creeping up the hill toward 
 him. . . . 
 
 163
 
 1 64 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 Tomorrow he would have Dick dismissed. They 
 should not intimidate him, those two. If the strike 
 came, he would go to New York and let them fight it 
 out, as he had on the last occasion when there was 
 trouble. If Dick had thrown in his lot with the 
 workers, he would have to take the consequences. 
 
 He built up a fine case against her. He even incrim- 
 inated Miss Earl. She had been particeps criminis in 
 that she had placed this revolutionary in his home. 
 He would take occasion to call on Miss Earl and ex- 
 press himself on the matter. 
 
 Probably Joan was a member of some radical asso- 
 ciation, working for labour interests. They had a card 
 index, no doubt, of all the rich factory owners in the 
 country, and the conditions existing in their shops. 
 Joan was probably called a "field missionary," and it 
 was her job to spy out the situation, any way she could. 
 He could fairly see her draw his name out of the filing 
 cabinet "Farwell, Gregory." "Ah, yes, I must try to 
 get in with that man," she would say. She would go to 
 this miserable Professional Woman's Bureau, and 
 either pull the wool over poor Miss Earl's eyes, with 
 the result that she is placed in Farwell Hall, or she 
 flatly confesses her intentions to that estimable lady, 
 who co-operates with her! 
 
 Once in his house, she had not scorned to use every 
 means to win his interest and affection, as well as 
 Dick's. She was versed in all the finest methods of 
 attracting and hoodwinking him. Even he, seasoned 
 man of the world, had not entirely withstood her wiles. 
 How could an inexperienced boy, like Dick, be expected 
 to stand out against her? 
 
 She had painted her picture in vivid hues, with the 
 down-trodden labouring man as the hero, his employer,
 
 THE THRESHOLD 165 
 
 as the villain. Ridiculous 1 Everybody knew that 
 labour was the most autocratic organization on the 
 earth ! That it added to all the other abuses of power 
 ignorance in its use. Was she telling Dick that? 
 Certainly not. She only played on his young intoler- 
 ance of injustice. She had roused him to break his 
 quixotic lance against his own class! 
 
 And he, fool that he was, had stood by, smiling at 
 this tutelage, sure of Dick's lazy indifference. He had 
 discounted sex. The girl had roused the youngster to 
 a fierce knight-errantry. If this was her cause, it 
 should be his, too. 
 
 "Fool ! Fool 1" Gregory said over and over to him- 
 self. 
 
 It must have been about three o'clock in the morn- 
 ing, when Joan came in at the open door. She had 
 not been to bed, either. She was dressed as she had 
 been for dinner. She was white as a ghost, with dark 
 rimmed eyes. He felt his heart instinctively clamp 
 with pity for her, she looked so young and miserable. 
 Then he steeled himself. 
 
 "I saw your light. I haven't been to bed, either. I 
 must go away in the morning. I shall follow Dick." 
 
 He stood looking at her without reply. 
 
 "I thought perhaps we might tell each other what we 
 were thinking, you down here, I upstairs " 
 
 He stirred, impatiently, she thought, so she added 
 humbly, 
 
 "Just as as two people who have liked each other." 
 
 "I'm afraid I am not much in the mood for philo- 
 sophical discussion," he replied coolly. 
 
 She turned at that, and walked toward the door. 
 Something happened to his composure. 
 
 "You've made Dick hate me !" he burst out at her.
 
 1 66 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 She came to him quickly and looked him in the eyes. 
 
 "No matter what you think of me, you cannot 
 believe that I deliberately turned Dick against you !" 
 
 "Deliberately or not it's happened." 
 
 "I can understand how you must feel about me. I 
 don't blame you at all. I offer no defence but mayn't 
 I say I'm sorry?" 
 
 "No, you may not. I don't want your sympathy. I 
 did want your loyalty, but I find I never had it." 
 
 "You've always had it. I warned you at the very 
 first what I was, what I believed, what I would teach 
 Dick, if I had the chance. You took the risk." 
 
 "But this treachery while I was gone " 
 
 "It cannot change facts for me to say that I opposed 
 the unionization that I begged Dick and Patrick to 
 wait until Dick was in command. In the beginning I 
 was responsible for rousing Dick, I admit that. So 
 far as the men in Farwell are concerned, now the or- 
 ganization is done, I must be glad. You can see that, 
 can't you?" 
 
 "I can see that you have absolute dominion over 
 Dick you could have stopped it, if you had wanted to. 
 You could have forced him to keep his promise." 
 
 "No, I couldn't. I wish I could make you under- 
 stand how the whole situation has graduated out of my 
 hands. I've been holding back wild horses, in your 
 absence, waiting for you to come home, so I could ask 
 your advice but now what's the use?" 
 
 "I told you you would start something you couldn't 
 stop." 
 
 "Does it help any to say that?" 
 
 "What are you going to do, if there's a strike?" 
 
 "Help the men." 
 
 "I shall dismiss all your friends in the village and get
 
 THE THRESHOLD 167 
 
 in new men from elsewhere. We won't have unions 
 So that's all you and Dick have accomplished for 
 'them.' " 
 
 "No, that isn't all. Whether you keep them or send 
 them if we've roused them to organize and fight for 
 human rights they'll never be the same again." 
 
 "None of us will ever be the same again," he assured 
 her. 
 
 "So be it," she answered gravely. 
 
 "What do you intend to do with Dick?" 
 
 "Mr. Farwell, Dick went on his own when he took 
 a job in the factory. I didn't suggest that, you know. 
 Ever since I've tried to act as a brake on his enthusi- 
 asm. He and his friend, Patsy, are too young and too 
 ardent for change to see that it must come slowly. I'm 
 afraid that they've got to learn it through some bitter 
 experience. I shall not stand sponsor for all Dick's 
 mistakes!" 
 
 "You fired his imagination for these people " 
 
 "I urged you to offer him an alternative!" 
 
 "You've made life unbearable for me!" he accused 
 her. 
 
 "And you for me !" 
 
 He started at that. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "You've clouded my clear-cut issue, you've made me 
 hesitate and compromise with my duty, because of my 
 sense of gratitude and loyalty to you. I've enjoyed 
 your friendship, I've loved my life here. You've 
 opened up all sorts of new interests and ideas to me 
 I've come to understand your attitude toward the 
 world. I've handicapped myself at the very beginning 
 with affection for you and Dick. Where does it take 
 me? Nowhere! Why should I be loyal to you?
 
 1 68 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 Haven't I given you full value for your money? My 
 loyalty belongs down there in Farwell I warn you 
 that when I go, I'm free I shall fight you " her 
 voice rose in a climax of feeling. 
 
 "Very well. I shall give no quarter because of 
 any affection for you or for Dick," he replied quietly. 
 
 She felt his voice quiver at the mention of the boy's 
 name. 
 
 "Come down to the village with me, and meet us 
 half way, Gregory Farwell. You wouldn't fight us, 
 if you understood," she cried to him, full of pity. 
 
 "No I cannot be wheedled nor threatened. I am 
 not concerned with the troubles of Farwell. I am cus- 
 todian of the factory properties until Dick's majority 
 and I shall conduct them as they have always been 
 conducted." 
 
 "You have modern machinery, not hand looms," she 
 reminded him. 
 
 "You will forgive me, if I say our debates on thi 
 matter lead nowhere." 
 
 "May I say good-bye to you? I shall be gone be- 
 fore you breakfast." 
 
 She held out her hand to him, and after a second's 
 hesitation he took it. 
 
 "Good-bye, Miss Babcock." 
 
 "I'll look after Dick every minute, if there's trouble. 
 I can't say what you and Dick and the Hall have meant 
 to me " she broke off, and went out of the room has- 
 tily. 
 
 He lifted his head to call her back then with a sigh 
 he went to the window and raised the blinds. A cold 
 February dawn was settling on the earth. Gregory 
 shivered, with a presentiment of misfortune. What 
 had gone awry in his world of beauty and aloofness?
 
 THE THRESHOLD 169 
 
 Was it that human attachment had invaded his seclu- 
 sion? 
 
 First Dick had crept in, with his happy boy ways 
 and then Joan. There was no use counting her out, 
 she was there, inside his stronghold. In the midst of 
 the turmoil of his thoughts and emotions, he was glad 
 that she had said she had affection for him. He was 
 comforted to think that he blockaded her judgment, as 
 she did his. Verily, she spoke the truth, with her 
 phrase, the "handicap of emotion." 
 
 He knew that sleep was impossible. He got a 
 greatcoat from the closet, and a cap. He chose a stout 
 stick and let himself out into the cold early morning. 
 He walked rapidly to get his blood to circulating. He 
 tried not to think. Something about his interview with 
 Joan had taken away all his pleasure in thinking of her 
 as a designing spy, set upon him by the radicals he had 
 invented. She slipped into his thoughts as a tired, 
 white-faced girl, crying out upon him that he had 
 crippled her. 
 
 He tramped for miles over the frozen roads, and 
 through the bleak, bare woods. Every inch of the way 
 was redolent with memories of hours spent with Dick 
 and Joan, riding or motoring. It was too sardonic, 
 that these two should be fighting him, as an enemy! 
 Why, the entire town of Farwell, factories, workers 
 and all, was not worth it ! 
 
 He came back hours later, physically tired. 
 
 His footsteps fairly echoed through the empty hall 
 as he went to his bedroom. Tomorrow he would be 
 alone in this big house. He would not bear it he 
 would go to New York in the morning and forget the 
 whole miserable business. No he would not run 
 away.
 
 i yo THE THRESHOLD 
 
 She had said Farwell was creeping up the hill well 
 he would cram it back into its place and hold it there. 
 They would find him no craven enemy, those two, be- 
 cause of his lore for them !
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 JOAN walked into the village in the early morning, 
 carrying her bag. It was cold and dispiriting, 
 with no sun and the mud on the roads thick. She 
 was going into battle, as surely as she was going into 
 Farwell. In the old days she would have been glad to 
 fight with the workers for the things she believed right, 
 but now, it was not the workers who occupied her 
 thoughts, it was the man on the hill, who was deserted 
 by those he loved, because he would not understand 
 one of the great struggles of the modern world. 
 
 The memory of Dick's attack upon his uncle hurt 
 her dear, crazy Dick, what was she to do with this 
 rapidly burning fuse she had laid? Where and how 
 would the explosion come? How many would it de- 
 stroy? 
 
 What ironic stage manager had lifted her from the 
 little western town, set her down here in this eastern 
 village, tied up her heart strings with the heart strings 
 of these two men unknown to her a year before? It 
 was so incredible, that it seemed as if it must be part of 
 a deliberate plan! 
 
 There was the usual early morning clatter in the 
 factory district. Slatternly women were banging about 
 the breakfast pans, the children were already swarming 
 in front of the shacks. Window shades were luxuries 
 unknown to the district, so in the gas-lighted rooms be- 
 yond, the men made their frank toilets. Smells of 
 
 171
 
 172 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 poor coffee and frying meat assaulted their nostrils. 
 Joan shivered at the ugliness of life here. Animals 
 were cleaner and more self-respecting. She imagined 
 a whole new deal for the factory district of Farwell, 
 all these old filthy shacks to be done away with. A 
 half mile out of the ugly town lay the hills and valleys 
 of that beautiful state. In her mind's eye, she saw 
 great new, many-windowed factory buildings set in the 
 nearest valley, with a spur of the railroad running out 
 of it. The green carpet of grass and vegetation 
 stretched off on all sides to rest the eyes lifted from the 
 drudgery of the looms. On the hills all about were 
 the workers' cottages, fresh, modern and pretty. 
 They had little gardens about them, of vegetables and 
 flowers. There was a schoolhouse, and a church or 
 two, maybe. 
 
 This ideal spot she peopled with a revolutionized 
 community women who knew how to keep house, to 
 keep children clean and decently clothed; men who 
 were interested in their homes, liked to garden a bit, 
 instead of spending every night at the saloon. Neat 
 children, in a good school, learning to be self-respecting 
 citizens. Her thoughts developed that ideal village as 
 she went on to the Raffertys, hoping to find Dick. 
 
 The children were in all stages of undress, quarrel- 
 ling over their garments. The confusion was disturb- 
 ing, but not to Mrs. Rafferty who, clad in an old 
 wrapper, was busy over the stove. She greeted Joan, 
 with her habitual enthusiasm, and said that Dick was 
 sleeping in the attic. Patsy had gone up to call him. 
 Had Miss Babcock had her breakfast? If there was 
 anything odd in Dick's arriving near midnight, asking 
 for a bed, and Joan appearing at seven-thirty, it was no 
 concern of hers. Patsy came down, said Dick had not
 
 THE THRESHOLD 173 
 
 undressed at all, and suggested that Joan go up and see 
 him. 
 
 So she climbed the ladder-like stairs up into Dick's 
 retreat. There was no window it was dark and 
 stuffy. The only light came from the door at the top 
 of the stairs. He was sitting on an old broken chair, 
 his head in his hands, and did not look up until she 
 spoke to him. Then he started to his feet, stumbled 
 toward her, put his arms about her, his head bent down 
 upon her little soft felt hat. She put her arms around 
 him, and they stood so, in silence for several seconds. 
 
 "I was afraid you wouldn't come," he said at last. 
 
 "Not come, Dick?" 
 
 "I thought you might side with Uncle Greg." 
 
 "How could I, Dick?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't know." 
 
 "It was dreadful to hear you attack him " 
 
 "I can't help it I've kept my mouth shut as long as 
 I could," sullenly. 
 
 "All right we won't talk about it. We've neither 
 of us had any sleep. We must make up our minds 
 what we are going to do, now." 
 
 "Now?" 
 
 "We must find some place to live, on what money 
 we have. I've got some savings, so even if you do lose 
 your six dollars a week, we can manage." 
 
 "I hadn't thought of that." 
 
 She smiled, he was such a baby. She took the 
 broken chair and he sat on the floor before her and they 
 went over the situation. She would get board and 
 room, outside the district, in the town proper. He 
 might buy a cot and blankets and stay with the 
 Raffertys, if they would take him. 
 . "They'll take me they're the best friends I ever
 
 i 7 4 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 had always stand by and no questions asked. But 
 I'm sure I'll get my allowance, Joan, and I've got some 
 money in the bank." 
 
 So the first step was decided on, and they descended 
 to the family circle with their proposition, which was 
 at once accepted. Dick could have his cot in the par- 
 lour, and welcome. 
 
 "Patsy, what will happen, if Dick loses his job?" 
 Joan asked. 
 
 I dunno " 
 
 "Are you planning a strike soon?" 
 
 "I ain't plannin' nuthin'," he teased her. 
 
 "I wish you could get them to begin easy make de- 
 mands that could be granted without making Mr. Far- 
 well seem to give in." 
 
 "Well, they won't. We've had all the givin' in we 
 want," he replied. 
 
 Joan could not get anything more out of him, as to 
 the Union's program. So she started off to look for 
 an abiding place. 
 
 "Do go slow, boys," she begged them. 
 
 The whistle blew and the two boys went to their 
 work. Nothing happened. Dick began to breathe 
 more easily maybe Uncle Greg had changed his mind. 
 He was glad to escape the crisis, because he hated to 
 remember how the older man looked, when he had 
 blazed out at him. He didn't want to hurt him he 
 didn't want trouble with him but 
 
 Larsen sauntered over to him. 
 
 "Saunders wants ye," he remarked. 
 
 It had come. Dick handed over his machine to a 
 substitute and walked out of the shop, into Saunders' 
 office. That dignitary looked up.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 175 
 
 "Wages up to this morning, Norton. We don't 
 need you here any longer." 
 
 "Why not? Don't I do the work all right?" 
 
 "Get out I" thundered Saunders. 
 
 "I hope you'll be here when I come to run the fac- 
 tory," said Dick sweetly. 
 
 Saunders looked up and laughed, a sneering sound 
 of derision at a child. Dick never knew what hap- 
 pened, only his fist landed in Saunders' face, Saunders 
 came at him, and they had at each other. A long 
 time afterward, as it seemed to him, Larsen came to 
 help the manager, and Dick landed out on the gravel 
 walk, groggy and bleeding at the nose. He sat still 
 for a little, getting his thoughts sorted out, and then 
 betook himself to Mrs. Rafferty's for cold water and 
 first aid. 
 
 "Per the love av Mike, phwat happened to ye?" she 
 demanded. 
 
 "I went at Saunders " he began. 
 
 "Saunders, is ut? Well put yer nose in this," she 
 ordered, offering a tin basin of water. She got the 
 whole story as the boy remembered it. 
 
 "There's no more justice round here, than there is 
 in a jail," he exclaimed. "He had no right to throw 
 me out. I was doing my work." 
 
 "Sure Saunders don't care 'bout no rights." 
 
 "Well we'll show him/" said Dick. 
 
 "Darlin' they'll git us ivry toime. They can 
 starve us," the old Irish woman said with finality. 
 
 Dick sat by the window, his hands working nerv- 
 ously, looking out, saying nothing for hours, until the 
 whistle blew. Then he went out and over to the lot, 
 where the workers crossed from the factory to the
 
 i 7 6 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 town. He got an old box which he placed carefully, 
 and when the procession began to come along, calling 
 out to him and chaffing him, he stopped them, asked 
 them to wait a minute. Patsy appeared, serious-eyed 
 and called out to him, 
 
 "What happened, Dick?" 
 
 "He threw me out he and Larsen together, but I 
 smashed him one in the nose before they got me." 
 
 "Look here, fellows, you all know Dick how he 
 took a job along wit' de rest av us to foind out phwat 
 we need an' all, in the shops. Ye know he's a noice 
 fella no soide jest wan av us. Ye know how he 
 tould us, 'Go ahead with the unions, it's the only self- 
 respictin' way fer the workin' man' ye know that, 
 don't ye?" 
 
 "Sure, we know ut!" came the answer. 
 
 "He's goin' to be the boss here some day, an' he 
 ackchully wants us to live decent an' git some pleasure 
 out o' loife." 
 
 "Good fer Dick!" 
 
 "Ye all know King Farwell " 
 
 "Aw " came the rumble of anger. 
 
 "Well, he's sore on this union job an' he's afther 
 Dick " 
 
 "To hell wit' him!" shouted a voice. 
 
 "No look here a minute, fellows," Dick began. 
 The crowd by this time had grown to full size. Prac- 
 tically all the workers were in the field surrounding 
 him. He got up on his box and faced them. Joan 
 sighted him afar and hurried to the edge of the crowd. 
 
 "I know you hate my uncle, because you think he's 
 responsible for things down here but he isn't. He 
 don't know anything about how things are in the town 
 he leaves it to Saunders "
 
 THE THRESHOLD 177 
 
 "That's enuff against him!" 
 
 "He can't get interested in the factory. I don't 
 blame him he's all right. You'd like him, if you 
 knew him " 
 
 "Yes we would! Say, Dick, quit yer kiddin' !" 
 they hooted. 
 
 "Saunders don't believe in unions, so he makes Uncle 
 Greg think they're the limit." 
 
 "Does Saunders have to tell him what he thinks, the 
 poor nut?" 
 
 "Never mind about him. He's just running this 
 factory until I'm of age. I inherit it from my grand- 
 father, and I can do what I want with it, then, but 
 Uncle Greg and Saunders don't want me to butt in 
 now." 
 
 "Ye bet they don't." 
 
 "When I took the job, I promised I wouldn't stir 
 up trouble down here, but I didn't keep my word " 
 
 "Good feryou!" 
 
 "No I'm sorry I couldn't, but I thought it was your 
 duty to organize, so I helped you do it. Uncle Greg 
 was furious and he ordered Saunders to dismiss me." 
 
 "We'll make him take ye back!" came the answer. 
 
 "He'll take ye back or we'll pull off a strike," cried 
 Patsy. 
 
 "Sure! That's the idea!" 
 
 They took it up with shouts. The women and chil- 
 dren were all hurrying from the shanties to join the 
 crowd. 
 
 "Let Patsy an' two other fellas wait an' see Saunders 
 as soon as the whistle blows, an' tell him our say," cried 
 a man. 
 
 They greeted the idea with applause. The commit- 
 tee was appointed then and there.
 
 178 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "We want a representation on that committee," 
 shouted a girl. 
 
 There was laughter at that. 
 
 "Sure, give the gurls a chanct. They got a union, 
 too, ain't they?" 
 
 "Well, we can run the factory without ye ye better 
 look out fer us " 
 
 "That's right votes fer wimmen!" jeered the men 
 good-naturedly. A girl was added to the commission, 
 and they were about to go to their dinners when Dick 
 made another speech, brief, but earnest. 
 
 "I can't tell you how I appreciate your standing by 
 me like this. I hope I can stand by you all, some 
 day!" he said, with feeling. 
 
 "Three times three for Dick the Union employ- 
 er!" called Patsy. They gave it with a will, hats were 
 flung up, hands were shaken. Joan watched it with 
 foreboding. How often had she seen the holiday 
 spirit seize upon a crowd, when strike was called. It 
 meant change, something doing. No wonder they wel- 
 comed it. But in her mind's eye were the later days, 
 when faces grew pinched, women bitter and men anx- 
 ious. How futile to have thought that that curly- 
 headed, excited lad out there could help with this prob- 
 lem! Where was he leading them these childlike 
 victims of our system? No vision, no plan, no fore- 
 sight for them just one blundering step at a 
 time. . . . And she was responsible for the whole 
 situation here. She went away without seeing Dick 
 and Patsy. 
 
 At one o'clock the workers were at their machines. 
 At one fifteen, the committee went into Saunders' office. 
 At one twenty-five, at a signal agreed upon, the ma-
 
 THE THRESHOLD 179 
 
 chines all stopped the workers walked out. In the 
 dooryard the committee waited. 
 
 "He won't even listen to us," Patsy explained to 
 them. "We told him the Union wouldn't stand havin' 
 its members dismissed without cause. He laughed at 
 us. Said he hadn't heard we had a union. The Com- 
 pany did not recognize it, if we had. It's up to us 
 now we've called a strike 1"
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE workers got in touch with the union head- 
 quarters in a near by city by telephone, and two 
 hours after the strike was called, a union strike 
 manager was on the way to Farwell. The men loafed 
 about, talking and smoking. Grady's saloon was head- 
 quarters, as usual. The women wandered around aim- 
 lessly, gossiping together. Everywhere was felt the 
 sudden let-down that inaugurates a strike. 
 
 Jergens had dashed into town half an hour after the 
 shut down, and carried Saunders off to the Hall. Joan 
 and Dick saw the car with the manager. 
 
 "Poor Uncle Greg, he's got to think about us, now," 
 remarked Dick. 
 
 She made no answer. 
 
 "Patsy says they'll bring in scabs," he continued. 
 
 "Probably." 
 
 "And some of these fellows have worked for us for 
 five years " bitterly. 
 
 "It's all useless it could be compromised," she 
 sighed. 
 
 "Fat lot of compromising to be expected from that 
 old crab Saunders !" 
 
 Meanwhile, Saunders retailed the story of Dick's 
 dismissal to Mr. Farwell. 
 
 "But why did he hit you?" Mr. Farwell interrupted. 
 
 "He asked me wasn't he doin' his work all right, an' 
 I told him to git out. With that he flung hisself on 
 me like a tiger, hittin' an' scratchin'."
 
 THE THRESHOLD 181 
 
 "And how was he doing his work, Saunders?" Greg- 
 ory inquired with interest. 
 
 "He was doin' all right no complaint from the 
 foreman." 
 
 Gregory sighed. 
 
 "It was because he was thrown out without any ex- 
 cuse that they called this strike?" 
 
 "Yes sir." 
 
 "Saunders, considering the fact that my guardian- 
 ship of Dick's property has been the most exhausting 
 and tiresome responsibility of my life, does it strike 
 you as rather humorous that Dick leads a strike of his 
 own workmen against his own business?" 
 
 Mr. Farwell always terrified Saunders. He never 
 could make him out. 
 
 "I don't see anything funny about this here fight. 
 Of course we ain't recognized the unions, but I guess 
 they're purty well organized this time, thanks to your 
 nephew and that devil Rafferty." 
 
 "We can't run with women, plus a few extras from 
 outside?" 
 
 "The wimmen are in ut. They got a union." 
 
 "Have they? I suppose they would have with 
 Dick as leader. Dick seems to be much more able 
 than I suspected. Well, what's to be done, Saun- 
 ders?" 
 
 "Shut down, or get a carload of strike breakers like 
 we done before, an' show 'em we mean business." 
 
 "That means trouble and broken heads," protested 
 Mr. Farwell. 
 
 "That's the only way ye can handle 'em. I know 
 'em. Give 'em an inch an' they take a mile." 
 
 "My nephew and Miss Babcock tell me the condi- 
 tions in the place are scandalous."
 
 1 82 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "They ain't so good, an' they ain't so bad," replied 
 Saunders. "I've seen worse." 
 
 "If you took Dick back would they go to work?" 
 "I dunno. I guess they're lookin' fer trouble." 
 "What would they want, if we met them half way?" 
 "Lord only knows. A raise will come first we'll 
 get that anyhow, now they're organized they'll want 
 us to recognize the union they may want new factories 
 entirely ye never can tell." 
 
 "You think we'd better fight them?" 
 "I do." 
 
 "I hope you are saving enough to retire on when my 
 nephew comes of age, Saunders," remarked Mr. 
 Farwell. 
 
 "I am," replied the dour one, with a grin. 
 "The cottages, I suppose, are not models?" 
 "Not exactly. They're purty bad, I guess. Rotten 
 plumbin' an' leakin' roofs, they say an' " 
 
 "No details, Saunders. My nephew will undoubt- 
 edly rebuild them." 
 
 "They could be patched up all right " 
 
 "You don't believe in model cottages?" 
 "What's the use? They'll abuse 'em just the same. 
 Ye ain't got no model tenants for yer model cottages." 
 "You worked your way up out of that group, didn't 
 you, Saunders?" 
 
 "I did, an' I know 'em. No brains, an' they won't 
 learn." 
 
 "It might cause considerable inconvenience to all of 
 us, Saunders, if they suddenly discovered brains, and 
 began to learn.. Beginning to learn is the trouble. 
 That is what has happened to my nephew. That is the 
 reason of all this disturbance. It almost makes you 
 believe in complete ignorance, Saunders."
 
 THE THRESHOLD 183 
 
 The manager stirred uneasily, and made an effort to 
 get back to facts. 
 
 "Ye don't want me to give in to 'em, do ye?" 
 
 "I don't care what you do, so long as I do not have 
 to decide it. I employ you to run those hateful facto- 
 ries, Saunders." 
 
 "There'll be no givin' in, if ye leave it to me. I'll 
 stand for no unions, neither. The minute ye give 'em 
 the right to shoot off their gab on this an' that, ye've 
 got trouble." 
 
 "Gab certainly seems responsible for a great deal, I 
 admit. I don't intend to take part in this affair, so I 
 may as well leave it to you. I'd like to be sure that no 
 harm would come to my nephew and Miss Babcock " 
 he ended anxiously. 
 
 "Send 'em word to keep out of the fight, Mr. Far- 
 well. Strike-breakers ain't no respecters of persons," 
 Saunders advised, rising to go. 
 
 "I'm afraid they would scorn my advice, Saunders. 
 I'm sorry you've got this trouble on your hands. By 
 the way, no shooting, Saunders," he said in farewell. 
 
 The six o'clock train began to bring in men with 
 camp outfits. Later trains added to the number. By 
 nine o'clock a tent village was growing on the lots 
 around the factory. 
 
 "Scabs are coming," the news ran through the dis- 
 trict. A crowd began to collect on the edge of the 
 field, watching the proceedings, and hooting at them. 
 There were some big plug-uglies on guard, while the 
 tent men worked, and they preserved a sullen silence in 
 the face of all insults. The crowd was good-natured 
 enough it offered no violence. By midnight the tent 
 city was ready. Cots, blankets and the commissariat 
 department would follow in the morning. This whole
 
 1 84 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 show had been performed for the workers' benefit, the 
 last time there had been trouble. On that occasion 
 the Company had won. It had been a nasty business, 
 the attempt to dislodge the scabs, who were drilled and 
 organized. There was hunger to contend with, too. 
 None of them liked to remember it. 
 
 "They'll try to get thim in before mornin', byes. 
 Let's be at the station a-waitin' fer 'em," called Patsy, 
 when the tent raisers had finished work. 
 
 So they all started through the town, and surrounded 
 the railroad station, good-naturedly chaffing and guy- 
 ing. There were men and girls both. Patsy and Dick 
 were in the forefront of the crowd and Joan followed 
 with Mrs. Rafferty, who came for the fun of it. 
 Nearly the whole factory district was there. 
 
 It was very chilly in the early morning; the light 
 from the old acetylene gas lamps threw grotesque shad- 
 ows on the crowd. They stamped their feet and 
 clapped their hands to keep warm. The town police- 
 man came to inspect them, and had an ovation. They 
 cheered him, and begged him to be ready to arrest 
 them, in case of trouble. They all knew "the old 
 Cop" as they called him, and as a representative of 
 law, he had not much weight. He shook his billy at 
 them and hurried off to telephone the Mayor. 
 
 That dignitary was in bed, sound asleep, but old 
 Cop's news aroused him. He got out of his bed and 
 appeared shortly at the station, with the entire police 
 force, consisting of three elderly policemen. Card 
 was rapturously received, but when he attempted to 
 harangue the crowd, urging law and order, and recall- 
 ing the experiences of the last strike, they interrupted 
 him with cat calls and derision. They knew him for 
 their enemy, and his assurances of friendly protection
 
 THE THRESHOLD 185 
 
 in return for order, were valued at their true worth. 
 They knew Card would never forget their opposition 
 in the late election. Ben Card went away, black with 
 rage, and hurried from house to house to arouse and 
 swear in special police. He managed to commandeer 
 eight men, with great effort. He ordered them all to 
 the station at once, armed. 
 
 The crowd was dancing and singing in a vain attempt 
 to keep warm, when the 3 o'clock train brought in 
 twenty men under protection. The guards jostled the 
 crowd to open up a way for their men. The crowd 
 began to push and close in on them, meantime yelling 
 "Scab!" at the strike breakers. Just at this juncture, 
 Ben Card and the new deputies arrived on the run. 
 They waited to ask no questions. They plunged in, 
 revolvers drawn, ordering the crowd back. 
 
 "Keep your shirt on, Ben," some one called good- 
 naturedly. 
 
 It might have been all right if an excited new police- 
 man hadn't been roughly shoved by some one in the 
 crowd. He thought he was attacked and he shot his 
 revolver full into the mass. The bullet struck the leg 
 of the big guard, trying to beat a way through for the 
 scabs, and he went down with a howl. That set tem- 
 pers afire. 
 
 Men began to slug women, crushed in the midst of 
 the mob, began to scream, and try to fight their way 
 out. Ben Card urged his men to use clubs. He 
 threatened to shoot if the crowd did not obey orders. 
 In the midst of it a train unloaded another delegation, 
 this time much larger. They saw the situation and 
 tried to make a detour, and head for the tent city, but 
 the strikers caught the idea and went after them, too. 
 
 The first company joined the second, taking advan-
 
 1 86 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 tage of the lull. The scab leaders had had orders 
 not to give fight, if they could avoid it, so they ordered 
 the men to set out on a run, the insurgents in hot pur- 
 suit. Joan and Dick and Patsy were an integral part 
 of the mob now. Hot, blood-thirsty and furious, they 
 ran, throwing rocks or anything they could lay hands 
 to. Card was knocked out with some missile and had 
 to be carried home. 
 
 Arrived at the vacant lot where they were to camp, 
 the scabs stood and gave battle. Most of the strikers 
 had some sort of weapons now. There was shouting 
 and yelling there were grunts and howls of pain. 
 The special police shot once or twice, but no one was 
 hit, thanks to their bad aim. The grey dawn showed 
 bloody faces, streaming hair, torn clothes. . . . 
 
 Most of the tent guards had been called in to help, 
 so Dick and Patsy slipped about cutting the ropes of 
 the tents where they could. It gave Dick an idea. 
 
 "Look here let's get into the factory and break the 
 machines so the scabs can't use 'em." 
 
 "But they're your machines," protested Patsy. 
 
 "I don't care if they are I want 'em broken !" cried 
 Dick. "Come on now's the time they're all mixed 
 up in the fight and Card is out of it." 
 
 "All right I know where Larsen keeps the tools 
 if we can get inside Sneak round the shanties to the 
 other door." 
 
 They started running. Joan saw them and fol- 
 lowed. She caught up, as they reached the far side of 
 the factory. 
 
 "It's Joan, boys, what's up?" she called as they 
 turned on her. 
 
 "Going to smash the machines," replied Dick.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 187 
 
 "Dick they'll shoot you if they catch you. Card 
 is ready to do anything " 
 
 "Let him. He's out of it, for now. Here, Pat, 
 kick in this cellar window," he ordered. "You stay 
 here and give us a warning, if they come, Joan." 
 
 "Oh, Patsy don't let him do it " she begged. 
 
 "I can't stop Mm!" said the Irishman, disappearing 
 into the blackness within, followed by Dick. They 
 knew their way about, so they ran for the tools. At 
 the door of the closet, Dick whispered. 
 
 "Pat, look! Wasn't that a flashlight?" The Irish- 
 man stared in the direction indicated. 
 
 "I saw nuthin'." 
 
 "I was sure," Dick said. 
 
 "Must 'a been the loight outside a-flickerin' " 
 
 "Maybe go ahead hand out the tools." 
 
 They ran toward the biggest machine. Patsy knew 
 the mechanism best, so he gave orders as to which part 
 to attack, and how to disable it most completely in the 
 shortest time. There was absolute silence in the great, 
 dark place, save for their panting breath. 
 
 As Dick worked, he remembered his first impression 
 of big elephants, tended by men. Would they perhaps 
 turn upon their servants, who were daring to disable 
 them. He looked about in swift apprehension. If 
 they should close in upon Patsy and himself if they 
 should destroy their traitorous keepers. . . . 
 
 Joan waited what seemed to her ages, then she heard 
 blows inside and the crash of things falling. Off in 
 the field the fighting and shouting kept up. The 
 sounds inside ceased, but the boys did not come out. 
 She waited and waited then she began to call softly. 
 Finally she could bear it no longer. She climbed
 
 1 88 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 through the broken window and began to clutch her 
 way toward the direction of the stairs. 
 
 She groped up, and into the main room of the fac- 
 tory. A single gas lamp out in front, threw a waver- 
 ing shaft of light across the place. The two boys 
 were busy, apparently trying to unscrew some part of 
 a machine. They worked feverishly and in silence. 
 
 Before she could speak, out of the shadows behind 
 them a figure sprang upon Dick's back. The impact 
 bore him to the ground. Patsy went down on the 
 writhing mass, and managed to get the assailant's re- 
 volver. 
 
 Joan never hesitated. She had told Gregory that 
 she would look after Dick. Suddenly a piece of the 
 dismantled machine appeared in her hand she did not 
 know how. She ran to the panting group and waited. 
 Patsy was trying to pull the man off Dick. When the 
 right head came up in the scrimmage, she hit it. The 
 man fell on Dick, inertly. Patsy, who was hammer- 
 ing at him, drew back. Joan helped him pull the man 
 off and Dick got up. They all peered at the motion- 
 less man. 
 
 "Good God it's Saunders!" said Dick. 
 -."Did I kill him?" Joan asked. 
 
 Patsy laid his ear to his heart. 
 
 "No we'd better get out of this." 
 
 "Get back to the crowd," Joan urged. 
 
 They ran swiftly down the stairs and out. 
 
 "Make fer the shanties!" panted Patsy. 
 
 "Oh I hope I didn't kill him!" groaned Joan, as 
 they ran.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 FROM the moment when scabs were brought into 
 Farwell, events began to unroll like a huge ball 
 of twine, darting here and there without direc- 
 tion, tangling itself as it went faster. The morning 
 after the strike breakers arrived, an anonymous scrawl 
 urged Ben Card to search the factory. Saunders was 
 found, delirious, from a concussion of the brain. The 
 damage done the machines was not very important, but 
 it showed that the strikers had been at the work of 
 destruction when Saunders came upon them. He 
 could probably tell who the offenders were when he 
 recovered sufficiently to speak. For the present he 
 was of no value as a witness. There was no suspicion 
 as to his assailants, because in the confusion of the 
 night before, nobody could be accounted for. He was 
 taken to his home, and word sent to Mr. Farwell. 
 
 Larsen had orders from the Hall to assume com- 
 mand, to put the new men to work, and to withstand 
 any attack from the strikers. He was told also to send 
 for machinists to mend the broken property and he 
 was to guard the shops from now on. 
 
 The boys congratulated themselves upon the success 
 of their efforts, as well as their get-away. But they 
 had some difficulty with Joan. 
 
 "If Saunders dies, you know, they can get me for 
 murder," she remarked. 
 
 "But they won't get you there's no evidence. 
 
 189
 
 1 90 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 How would they ever think of your being there, to say 
 nothing of busting old Saunders' coco?" Dick pro- 
 tested. 
 
 "They have ways of finding these things out," she 
 replied. 
 
 "But you aren't even a stroiker !" Patsy said. 
 
 "Isn't she, though? Didn't you see her land on 
 Saunders?" questioned Dick, laughing. 
 
 " Oh, Dick, don't joke about it!" 
 
 "All right, but for Heaven's sake, don't work up any 
 conscience about it. Would you rather I had concus- 
 sion of the brain, than Saunders?" 
 
 "Don't be silly." 
 
 "If you hadn't cracked him, I would be dead. It 
 was great! It was worth my close shave, just to sec 
 you do it, Joan," he said admiringly. 
 
 "If he only won't die!" 
 
 "If he only won't get well and squeal on us!" inter- 
 rupted Patsy. "That's all I'm worryin' over. He 
 saw us, all roight, an' he knew us. He's got no special 
 love for me an' Dick." 
 
 "That's true," sighed Joan. 
 
 "I'd rather he'd croak than git his sinses back," 
 Patsy remarked. 
 
 "Cut it out don't even think about it. We don't 
 know anything about the business," Dick said. 
 
 "By the way, who hit Ben Card?" inquired Joan. 
 
 "Ain't it funny, the way wimmen has got to know 
 names an' dates?" 
 
 "I've got an alibi I didn't even know he was out 
 of the running," Dick said. 
 
 "I may be wrong, but I seem to remimber a big 
 loomp of clay jumpin' up into my fist an' remarkin' 
 *How I would loike to hit the respicted Mayor av this
 
 THE THRESHOLD 191 
 
 town on the nut !' and shortly after that I saw the thing 
 land, an' Card took out time !" 
 
 They all laughed at him, ending that discussion. 
 
 Patsy and Dick tried to get the men to organize 
 some sort of ordered resistance, to be ready at the 
 time the strike breakers were marched to the factory, 
 but it could not be done. The mob spirit was loose, 
 and they could not be made to obey orders. They bus- 
 ily piled up a supply of rocks, old vegetables and other 
 missiles, but they had no interest in Dick's idea of form- 
 ing companies and attacking in relays. 
 
 Joan tried her hand with the women. 
 
 "We can't beat them with force, because they are 
 drilled and ready for us. We've got to use brains. 
 Let the men do the fighting at the factory, but we must 
 find a way to work in the tent town. If we could 
 damage the food supply there, or cut the tent guy 
 ropes, it would do more good than getting our heads 
 broken in a scrap," she said to them. 
 
 They listened to her, and the result was scouting 
 parties of women to watch the station for incoming 
 supplies for the camp, to patrol the tent colony looking 
 for a chance to dump bags of dirt, which they carried, 
 into the food, and to generally conduct a destructive 
 campaign. 
 
 When the strike breakers started for the factory 
 under a guard of huskies, augmented by Card's special 
 police, the men were ready for them, armed with clubs, 
 and anything else they could carry. They had thrown 
 up a rough sort of protection across one end of the 
 factory door yard, behind which they could stand and 
 throw missiles. The guard started them on the double 
 quick, the strikers keeping pace. 
 , "What's yer hurry, scabbies?" cried Patsy. As they
 
 1 92 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 approached the factory building, the scabs saw the re- 
 serves all ready for them behind the redoubts. They 
 increased their pace to a run. The air was suddenly 
 full of bricks, rocks, eggs and other offensive foreign 
 matter. Hisses and hoots, cat-calls, groans greeted 
 them. The accompanying gang of rioters ran ahead 
 and made a stand before the door, barring entrance for 
 one second, until the Guard closed in, hitting right and 
 left with clubs, and threatening to shoot. 
 
 In the end the scabs got in, but not without several 
 wounded. Almost all the windows on the front of 
 the building were broken, during the battle. 
 
 "We'll get them when they come out, boys," cried 
 Dick, excitedly. 
 
 While the men were engaged in this battle royal at 
 the door, two girls, appointed by the women at a sug- 
 gestion from Joan, managed to get inside, through 
 the window broken the night before. They found 
 their way to the wash rooms and various water taps 
 which they turned on. With long poles they shattered 
 the globes of the arc lights in the work rooms. As the 
 guards ran back at the sound of the smashing glass, 
 the girls were on their way out, by the route they had 
 come. As they stepped out of the basement window, 
 however, the sentinel marching at back, captured them, 
 and they were marched off to jail. This was the first 
 arrest, and when the women heard of the fate of their 
 members, they bragged to the men of it. 
 
 "You stood and threw a few rocks, but we do some- 
 thing that counts, and get arrested," they boasted. 
 
 "Shure we couldn't run this strike fer a minute 
 without yez !" Patsy blarneyed them. 
 
 Dick was a sad looking object after the scrap at the 
 door, with a cut in his head from a guard's club, which
 
 THE THRESHOLD 193 
 
 stained his hair and constantly trickled blood down his 
 forehead. He was perfectly unconscious of it. His 
 face was black with dirt, his shirt was torn, but he 
 was having a good time. Boy-like, he loved a fight. 
 For the first time since he had come into the factory 
 district, he felt that his friends were doing something 
 to get their rights. 
 
 Ben Card's police lined up in front of the factory. 
 The men remained long enough to express their opin- 
 ion of them, and then withdrew to make some plans for 
 the next move; and to count their wounded. 
 
 Patsy led Dick off to have his cut looked after by 
 Mrs. Rafferty. Dick protested like a drunken man, 
 at being taken away from the council. He wanted 
 to be in on the next fight. But Patsy had his way. As 
 they crossed the lot.they met Joan, and she took com- 
 mand of Dick, releasing Patsy, who went back to the 
 
 men. 
 
 14 
 
 We'll go to the village doctor, Dick. It might get 
 infected " 
 
 "It's nothing just a scratch. Mrs. Rafferty can 
 fix me up." 
 
 "You'll go to the doctor, just the same," she said, 
 quietly, her hand on his arm. "Does it hurt?" He 
 shook his head. "My you are a sight!" she added. 
 
 "It was some fight, Joan you ought to have been 
 there." 
 
 "I've seen enough fights. They get you nowhere." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "We've had two already, a dozen men are cut up 
 with the clubs the guards used, one man is shot and the 
 scabs are established in the factory. What good has 
 it done?" 
 
 "We aren't through with them, yet!"
 
 194 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "We can't beat them unless we organize the fight 
 and use our brains. This mob business never gets any- 
 where." 
 
 Before he could reply, a shout caught their attention. 
 The car from the Hall, driven by Jergens, with Mr. 
 Farwell on the front seat beside him, appeared, fol- 
 lowed by a hooting rabble of women, who ran beside 
 it, calling t out insults, and occasionally throwing a rock. 
 
 Mr. Farwell paid no least attention to the attending 
 furies. He looked ahead, unconcerned. 
 
 "It's Uncle Greg!" exclaimed Dick. 
 
 Just then, Gregory caught sight of the boy's ghastly, 
 blood-stained face, and he ordered Jergens to stop. 
 
 "Dick!" called Mr. Farwell, "what has happened to 
 the boy, Joan?" 
 
 The crowd closed in about the car; the men sighting 
 the excitement from afar, began to run toward it. The 
 clamour of the women increased, as they shut the car 
 in a ring. 
 
 "He must not stop here they'll mob him," cried 
 Joan, trying to beat her way through to the machine. 
 
 "Get out of the way there, you !" cried Gregory, 
 authoritatively. "Can't you see my nephew is hurt? 
 Get in the car, Dick, and we'll go for a doctor." 
 
 "Oh, his precious little Dickie! We can rot down 
 here in his old shanties, but don't let anything happen 
 to his Dickie !" jeered a woman. 
 
 "It's King Farwell! He's come to pay us a visit at 
 last," cried another. 
 
 "Ye would run in scabs on us, would ye? Well, 
 we'll show you before we're done with you !" shouted 
 one of the men, throwing a rock which struck the motor 
 and glanced off. 
 
 "I don't intend to discuss my business with you, now,
 
 THE THRESHOLD 195 
 
 or at any time. If you don't like the way I manage it, 
 get out. I intend to run it exactly as I see fit, and on 
 terms which are agreeable to me. If you won't do the 
 work there, I'll hire men who will. There is still a 
 law in this state which protects private property, there 
 is still a state's prison penalty for property's destruc- 
 tion. That's all I have to say. Now get out of the 
 way and let my nephew get into this car." 
 
 He stood up facing them all, a target for attack, but 
 nobody moved to touch him. The silence lasted only 
 a second. 
 
 "That's all ye got to say, is it? Well then, ye can 
 listen to us. It's about time there was an end to you 
 an' your kind. We ain't no Russian serfs, ye know " 
 
 An angry murmur rose, and another rock flew 
 straight at Gregory. It missed him but he never 
 flinched to avoid it. 
 
 "Come on, Dick," cried Joan. "Let us through 
 let us in there," she repeated, beating people aside, 
 pushing and pulling. 
 
 "Stand away from this car or I'll charge into the 
 crowd!" shouted Gregory. 
 
 Dick at Joan's side, stopped. 
 
 "Come on, Dick we've got to get to him " 
 
 "Not after that," said the boy bitterly. 
 
 Joan went on alone and finally sprang to the run- 
 ning* board. She had no idea what she would say to 
 them, only she knew they mifst not attack Gregory. 
 As she turned to look into their angry faces, she felt 
 a great despair for them. How stupid they were 
 running like mad dogs in the pack! Her eye caught a 
 string of wagons coming from the railroad station. 
 She took a chance on it. 
 
 "Don't waste your time on this man he's just one
 
 196 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 individual. It's the system we want to change. 
 There go the supply wagons with food for the scabs. 
 There's your work for you !" she cried. 
 
 They answered with a shout and charged in the di- 
 rection of the wagons, as if impelled by one instinct. 
 Dick ran with them. 
 
 Gregory looked at her earnestly. 
 
 "I am, I suppose, obliged to you, Miss Babcock. It 
 is a trifle embarrassing to owe protection to a woman." 
 
 "It's stupid of you to defy them now," she said 
 hotly. "They'll kill you without a thought." 
 
 "As they did poor Saunders " 
 
 "He isn't dead!" she cried. 
 
 "Very near it, poor soul. I've just come from 
 there. He's got about one chance in fifty." The 
 acuie distress in her face struck him. She was as sensi- 
 tive to the ugliness of this fight as he was. It sickened 
 him to think of her as part of it. "How was Dick 
 hurt?" 
 
 "In the fight at the factory. It isn't serious." 
 
 "Will you get him to a doctor?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Thank you. I suppose things will be worse before 
 they're better down here ?" 
 
 "I should think so. The men are crazy mad at 
 the scabs." 
 
 "I don't intend to submit to this fighting and destruc- 
 tion of property." 
 
 She made no answer. She stepped off the running 
 board, and faced him. 
 
 "Don't come down here again until this is settled," 
 she said earnestly. 
 
 "My dear Miss Babcock," he smiled, "I really can- 
 not let your short-tempered friends interfere with my
 
 THE THRESHOLD 197 
 
 personal liberty. Look after Dick and can't you 
 keep out of it yourself?" he appealed. 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 "All right, Jergens back to the Hall," he said, 
 bowing to her, with grave courtesy. She watched the 
 car until it was safely away and he, in turn, looked 
 back at the girl, with an overpowering longing to go 
 back and snatch her up into safety to carry her away 
 out of this sordid, stupid fight. Surely there were 
 finer uses to which her powers might be devoted. He 
 thought of that rabble, and shuddered.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 JOAN succeeded in getting Dick to a doctor who 
 plastered up his cuts, and then, on his promise 
 that he and Patsy were going to turn in and sleep 
 until noon, she went to her room to try for some rest 
 herself. The strain of their all night fight, her terror 
 lest she had killed Saunders, and last and most im- 
 portant, her anxiety over Gregory's defiance of the 
 mob had left her a nervous wreck. She wanted to 
 hide herself away and cry. 
 
 But when she threw herself down on her bed, she 
 found herself unable to relax a muscle. She had only 
 an hour or so, because she must be on hand when the 
 strikers made the next move. She felt herself as re- 
 sponsible for Dick's safety, as if he were her own child. 
 Gregory had charged her to look after the boy, and she 
 felt that this was the only way she could make up to 
 him, for the havoc she had wrought in his life. 
 
 She knew that she must not allow herself to think 
 about Gregory now. She must keep her thoughts free 
 of him. She began to vaguely realize that he ham- 
 pered her judgment not Gregory, the employer and 
 capitalist she utterly disapproved of him but Greg- 
 ory the man, Gregory, the friend. She despised her- 
 self for being proud of the way he had stood up, in the 
 face of that mob, and defied them. He was so per- 
 fectly true to his own principles. 
 
 She tried to hold her mind upon the women's part in 
 the strike. She wanted to work out a way to make 
 them effective, but it was hard to know how to manage 
 
 198
 
 THE THRESHOLD 199 
 
 them. She tried to foresee the things that might hap- 
 pen to Dick and Patsy, so that she could be ready for 
 anything, but her unruly, ever active mind continually 
 ran away from her, away from the ugly, brutal fight, 
 up the hill to find peace and refreshment with Gregory. 
 Finally she gave up the idea of rest, and sat down at 
 her table, which served as writing desk, and began a 
 letter to Miss Earl, in the hope that she could get away 
 from herself 
 
 "If either one of us could have forseen the events 
 that were to follow upon my chance visit to your office 
 on that fateful day last spring, I wonder if we would 
 have had the courage to face them? My taking the 
 position at Farwell Hall was such a joke to both of us, 
 at that time. But oh, my dear Miss Earl, it has not 
 turned out to be a joke at all ! 
 
 "Some day I hope we may have a long talk together, 
 so that I may explain to you all the many elements 
 which went to make up the situation which led to the 
 crisis I find myself in today. I wrote you that I was 
 interesting young Norton in the study of social condi- 
 tions that I was deliberately trying to waken him to 
 the responsibilities he has to assume at 21, as owner of 
 these factories in Farwell. I seem to remember writ- 
 ing you jocosely about it, threatening to make a good 
 socialist of him. I was so sure of myself, Miss Earl, 
 so damnably sure. How sardonic it is that we little 
 mortals go on thinking that our rule of thumb will make 
 all the wrongs right ! We go ruthlessly smashing into 
 other people's lives, forcing our point of view upon 
 them, demanding our own way . . . 
 
 "Dear Miss Earl, my young pupil ran ahead of his 
 teacher. He took a job in his own factory to study the
 
 200 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 conditions. He urged the organization of the men 
 and women into unions. Mr. Farwell had him dis- 
 missed as a trouble-maker the union called a strike. 
 
 "All night we have been in a terrible fight with police- 
 men and strike breakers. I suppose you can't even 
 picture it, hand to hand fighting, scratching, throwing 
 rocks, running with the pack. I fought beside Dick; 
 he was cut in the head. Once he was attacked and I 
 nearly killed the man who assaulted him. Just now 
 we have a lull but later no one knows what may hap- 
 pen. The workers have been patient for many years, 
 but now they are thoroughly aroused. 
 
 "That spring day in your office laid the fuse to all 
 this, Miss Earl!" 
 
 She sealed it and posted it on her way to the Raf- 
 ertys'. She felt better for having written it. Mrs. 
 Rafferty was on guard, trying to keep the house quiet so 
 the boys could sleep. She beckoned Joan into the 
 kitchen. 
 
 "Slapin' loike babies," she whispered to the girl. 
 "Ye don't look anny too rested yersilf," she added. 
 
 "I couldn't sleep. Oh, Mrs. Rafferty, I wish we 
 were out of this ! It's all my doing that Dick ever went 
 to work in the shops." 
 
 "Joan," said the elder woman, laying her big, kind, 
 red hand on the girl's arm, "what is, is. It don't do 
 no good to wisht the past differunt. Dick moight be in 
 worse business than stroikin' I" 
 
 "But I don't want those two boys to be hurt, and I 
 know the minute Card gets out, he'll lay for them." 
 
 "Let Card look out fer himsilf, then. My Patsy 
 can take care of hissilf, an' a broken head won't kill 
 Dick," she replied cheerfully.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 201 
 
 "What's the matter with me, anyhow, Mrs. Raf- 
 ferty? I know this strike is right. I know it's time 
 the workers demanded better conditions, and yet my 
 heart isn't in it at all." 
 
 "Well, ye're toired out fer wan thing. Don't get 
 to thinkin' ye started this foight, my gurl. 'Tis due 
 this long toime, an' it would a' come, with er without 
 you an' Dick." 
 
 "You are a comfort, dear Mrs. Rafferty." 
 
 "The byes is tellin' me King Farwell had the nerve 
 to come a showin' hissilf in the village," the Irish 
 woman continued. 
 
 Joan nodded. 
 
 "I'm sorry they didn't smash a cabbage in his smilin' 
 face," she remarked hotly. 
 
 "Mr. Farwell thinks his way is right," Joan de- 
 fended him feebly. 
 
 "Does he now? I'd loike a few words with him. 
 I'd give him my opinion on the way he does in the 
 factory, the great big hog!" 
 
 Joan had never seen her friend angry before, but 
 she was aroused this time. Gregory Farwell typified 
 to her all the greed and injustice in the world, just as 
 "The Company" had been the composite devil of 
 Joan's childhood in Whiting. She tried to recapture 
 her old hatred for those men. Were they, too, kindly 
 human beings, with families and friendly human rela- 
 tions, as Gregory was? Were they, perhaps, as much 
 a part of the system, as the men and women they em- 
 ployed? Was it unthinkable that they should come to 
 extend these human relations to the men who worked 
 for them, so that they might work with them? 
 
 Mrs. Rafferty's list of the things she would tell King 
 Farwell brought Joan back from her far flight.
 
 202 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 Maybe Mrs. Rafferty was right perhaps forcing 
 Gregory and his kind to do the just and fair thing, was 
 the only way. 
 
 "Do you believe the workers would be fair, Mrs. 
 Rafferty, if we had the power?" 
 
 "I do not. No human bein's with power is goin' 
 to be fair, unless they're forced to it," was her instant 
 answer. 
 
 Dick came into the room, fairly staggering with 
 sleep. 
 
 "Hello," he said. "Isn't Patsy awake yet?" 
 
 "No. Did yez slape, bye ?" 
 
 "Like a log. Did you, Joan?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 He came over and laid his hand on her shoulder. 
 
 "Look here, old dear, you'll be done up if you don't 
 let go." 
 
 "I can't, Dick. I'm all right. What is to be done 
 next?" 
 
 "We think they'll try to get the scabs' dinner into 
 the factory to them, rather than risk marching them 
 out. We want to add a little seasoning to their soup." 
 
 "It's all right to bother the scabs, but it doesn't get 
 us anywhere." 
 
 "Ye ought to break up some more of yer machines, 
 Dick, that cripples the output," Mrs. Rafferty urged. 
 
 "Patsy and I are to have another go at them to- 
 night," he agreed. 
 
 "Card will get you two boys first, if he can. You 
 know that, don't you?" 
 
 "Sure we know ut," said Patsy, strolling in. "Card 
 is lookin' fer a chanct to put his dirk into meT 
 
 "Don't let it happen, then " she urged. 
 
 "Say, lady, I wasn't bornded yisterday," he grinned.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 205 
 
 "Come on, Dick. The fellas is gatherin' in 
 lot." 
 
 They went out, and presently Joan and Mrs. Raf- 
 ferty followed them. The whole district was drifting 
 toward the commissariat tent, where the cooks could 
 be seen working over their great pots. The noon 
 whistle blew as usual, but nothing happened. Pres- 
 ently a detachment of the special village police marched 
 toward the cook tent. 
 
 "Here they come, fellas git ready wit yer old eggs 
 an' vegetables for the scabbies' dinner," shouted a 
 striker. They were mostly armed with pockets full 
 of contributions. The village police got together for 
 a conference. Even aided by the scab guards they 
 could not hold off the whole crowd and help carry the 
 food at the same time. The man who was trying to 
 direct them, kept one eye on the strikers. In answer to 
 his urgent orders, a cook swung a huge iron kettle onto 
 the ground in front of the tent. Instantly a rock, well 
 aimed, knocked off the lid, and a shower of donations 
 was hurled at the cauldron. A proportion of them 
 landed, to the tune of much laughter from the strikers. 
 
 " 'Tis better to give than to receive," howled one 
 of them. 
 
 The cook hastily withdrew the kettle and after in- 
 effectual efforts to fish out the foreign matter, he called 
 the guards all inside. 
 
 After prolonged discussion they appeared and went 
 back to the factory. 
 
 "Come on, boys, they're goin' to march the scabs 
 out after all." 
 
 With a yell they ran after the retreating forms of 
 the police. They stood on guard before the doors 
 again, while the leader went inside. Presently he re-
 
 204 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 turned and gave an order. The special deputies drew 
 their revolvers and the scabs marched out. The strik- 
 ers began to follow them across to the camp. 
 
 Dick called to Patsy and Joan saw them with several 
 others drop away from the mob, and make a detour 
 back toward the farthest of the factory buildings. 
 Only the main building was guarded. A picket was on 
 duty, protecting the rest of the shops. Joan followed 
 her boys. She suspected that they were going to try 
 to disable more machines. 
 
 As she came into the yards at the back, she saw the 
 main members of the scouting party engaging the picket 
 in a lively argument. He gave a signal of distress 
 which brought the other guard from the big building to 
 the rescue. 
 
 At that moment Dick and Patsy cut across for the 
 basement windows, through which they had gained ac- 
 cess on the night before. Joan ran in after them, but 
 decided to stay on guard at the bottom of the stairs. 
 She heard them running about overhead. Then there 
 was a sound of some one, on the gravel path coming 
 toward the house. She sped up the stairs and warned 
 the boys. They made for a side window, dropped ten 
 feet and got away but Joan turned to face two of 
 the policemen. They grabbed her and hurried her out, 
 taking her by a back way to the police station. There 
 they locked her up on a charge of attempt to destroy 
 property. She asked to be put in with the other strik- 
 ing girls. But she was led to a cell which was exceed- 
 ingly dirty and uncomfortable, and left to her own 
 reflections. 
 
 At first she was glad to be there. She had saved the 
 boys, and for the time being she was out of it. She 
 had no responsibility to shoulder. But as the after-
 
 THE THRESHOLD 205 
 
 noon waned and she thought of the night in that hateful 
 place, she began to think of ways of getting out. 
 Then, too, it might be that this particular night would 
 be the time when Dick needed her most. The temper 
 of the strikers was growing uglier hour by hour She 
 really ought to be out, and in the fight. 
 
 She finally wrote a line on a paper to Gregory. "In 
 jail. Will you help me?" and persuaded the jail 
 keeper to telephone it to Farwell Hall. Then she sat 
 down to await his answer. It got dark in the cell, and 
 friendly mice began to run about. Joan felt as if 
 creepy things were making their sure way toward her. 
 She walked up and down impatiently. Suppose Greg- 
 ory were not at the Hall suppose he had gone to New 
 York. She might have to stop in this filthy place for 
 days ! Why hadn't Dick and Patsy discovered that she 
 was lost ? They would never give a thought to her, the 
 selfish young beasts ! 
 
 She worked herself into a fever of nerves before 
 the sound of the jailer's coming and the light of his 
 lantern encouraged her. 
 
 "Did you send the message?" she called eagerly. 
 
 "Joan!" came Gregory's deep voice in protest. 
 
 He stood outside the barred door looking through at 
 her, in the midst of the dark, smelly cell. 
 
 "Oh I thought you would never come," she ex- 
 claimed, with a relieved sense of everything being all 
 right now. She swallowed hard and tried to smile at 
 him. "I got arrested," she ended feebly. 
 
 "Hurry with that door," he ordered the man. She 
 stepped out and he laid his hand on her arm and led 
 her out. 
 
 "Am I free now?" she asked him. 
 
 "Yes. I got the charge dismissed this time as it
 
 2o6 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 was my property you were destroying, but I can't prom- 
 ise to do that again." 
 
 "I wasn't destroying your property. I went in to 
 warn Dick and Patsy, and they got me. The boys es- 
 caped. I wouldn't have asked you to get me out, but 
 I think I ought to be with Dick tonight. The crowd 
 is getting ugly." 
 
 He stood looking down at her earnestly. 
 
 "Can't you come out of this? If you knew how I 
 felt when I saw you in that filthy hole " 
 
 "I can't come out of it, Gregory, until you come in. 
 Don't you see that?" she said with an earnestness equal 
 to his own. They neither of them knew that for the 
 first time she had used his Christian name. 
 
 "It's such futile business, child," he protested. 
 
 "I'm in this thing now. I must see it through," she 
 answered. "It's the only way you've left us." 
 
 He bowed, and lifted his hat to leave her. 
 
 "Thank you so much for coming to help me," she 
 said. 
 
 He smiled at that, and her heart shut with a little 
 spasm of pain. When he was gone, she hurried back 
 to the Raffertys'. The boys had grabbed their sup- 
 per and gone out, Mrs. Rafferty reported. She in- 
 sisted on giving Joan something to eat. In answer 
 to Joan's questions as to whether the boys had missed 
 her, the Irish woman said that they supposed she 
 had gone to her room. Joan told the story of her 
 arrest. 
 
 "An' how did ye git out?" 
 
 "I sent for Mr. Farwell and he got me off." 
 
 "Fer the love av Mike!" exclaimed Mrs. Rafferty. 
 At that moment a suspicion was born in her mind. 
 
 "Did they tell you what was on tonight?"
 
 THE THRESHOLD 207 
 
 "No there was an awful scrap whin the scabs wint 
 back at noon, an' another whin they come out at six. 
 They do say the three big machines is busted, too. 
 Trouble tonight, I'm thinkin'." 
 
 "Many of our men hurt in the scrap?" 
 
 "Shure, about tin heads busted, the byes was sayin'. 
 Wan av thim fool specials shot into the air! A few 
 more mistakes loike that, an' they'll be the divil to 
 pay." 
 
 "Are you coming out?" 
 
 "I am. I ain't goin' to miss the big show." 
 
 They went along together, to where the strikers 
 stood in groups, in the lot. There were a few speakers 
 haranguing here and there, but no excitement was afoot 
 so far. They came upon Dick and Patsy, together as 
 usual. 
 
 "Where did you cut to, after you gave us the warn- 
 ing?" Dick asked Joan. 
 
 "I cut to jail ! I'd have been there yet, if I'd had to 
 depend on you !" she retorted. 
 
 "Jail? What do you mean?" he demanded. 
 
 "They caught me before I could run " 
 
 "They arrested you?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "Damn them!" cried Dick. 
 
 "How did ye get out?" Patsy interrupted. 
 
 "Mr. Farwell got me out." 
 
 "Why didn't you send for me?" Dick said hotly. 
 
 "Because I didn't think you'd do any good. It's all 
 right now, so long as I'm out." 
 
 Just then a boy came tearing across the lot toward 
 them. 
 
 "Card has called out the militia," he shouted, "the 
 troopers are coming on the 9 :2O train."
 
 2o8 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 This was greeted with a roar of anger. Voices took 
 up the news and passed it on. 
 
 "Git together what ye can, byes, an' give the militia 
 a hearty welcome. This is King Farwell's work 
 yez can bet." 
 
 They ran for any kind of weapon which they 
 hoarded and in a few minutes the lot was vacant, save 
 for the tents. The crowd surrounded the station, just 
 as it had to receive the scabs. Only this time they 
 were silent, instead of joking. Faces were white and 
 set. When the troops came, real trouble came. 
 
 Joan and Mrs. Rafferty urged the boys not to make 
 any rush upon the militia it would only mean shoot- 
 ing. Joan made a speech, begging the men to let the 
 troops in without resistance, and to use their brains to 
 outwit them. The militia could not think, it could only 
 shoot. 
 
 Card appeared as the train was due. He had a ban- 
 dage on his head, and he was conspicuously armed. 
 
 "If you fellows make any breaks here tonight, there 
 will be fewer of ye here tomorrow," he shouted as the 
 train came in. 
 
 The militk detrained, revolvers drawn, and began to 
 march through the crowd, shoving men and women 
 aside roughly. 
 
 The strikers raised a yell of hate. 
 
 "Forward charge I" rapped the order. The sol- 
 diers plunged through, and the crowd gave fight. The 
 strikers managed to break up the alignment for a sec- 
 ond. The officer ordered them to clear the station 
 platform. In the fracas, Card made for Patsy, bran- 
 dishing his revolver. Mrs. Rafferty saw him coming. 
 She was carrying a length of pipe which she swung and
 
 THE THRESHOLD 209 
 
 hit Card in the wrist, throwing his revolver into the 
 crowd. Somebody grabbed it and shot. 
 
 At that the militia opened fire deliberately. There 
 were men, women and children in the crowd. Dick 
 was standing on a bench against the wall, where he 
 could watch the proceeding. The cold cruelty of what 
 happened was burned into the boy's brain. He saw 
 the soldiers fire, he saw people fall all about him he 
 saw one child clutch at his mother's skirts, then dis- 
 appear. It was all over in a few seconds, and the 
 militia was on its way, double quick to the factor}'. 
 The strikers staid behind to gather up their wounded. 
 Dick saw Joan and Mrs. Rafferty at work over the 
 child he recognized it as little Jim Rafferty. He saw 
 that Patsy was all right, and then, slowly, like a dazed 
 drunken thing, he started to run slowly after the dis- 
 appearing soldiers.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 GREGORY went back to the Hall, after get- 
 ting Joan out of jail, with his mind a seething 
 torment. The mere thought of the girl in 
 that filthy cell, where the town drunkard had probably 
 spent the previous night, was enough to distract him. 
 What worse things might happen to her? The law- 
 lessness of a mob like that knew no bounds. She could 
 not know what dangers she played with, and he was 
 coming back to the safety of the Hall, leaving her 
 down there with those devils. He wished the town of 
 Farwell were in the bottom of the sea ! He wished his 
 father and his great grandfather had spent their money 
 in riotous living, rather than to have established the 
 hated factories. Should he call off Larsen, counter- 
 mand the Saunders orders, give in to the workers, and 
 so get Dick and Joan to come home again? 
 
 His dinner went off the table, course after course 
 scarcely touched. How could he eat? What were 
 those children eating for their dinner? There was no 
 place in the village they must be depending on some 
 cheap boarding house food. It spoiled all the deli- 
 cacies the cook sent up. The cook, in turn, wept. 
 Later in the evening Mrs. Craddock invaded the 
 library to protest. 
 
 "Mr. Farwell, sir" 
 
 "Ah Mrs. Craddock?" he said, looking up from 
 the book he was pretending to read. 
 
 2IO
 
 THE THRESHOLD 211 
 
 "Unless you can make out to eat more, sir, Annie the 
 cook, will leave. She sez as she hez been here for 
 many a year, but she still has her proper pride." 
 
 "What has my appetite to do with Annie's proper 
 pride?" he inquired. 
 
 "If you don't like her cookin', she prefers not to 
 stay." 
 
 "Nonsense! Tell her I do like her cooking. I 
 have not been very well for a few days, that is all." 
 
 "It's been ever since Mr. Dick left us, Mr. Far- 
 well." 
 
 "Has it? Well, possibly so." 
 
 "Nothing has been the same, sir, since that vampire 
 came among us " 
 
 "Vampire, Craddock?" 
 
 "That woman." 
 
 "That will do, Craddock," sharply. "Miss Bab- 
 cock is doing me the very great service of looking after 
 my nephew, during some trouble he has got us all into. 
 I am very grateful to her." 
 
 "Excuse me, sir. I didn't mean to bust out like 
 that." 
 
 "Don't let it happen again, please." 
 
 "No, sir. Are we to keep on with that office sys- 
 tem in the house that that was lately installed?" 
 
 "Certainly. I want everything to go on exactly as 
 it did under Miss Babcock's management." 
 
 "Very good, sir," with an abused sigh. 
 
 "Good night, Mrs. Craddock." 
 
 "Good night, Mr. Farwell. You wouldn't be goin' 
 to New York, sir?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Cook an' I was wonderin' if you wouldn't ask some 
 company to stay with you, sir "
 
 212 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "You and cook need not worry at all about me, 
 Craddock. I do not want company, nor a f rip to New 
 York," he smiled. 
 
 "Good night, sir." 
 
 "You and cook may go to New York, if you like." 
 
 "Oh, no, sir." 
 
 After her departure he set himself determinedly to 
 keep his mind off speculation as to what was happening 
 in the village. He tried several new books, arrived 
 by post that very day. One interested him for half 
 an hour because he thought Joan would like it. He 
 laid it down finally and played a few records on the 
 victrola her favourites or Dick's. When he realized 
 what he was doing, he shut it off angrily. Why could 
 he not dismiss the precious pair from his thoughts. 
 They gave him and his rights good and little considera- 
 tion. They did not care if he sat up there, worrying 
 himself sick about them. Not they, they were too in- 
 tent upon setting his employes against him, they were 
 too absorbed in wrecking his property. He went over 
 Dick's denunciation of him, recalling every word. He 
 remembered how the boy had started to come toward 
 the car with Joan, in answer to his call that day in the 
 street, and how he turned away with a look of absolute 
 hate. 
 
 Joan's concern for his safety, her appeal to him to 
 keep out of harm's way, up at the Hall, irked him. 
 Did he seem an old man to her, needing a woman's 
 protection? He glowed at the thought of how she 
 sprang to his rescue, facing that mob even while he 
 raged at it. 
 
 Her words of parting, after her release from jail, 
 spoke themselves again "I cannot come out, until you
 
 THE THRESHOLD 213 
 
 come in, Gregory " She had said that surely she 
 had called him Gregory. It had not come to him at 
 the time. 
 
 He went to the window and looked down toward 
 the village. Its lights twinkled dimly, a scattered 
 group. 
 
 "Joan!" he said aloud "Joan." 
 
 He paced up and down the long room. Must he 
 give up the habit of his lifetime, must he tear down 
 the slowly builded wall, which he had laid, stone on 
 stone, between himself and this 2Oth Century world? 
 Must he at the call of this girl, go down into the arena 
 he had scorned, and do battle like the rest of the un- 
 fortunates born of this hateful time? Was he willing 
 to make this sacrifice for the love of this girl? It 
 seemed to have settled into that in his thoughts. 
 
 He went back to the window and gave himself up 
 to the dream of loving her, being loved by her. All 
 at once something caught his eye held it. He gave a 
 low exclamation and stood still. 
 
 Joan had stayed behind when the strikers had run 
 after the troops, to help some of the other women with 
 the ones who had been hurt. They gave such rough 
 first-aid as they could until the doctor came. He or- 
 dered a wagon, lined with straw from the livery stable 
 and they managed to get the injured ones home. Mo 
 one was killed, by some miracle. 
 
 Mrs. Rafferty and Joan waited until the last one was 
 disposed of. Then between them they carried Jim 
 home. The doctor had bandaged the child's leg, where 
 the bullet went through, and he promised to come in at 
 the first opportunity to see that the boy was all right. 
 He had several more serious wounds to attend to first.
 
 2i 4 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 Joan insisted that a cot be made up for Jimmy in the 
 parlour, where Dick slept. Mrs. Rafferty protested 
 that it was Dick's room and he might not like it, but 
 Joan took matters in her own hands and together they 
 made a bed and got the boy into it. He was nervous 
 and excited and all the other Rafferty children were the 
 same. They could not be kept out of the parlour, so 
 thrilled were they with their brother's importance. 
 
 "I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll get these youngsters 
 to bed and sit with them until Dick and Patsy come in. 
 You lie down on Dick's bed, near Jimmy, Mrs. Raf- 
 ferty." 
 
 "Ye can't sit up with all yer clothes on gurl," pro- 
 tested Mrs. Rafferty. 
 
 "I'll run over to my room and get a heavy bathrobe. 
 Then I can make myself comfortable. You go on in 
 the parlour and shut the door. Jimmy must get to 
 sleep." 
 
 "Ye certainly arr a dearr!" quoth Mrs. Rafferty, 
 obeying orders. 
 
 Joan offered a prize to the first Rafferty to get into 
 bed before her return. She hurried to her room, got 
 the wrapper, a book, and a letter from Miss Earl 
 which was under her door, and was back in a very 
 short time. All the young Raffertys were disposed of 
 for the night, and a babel arose as to which one had 
 won the prize. 
 
 "I'll give each one of you a prize in the morning, if 
 you'll go right to sleep now, chick-a-biddies," she 
 smiled. 
 
 So four pairs of eyelids were scrouged together in 
 the effort to induce immediate sleep. Joan managed to 
 get off some of her clothes, and to make herself easy. 
 She set the kerosene lamp in the corner farthest away
 
 THE THRESHOLD 215 
 
 from the children, and sat down to open Miss Earl's 
 letter. It was a strange place for a letter of little Miss 
 Earl's to be read. The quaint, introspective New 
 England face came before Joan's eye. What would 
 Miss Earl do in an armed camp, Joan wondered. 
 
 "My dear Joan Babcock " it began. "I can no 
 longer think nor say 'Miss Babcock,' because you have 
 let me come into your life and thoughts in such an inti- 
 mate way. I feel myself to be all wrapped up in this 
 strange, unheard-of situation you are in. Truly it is 
 well that the gift of prophecy is rare with us. As you 
 say the chance meeting of that spring day was to change 
 several lives. I look forward with great impatience to 
 the time when I can hear the whole story and come to 
 know all its interweaving elements. The facts you 
 give me of the present crisis are indeed startling. I 
 wish I could look in on you at this moment and see 
 what is happening with you. I shall be very anxious 
 until I know you are safe. 
 
 "But as to the immediate situation, I want to say this. 
 The world is thrust forward by such dynamic personali- 
 ties as yours, even by your mistakes. There is danger 
 in action, but more in tranquil inaction, in feeble acqui- 
 escence in the face of injustice and wrong. 
 
 "I suppose this will sound strange to you, coming 
 from me. I belong so to my past, to my forbears. 
 With all the liberating influences of my education, my 
 experience, my own thinking, my first instinctive reac- 
 tion is the norm of the long line of conservatives behind 
 me. But you you stand out all by yourself belong- 
 ing to yourself. You must believe in yourself! I be- 
 lieve in you entirely. Whatever you may have done 
 to -arouse this boy to his duty, you did from the highest 
 motives. It must work out for good, my dear.
 
 216 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "The thought of the poor, elegant Mr. Farwell does 
 distress me somewhat. But he is like me, I think, a 
 part of his past, and we must step aside for you, who 
 are the future. . . ." 
 
 Joan sat and pondered that sentence for a long time. 
 It touched her deeply, Miss Earl's belief in her. From 
 the very first moment she had looked into the clear, 
 grey eyes of the head of the Bureau, she had known 
 that they understood each other. Totally unlike in 
 nature and inheritance, there had happened between 
 them in a fl'ash of eyes, that subtle thing we call affinity. 
 She read the letter again. Her friend was right. She 
 must not lose her confidence in herself, in the right- 
 eousness of her Cause, even if it did bring personal suf- 
 fering to Dick and Gregory and herself. Aye, and to 
 the Raffertys and all their friends in the factory. But 
 it was right that men should get the decencies of living 
 in exchange for a life of toil. That was the fight she 
 and Dick were in on. . . . 
 
 She heard the sound of some one out back of the 
 shanty, some one in the lean-to where Mrs. Rafferty 
 kept the kerosene can and the pails and tubs and extras 
 needed by her family. Thinking it was one of the 
 boys, she stepped to the door, opened it and spoke 
 softly, not to awaken the children. There was no 
 answer no sound of any one moving, although she 
 was sure she had heard something strike one of the 
 pails. She closed the door again, but stood looking 
 out. Presently she heard it again then she was sure 
 she saw some one move out of the shadow and run. 
 She was frightened now. She tip-toed to the parlour 
 door, to speak to Mrs. Rafferty, but the noise of her 
 snoring indicated that she was getting a much-needed 
 rest. Joan went back to the rear door to watch.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 217 
 
 Then the front door opened and closed. Quickly, 
 with beating heart, she went to the hall. It was 
 Patsy 
 
 "Hello you here! Where's ma?" 
 
 "In there with Jimmy. Where's Dick?" 
 
 "Ain't he here? 4 ' 
 
 "No. What happened?" 
 
 "Nuthin'. No use goin' up against guns, ye know. 
 The tin soldiers has gone to bed, so us fellas is goin' 
 to do loikewise." 
 
 "But wasn't Dick with you?" 
 
 "No. I seen him go after the militia from the sta- 
 tion. I staid to see if Jimmy was hurt bad, ye re- 
 mimber, an' whin I run on, I didn't see 'im." 
 
 "But, Patsy, where can he be?" anxiously. 
 
 "I'll go out an' have a look. Some durty scab may 
 a knocked him out " 
 
 "I'll go with you." 
 
 "Ye'll not. Stay here, I'll be back in a jiffy." 
 
 He went out, and Joan went back into the kitchen to 
 wait. She covered up all the children before she drew 
 her chair to the window. 
 
 When Dick left the station to run after the militia 
 he had no definite idea in his mind as to where he was 
 going or what he intended to do. He had seen sol- 
 diers shoot into a crowd of unarmed women and chil- 
 dren, who were doing no harm, breaking no law. He 
 felt he must make his protest against the whole system, 
 somehow, this very night, while this fury burned within 
 him. 
 
 He saw that the crowd gathered about the soldiers 
 in the lot, but he did not join it. He went away over 
 to the far corner away from everybody, and threw him- 
 self face down on the ground. He was shaking all
 
 2i 8 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 over with excitement, half sobbing. Perhaps the thing 
 to do was to kill himself, to get out of a world where 
 injustice flourished and waxed fat. Gregory Farwell's 
 words came back to him, meaningless before "I can- 
 not live in a world which expresses itself through greed 
 and power." And yet, Uncle Gregory was the root of 
 the evil. It was because he would not do his share in 
 the work of remaking the world, that Farwell was a 
 waste place. Maybe he had come down, sometime in 
 the past and looked it over maybe it had sickened him 
 as it did Dick tonight. He must remember to find out 
 about that. If he had gone up the hill again to his re- 
 mote luxurious life, he was a coward. . . . No Dick 
 could not kill himself, or Uncle Gregory could say the 
 same of him. He must stay on and fight the thing 
 through. Those men, shooting down little Jim Raf- 
 ferty because Uncle Gregory's factory buildings must 
 be protected, forsooth ! Did the militia shoot down 
 Uncle Gregory, who had been breaking, the laws for 
 years the state laws for factory conditions, as well 
 as the laws of human decency? No he was safe, be- 
 cause he had money and power. He had not earned 
 either of them, as Patsy had, he had merely inherited 
 them, but they were none the less pregnant for that. 
 . . . Suppose he, Dick, should refuse his inheritance 
 of the factories, refuse to take a cent he did not earn? 
 But how would that help the boys here? It was 
 quicker for them, if he stood by and built up a model 
 plant ! 
 
 But he was only one individual the System, the 
 exploitation of labour was everywhere, had always 
 been. What could he do to change it? To clean up 
 his own little door yard that was not enough ! He 
 wanted to smash and demolish and build again, hun-
 
 THE THRESHOLD 219 
 
 dreds of model factories, with a co-operative 
 plan. . . . 
 
 A yell from the crowd, in the distance, brought back 
 his tired, overwrought mind to the situation here, now 
 at hand. He could smash and demolish and rebuild 
 here maybe. Little Jim Rafferty shot down for noth- 
 ing, and a woman's face, as they fired, lifted them- 
 selves before him again. He lay perfectly still for 
 several minutes and then he stumbled stiffly to his feet, 
 and approached the crowd. The militia was setting up 
 camp, with the strikers watching and jeering. 
 
 He edged around to the factory yard two sentinels 
 patrolled there. He made a wide detour and came 
 in among the other buildings. Sentries marched to 
 and fro there, also. Uncle Gregory's precious prop- 
 erty was protected now by the state. The strikers paid 
 taxes to the state to support this organization, which 
 could be turned upon them at the call of any property 
 owner. He'd show them what he thought of the whole 
 damnable scheme! 
 
 He hurried back across the lot to Mrs. Rafferty's 
 wood shed. He found what he needed there and ap- 
 propriated it. He was conscious of the shouting and 
 hooting of the crowd he paused to watch the way the 
 shadows shot across it from the bonfire built by the 
 soldiers. The wind was high and the flames leapt up. 
 He scuttled into the darkness himself. He made his 
 way into the yard at back, crawling on his hands and 
 knees, dodging the sentry, every nerve alert and 
 stretched to the breaking point. For an hour he was 
 about his work, making slow progress toward the main 
 building. It took great caution. He could only ad- 
 vance as the sentry walked to the end of his beat, and 
 there was only a second then, before his fellow passed,
 
 220 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 coming the other direction. But the darkness helped. 
 The few lamps had been demolished by strikers, so 
 the sentinels carried lanterns. 
 
 After what seemed years of waiting and crawling 
 forward, Dick managed to get into the basement win- 
 dow which had served him twice before. It did not 
 take him long to accomplish his purpose and then fol- 
 lowed the tedious process of escape. 
 
 It was late when he joined the crowd in the lot, look- 
 ing for Patsy. The men were beginning to fall away 
 toward the shanties. What use was there in going 
 against guns? Death did not help their cause. Dick 
 spoke with several of them then he said good night 
 and started back toward the Raffertys', when a yell 
 arose from the guard at the factory. The camp sentry 
 answered. The strikers stopped in their tracks. A 
 puff of smoke popped out of a window, then a faint 
 glow of colour appeared inside. 
 
 "It's a fire!" cried a striker. The crowd took it up 
 'The factory's on fire!" 
 
 Patsy realized the situation the minute he rounded 
 the corner of the first building, in his search for Dick. 
 
 "What you doin' here?" said a voice behind him 
 and a rough hand laid hold of him. 
 
 He made no answer. The guard called one of his 
 fellows who in turn handed Patsy over to one of Card's 
 policemen. He took him to the jail. 
 
 The village fire department was called in, and re- 
 sponded tardily. The wind was high and the flames 
 had started in every building at once, so that the fire 
 gained ground fast. It seemed only a minute until 
 great flambeaux shot up toward the heavens and threw 
 into high light the mean little shanties that hugged the 
 factory. The whole sky glowed with light, even the
 
 THE THRESHOLD 221 
 
 great house on the hill was tinted with it's red. Greg- 
 ory, standing at his window, remembered Dick's Nero 
 and shivered, even while the fierce beauty of the sight 
 fascinated him. 
 
 It may have been half an hour, it might have been 
 many hours he watched it then with a superb last flare 
 of glory it sank down, and the village was in dark- 
 ness, as if blotted out from him by a huge hand.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 FROM every direction people ran toward the 
 huge bonfire that lighted the town. Half 
 dressed, or in hastily snatched up garments, they 
 hurried to the lots. It was like the mob assembling 
 in a stage scene. The militia drew a fire line about 
 the danger zone. Inside that the fire company, with 
 its meagre equipment, fought bravely but futilely 
 against the encroaching flames. Outside the line, the 
 lot was black with onlookers. Their voices rose and 
 fell in exclamations, as if they were watching fire- 
 works. Nearly all the factory workers were in the 
 crowd, but here and there in the shanties some fright- 
 ened woman was setting out the few possessions in the 
 door yard, for safety. The children were dressed and 
 the old and crippled were hurried out in cots, or in 
 chairs so that they might be moved quickly in case of 
 need. The wind was so high that it would be a miracle 
 if sparks did not fall on the shanties. They would 
 burn like tinder if once they caught fire. 
 
 In the midst of the excitement of getting her moved, 
 the rheumatic old woman, whose house Dick and Joan 
 had visited once, died of heart failure. When her 
 daughter discovered this fact, she knelt on the cold 
 ground, beside her dead until dawn. She never saw 
 the fire at all. 
 
 There was as usual a comic element in the calamity. 
 People dragged the wrong things into safety. One 
 distracted woman emptied her house entirely, except 
 
 222
 
 THE THRESHOLD 223 
 
 for the baby, who slept through the clatter and excite- 
 ment. 
 
 Joan, at the first sight of flames, hurried to arouse 
 Mrs. Rafferty. Together they dressed the children 
 and set Jimmy's cot out of doors. 
 
 "You stay here with them, Mrs. Rafferty, and let me 
 go to look for the boys," Joan said. 
 
 "Don't worry they're all roight " the older 
 women assured her. 
 
 "But Patsy had not seen Dick for an hour or more. 
 Something may have happened to him." 
 
 She made her way across the lot. Great tapers of 
 flame pierced the night sky. The memory of Whiting 
 came to her, with her own phrase "Altar fires of 
 modern commercialism." Her mind was too para- 
 lyzed with the shock of the disaster to question its 
 origin in any way. She had felt a premonition about 
 Dick, ever since she had watched him go from the 
 station. She saw his face the moment before he ran 
 after the militia, and it terrified her. Her fear was 
 that something dreadful had happened to him. She 
 pushed her way up to the fire and spoke to the militia 
 men 
 
 "Has anybody been hurt?" 
 
 "Not as far as I know." 
 
 "Could you find out from somebody?" 
 
 "I could not." 
 
 "How did it start?" 
 
 "Some fella set it afire " 
 
 "Set it afire?" 
 
 "Sure one of yer strikers. State's prison fer him 
 all right, all right." 
 
 "But do they know who did it?" 
 
 "Sure they got him."
 
 224 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "Who was it?" she whispered. 
 
 "I don't know. They got him in the lock-up all 
 right. Friend of yours?" 
 
 She turned away and skirted the crowd, making her 
 way to the village street. Once there, she hurried to 
 the old jail. It was all shut up and she could not get 
 inside. She leaned up against the door, her head 
 against the panel, and tried to think. Somebody must 
 help her she would try to get Gregory. 
 
 At the Raffertys' she found one child on guard over 
 Jimmy but Mrs. Rafferty and the other youngsters had 
 been unable to resist the excitement. 
 
 "Patsy hasn't been here?" Joan demanded. 
 
 "No'm." 
 
 "Nor Dick?" 
 
 "No'm. Plaze, Miss Babcock, stay wit Jimmy an' 
 let me go to the fire?" 
 
 "All right. Find your mother and stay with her." 
 
 The boy was off like a rocket. 
 
 "I want to go I can walk all right," begged Jimmy. 
 
 "Oh, Jimmy dear, stay with me. I don't want to 
 go," wailed Joan. 
 
 He patted her awkwardly. 
 
 "All roight all roight," he said soothingly. 
 
 "Oh, Jimmy, I'm afraid," she whispered. 
 
 "Don't ye be afraid thim foires can't git way over 
 here" 
 
 "It isn't the fire, Jimmy " 
 
 A figure zig-zagged down the street unevenly and 
 turned in the gate. Joan rose quickly. 
 
 "Dick!" she exclaimed. 
 
 He turned a white vacant face toward her, with 
 glowing unnatural eyes. 
 
 "It burns and burns," he said.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 225 
 
 "Dick, where have you been?" 
 
 "Out there, where they shot them shot the woman 
 an' lil' Jimmy Rafferty " his voice trailed off into 
 nothing. 
 
 She peered at him closely. He could not be drunk. 
 
 "He's a coward they shot them," he cried 
 "women and Jimmy Rafferty." 
 
 "Jimmy's here, Dick, he isn't badly hurt," she said. 
 Jimmy began to whimper with fright. 
 
 "It's all wrong I can't bear it but I couldn't " 
 
 "Dick, come to bed, dear you're worn out with 
 excitement," she begged, trying to lead him indoors. 
 
 "No I got to fight it out," he answered wearily. 
 
 She realized that he was 511 now that the shock had 
 been too much. She coaxed him, and petted him and 
 plead with him tmtil she got him indoors, and finally 
 into bed. 
 
 "I want Joan," he said over and over "she can 
 help me." 
 
 "This is Joan, Dick. See I'm here, dear. I shall 
 not leave you." 
 
 "Not you Joan. She can help me. She explains 
 things " 
 
 She dared not leave him to go to the doctor and no 
 one was within call. She went to the door and ex- 
 plained to Jimmy and asked him to summon any one he 
 saw and to lie still, and help her, because Dick was very 
 sick. Then she sat down beside the lad and laid her 
 hand on his hot head and tried to comfort him. But 
 her words never reached that poor tortured brain. He 
 went over and over the shooting, and cried over little 
 Jim Rafferty. 
 
 "Uncle Greg shot him poor Jim he didn't do a 
 thing," he moaned.
 
 226 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "Oh, Dick, don't say that. Why, Uncle Gregory 
 wouldn't hurt a living thing he never saw Jim " she 
 protested. 
 
 "He shot him I saw it," he said and went over it 
 all again. 
 
 The light from the fire sent great waves across the 
 room, as if a searchlight was playing over the district. 
 Joan shuddered and dropped her head in her hands. 
 
 "Oh, God is this my work?" she sobbed. 
 
 Dick's voice went on and on. 
 
 Gregory started from the Hall in a runabout which 
 he drove himself. He had not called any servants or 
 spoken of the fire. It was not the fire which he con- 
 cerned himself with, it was Dick and Joan. The strik- 
 ers had managed to use the torch, obviously, but there 
 had been, no doubt, riot and trouble before they suc- 
 ceeded. He must know whether his two were safe. 
 
 Perhaps the strikers had helped him out of his quan- 
 dary with the factory gone, his two radicals might 
 come home. 
 
 He tore along the dark roads and into the town. 
 He saw the big crowd. He left his car in the road, and 
 hurried to the fire line. There he spoke to the first 
 man he met. 
 
 "What's this? Are you a member of the militia?" 
 
 "Sure." 
 
 "When did the militia come?" 
 
 "Tonight 9 :20." 
 
 "Who called you?" 
 
 "The mayor. Who are you ?" 
 
 "I'm Mr. Farwell the owner of the factory. Any- 
 body hurt here?" 
 
 "Nope. Got the fella who started it he's in jail." 
 
 "So ? Trouble before the fire ?"
 
 THE THRESHOLD 227 
 
 "We shot 'em up a bit, at the station." 
 
 "On whose orders?" 
 
 "They started it." 
 
 "Were they armed?" 
 
 "Somebody had a gun and used it. We returned the 
 compliment." 
 
 "Who was hit?" 
 
 "Several of 'em, I guess." 
 
 "Any dead?" 
 
 "I dunno. Do you want to go through and speak 
 to the Fire Marshall, Mr. Farwell?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 Gregory turned and with his cap pulled low over 
 his face, he went through the crowd looking for his 
 strikers. He saw no sign of them. He did not want 
 to speak to any one for fear of being recognized. If 
 he was, and they started a demonstration against him, 
 he would be delayed in getting to Dick, who might 
 need him. If he only knew where Joan roomed. 
 
 "Is Jim hurt bad, Mrs. Rafferty?" a voice near him 
 said. 
 
 Rafferty, that was the name of the boy who went 
 with Dick on the trip west. He waited until he could 
 get a chance and then he spoke to the woman. 
 
 "Mrs. Rafferty, I'm Mr. Farwell. I'm looking for 
 Dick and Joan. Can you help me?" 
 
 She started and stared at him. All the years she 
 had hated him, she had thought of speeches to hurl at 
 him, if she ever had a chance, the arrogant over-lord I 
 All she saw was an anxious-faced man, who humbly 
 asked her help. 
 
 "Dick is lost an' Joan wint to foind him." 
 
 "Your son would he know ?" 
 
 "I haven't seen him fer hours "
 
 228 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "Will you tell me where my nephew and Miss Bab- 
 cock live ?" 
 
 "She's got a room at the Swigerts' in the village, 
 an' he lives with us." 
 
 "Could I go to your house he might have come 
 back by this time, mightn't he?" 
 
 She started toward the shanties, without a word, 
 Gregory following. He saw nothing, heard nothing 
 of the confusion about him ! 
 
 When they came in sight of the Rafferty cabin, 
 Jimmy set up a shout. Mrs. Rafferty began to run 
 and Gregory kept pace with her. Jimmy started an 
 explanation, as they approached, which brought Joan 
 to the door. 
 
 "Gregory" she cried, "it's Dick" 
 
 "He isn't dead?" 
 
 "No but he's terribly ill. The shock" 
 
 He stepped inside the damp, miserable room, where 
 Dick tossed on a cot. The only light came from the 
 lamp in the hall. Joan brought it in and held it so 
 Gregory could see his nephew. 
 
 "Uncle Greg shot him poor li'l Jimmy he didn't 
 do anything " the dull voice went on. 
 
 "What's he saying?" Gregory demanded. 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 "I want Joan " 
 
 "He doesn't know me," she explained. 
 
 "How long has he been like this?" 
 
 "I don't know it seems years. He staggered in 
 from the fire and I got him to bed." 
 
 "We must get the doctor here," Gregory said. "I'll 
 go for him." 
 
 She nodded and he went away. Joan helped Mrs. 
 Rafferty to carry Jim's cot into the kitchen. The fire
 
 THE THRESHOLD 229 
 
 was dying down now, and people were drifting home- 
 wards. 
 
 "You didn't see Patsy?" she inquired of her friend. 
 
 "No he'll turn up he's somewheres," she re- 
 plied cheerfully. 
 
 It seemed a long time until Gregory came with the 
 doctor. Mrs. Rafferty was summoned and she and 
 Joan answered his many questions as well as they could. 
 
 "He has had a very serious nervous shock, I should 
 say," he said finally. 
 
 "We must get him to the Hall at once," Gregory 
 remarked. "We can put a cot in a big car " 
 
 "I wouldn't move him now, Mr. Farwell," the doc- 
 tor objected. 
 
 "But he can't stay in this place it's damp and 
 awful " Gregory began. 
 
 "All my children hive lived in it most av 'em were 
 born in ut an' it's your house, ye know," Mrs. Raf- 
 ferty said hotly. 
 
 ''Maybe by tonight we could move him but not 
 now," the doctor .epeated. "I'll give him a sleeping 
 powder, and he must have absolute quiet, Mrs. Raf- 
 erty. Can you manage that?" he asked kindly. 
 
 "lean." ' 
 
 The doctor administered the dose and offered to 
 stay the night out. It was nearing dawn now. The 
 Rafferty children trooped home and were hushed and 
 gotten to bed by their mother. The fire was over the 
 factory in ruins. Gregory, Joan and the doctor sat 
 in the Rafferty parlour, and listened to Dick's moaning. 
 
 "Won't you go to your room and rest?" Gregory 
 said to the girl finally. 
 
 "No, thanks, I couldn't." 
 
 The powder finally toek effect and the voice was
 
 230 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 silent. The doctor went away to get his breakfast. 
 At broad daylight Dick had one flash of consciousness, 
 and in that moment he recognized Gregory. 
 
 "No no no Go away!" he cried. "Don't touch 
 me you shot Jimmy Rafferty and he didn't do a thing. 
 Go away from here I won't have you Joan 
 Joan" 
 
 "Yes, Dick, yes." 
 
 "Make him go away. Don't let him hurt Patsy -" 
 
 "No he doesn't want to hurt him. He loves you, 
 Dick," she said brokenly, holding the boy's head against 
 her breast. He clung to her frantically. 
 
 "I'll never go back to the Hall take him away." 
 
 "All right, Dick, I'll go," said Gregory, and left 
 them. 
 
 It was a long time before Joan could get Dick 
 quieted, but at last he fell into a troubled sleep. She 
 went to the door to see if Gregory was outside, but 
 there were no signs of him. The anguish in his face 
 when he had left the room haunted her. 
 
 The Raffertys like all the rest of the district, slept 
 late. Joan longed for a cup of coffee, but she had not 
 the heart to waken those who slept in the kitchen. 
 The doctor came again, left more powders, shook his 
 head at her recital of Dick's outburst against his uncle. 
 
 "Mr. Farwell is at my house now, waiting for word 
 of him. I think we must humour him now. We can 
 manage with him somehow, here, can't we?" 
 
 "Yes. Mrs. Rafferty is kindness itself." 
 
 "I'll have a talk with her. We can get in some 
 things to make him comfortable and a nurse " 
 
 "Couldn't I take care of him, Doctor?" 
 
 "You can help but I want a regular nurse in here 
 for a time. When she comes, by the way, you go
 
 THE THRESHOLD 231 
 
 home, take this, and sleep until I call you," he ordered. 
 
 "I'm all right. There is Mrs. Rafferty now." 
 
 After the doctor and Mrs. Rafferty finished their 
 talk, Joan had a cup of coffee with the disheveled fam- 
 ily. 
 
 "You aren't anxious about Patsy?" she asked again. 
 
 "Love av Mike, gurl, I'd spind me toime frettin* 
 if I was loike you. Patsy can take care of hissilf. He 
 comes an' goes, loike it plazes him. He'll turn up all 
 roight." 
 
 About noon the nurse came, and Joan, tottering 
 with weariness and nerves was sent to her room for a 
 long rest. Mrs. Rafferty promised to come for her if 
 Dick woke up and asked for her. She did not so much 
 as glance at the ruins as she went along She was 
 too worn out to care about anything. Once in her 
 room, she fell on her bed, with her clothes on, and 
 remembered nothing for hours. 
 
 For all of Mrs. Rafferty's reassurance of Joan, she 
 was not entirely easy in her mind about her oldest born. 
 So after the nurse was installed, Joan sent off and the 
 children driven forth, she set out on a still hunt. She 
 went first to Grady's saloon. The entire male popula- 
 tion of the district was there. She inquired about her 
 son no one had seen him. 
 
 "I seen him about eleven o'clock last night, just be- 
 fore the fire broke out, an' he was askin' fer Dick an' 
 sayin' he was goin' home to bed." 
 
 "Dick's in bed at my house with brain fever er 
 somethin', but Patsy ain't showed up " 
 
 "Have ye tried the jail, Mrs. Rafferty?" 
 
 "I have not." 
 
 "Better take a look there. Card would git Pat, if 
 he could, ye know."
 
 232 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "Much obliged 'tis an idea!" said the Irish woman 
 and went to the jail. 
 
 "Is my son Patsy in here?" she demanded of the 
 clerk. 
 
 "He is." 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 "Settin' fire to the factories." 
 ; 'Tisadurtylie!" 
 
 "Keep a civil tongue in your head, or you'll get the 
 cell next to him." 
 
 "When did they git him?" 
 
 "Last night, just after the fire broke out. He'll 
 get State's Prison all right." 
 
 Mrs. Rafferty made no answer. She went out and 
 down the street. At her own gate she saw the car 
 from the Hall. Gregory was inside speaking with 
 the nurse. 
 
 "Good morning, Mrs. Rafferty," he said. 
 
 "My bye is in jail fer burnin* yer factory. He 
 didn't do ut. I want ye to go down there an' git him 
 out." 
 
 "But, Mrs. Rafferty, I'm told they have evidence 
 against him that " 
 
 "I tell ye he didn't do ut. I'm a-doin' what I 
 can fer your boy. What'll you do for mine?,' 1
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 THE challenge which Mrs. Rafferty threw 
 down to Gregory was one he could not avoid, 
 and it was one he disliked taking up. It was 
 true that at the moment he was indebted to her for 
 kindness to Dick and to Joan, but the testimony of the 
 guards who had arrested Patsy provided indisputable 
 circumstantial evidence of his guilt. If this trouble- 
 maker had deliberately set fire to the factory and 
 burned it to ashes, Gregory argued that he must be 
 prosecuted, and punished to the full extent of the law, 
 no matter how hard it was on his mother. This kind 
 of strike lawlessness must be crushed out and all such 
 offenders should be dealt with summarily, to his think- 
 ing. 
 
 He urged his lawyers to use every effort to find 
 more conclusive evidence than that Patsy was caught 
 near the building, but he was determined to have the 
 incendiary made an example. 
 
 The news that Patsy had been refused bail aroused 
 Mrs. Rafferty to fury. 
 
 "He niver done it, I tell ye. It's a frame-up !" she 
 said to Joan, who was heating Dick's broth in the 
 kitchen. 
 
 "The truth will come out at the trial, Mrs. Raf- 
 ferty " Joan tried to comfort her. 
 
 "Why don't ye tell that Farwell frind av yours that 
 he didn't do ut?" hotly. 
 
 The girl made no answer. Mrs. Rafferty went to 
 
 233
 
 234 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 her, laid heavy hands on her shoulders and turned her 
 so she could look in her face. 
 
 "Why don't ye tell him?" she repeated. 
 
 Joan dropped her head on the big woman's breast 
 for a moment, then she said wearily 
 
 "Dear Mrs. Rafferty, I'm afraid Patsy did do it." 
 
 The Irish woman shook her. 
 
 "Ye've gone back on us!" 
 
 "No no how can you say that? It's nearly 
 driven me crazy, the thought that I couldn't go and 
 get him off at once, because I was probably the last per- 
 son to talk to him, that night." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "I go over it and over it, just like poor Dick." 
 
 "Tell me," the older woman commanded. 
 
 "I sat here, after you and Jimmy had gone to bed 
 in the parlour, thinking and waiting for the boys to 
 come home. I heard some one in the shed the pails 
 rattled, as if a man stumbled over them. I thought it 
 "was the boys so I opened the door and called them. 
 Nobody answered. Then I was frightened. I shut 
 the door and watched. I saw some man run, carry- 
 ing a can." 
 
 "A can?" 
 
 "The kerosene can that was missing next day. You 
 remember? I could hardly bear it when you looked 
 for it" 
 
 The old woman's red face was chalky white, but she 
 stood there like a prisoner waiting to be shot. 
 
 "Go on," she said. 
 
 "I came to the door to call you, but you were sleep- 
 ing and I knew how tired you were, so I went back to 
 the kitchen. Presently Patsy came in. I asked about 
 Dick he said he hadn't seen him for an hour or two.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 235 
 
 I was anxious about him, so he offered to go look for 
 him." 
 
 "Did ye spake wid him about what ye seen?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Ye think he'd started the foire before he came into 
 the house?" 
 
 "I I don't know what I think!" 
 
 "If he'd started it before he come in, he wuz a fool 
 to go out again. His alibi was bed." 
 
 "I tell you I don't know the fire was blazing by the 
 time he got back there, I'm sure." 
 
 "He couldn't a-done it the second trip, then " 
 
 "No. But the kerosene can " 
 
 "There's a can loike that in the lean-to av every 
 shanty in the row " hotly.' 
 
 "Oh, dear Mrs. Rafferty, don't speak like that. If 
 he did it, I know he did it because he thought it had 
 to be done that way. You and Patsy are the best 
 friends I have and I'd cut my tongue out before I'd say 
 a word to harm or hurt either of you. Only you see, 
 I just can't go to Mr. Farwell with this doubt in my 
 mind." 
 
 "i here's no doubt in my moind. He didn't do ut 
 that's all there is to ut." 
 
 "Won't they let you see him?" 
 
 "Not till after the trial." 
 
 "Have they set the day for it?" 
 
 "Yis 'tis to be on Friday, the I3th. A foine 
 chanct he's got to get off that day." 
 
 "Justice works on Friday, too," Joan began. 
 
 "Justice don't make me laff!" 
 
 "Have you heard what the Union has decided to do 
 about paying strike benefits? I suppose with the fac- 
 tories burned, the strike is over."
 
 236 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "I hear they'll pay until the I5th. After that we 
 can git out an' foind other jobs or we can sthay on here, 
 in our usual luxury an' stharve." 
 
 The nurse came to the door. 
 
 "Mr. Norton's broth?" 
 
 "Oh forgive me I was talking to Mrs. Rafferty 
 about something of great importance, and I forgot it. 
 May I give it to him?" 
 
 "If you like." 
 
 Joan went into the room where Dick lay. He was 
 still delirious when he was not in a stupor. The days 
 since the fire had brought no relief to the poor over- 
 wrought boy, and the whole district hung over him, 
 with the same anxiety that Joan and Gregory shared. 
 Doctors had come down from New York for consulta- 
 tion, and to Gregory's urgence that the boy could not 
 be left to die in this hovel, they replied that he could 
 not be moved now he must be kept as quiet as possi- 
 ble. They gave the local doctor full directions and 
 arranged to keep in touch with the case. 
 
 It was a week after their visit, with Dick's con- 
 dition still unchanged when Joan broached the subject 
 in her thoughts to Gregory. He came to the shack 
 every morning at ten to get full particulars of the night; 
 he returned at five to hear the report of the day. He 
 never stepped inside Dick's room, but his white, care- 
 lined face bore witness of what was going on in his 
 mind. 
 
 "Well, Joan?" he asked eagerly every morning. 
 
 "No change yet, Gregory," she answered him. "I 
 want to suggest something, please," she added one 
 morning. 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "I think perhaps we would better move the Raffertys
 
 THE THRESHOLD 237 
 
 somewhere else until the crisis is over. They are per- 
 fectly wonderful, but you see, Jimmy's crutch, stump- 
 ing around the house makes a noise, and they're com- 
 ing and going. It is so tiny, and the walls are paper " 
 
 "Yes yes by all means, move them. I should 
 have thought of it before, only every day I hoped we 
 could take him home " 
 
 "Will you go with me to look for other quarters 
 for them?" 
 
 "Oh no you know about this district " 
 
 "I want you to come, please. The Raffertys have 
 been very good to us " 
 
 "All right. Shall we go now?" 
 
 Joan took him first to the tumble-down old shack 
 where she had taken Dick, to visit the old woman, who 
 died during the fire. The daughter, in black, with a 
 tear-stained face, let them in. Joan explained, and led 
 Gregory about. He looked like a man in Purgatory. 
 
 "I suppose we couldn't put those children here," she 
 said. 
 
 "No no," he agreed hastily. 
 
 She led the way through the entire district. She 
 took him into tumble-down, filthy shanties where people 
 swarmed. Everywhere they went, hate looked out of 
 eyes at Gregory. He had not reduced his relation to 
 Farwell to its personal element. To him the district 
 was a blot it did not exist to the district he was the 
 arch-fiend, to be hated, frustrated, harmed, if possible. 
 
 It was all a sickening revelation to him, but this day 
 he was looking at its ugly body, and worse, into its hate- 
 begrimed soul. What he saw there, terrified him, be- 
 cause he was beginning to see what had happened to 
 Dick, how this sordidness had burned into his young 
 mind, until it had set his thoughts aflame.
 
 2 3 8 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 He glanced at Joan, now and then. Cool, aloof, 
 she led the way. A kind inquiry, a tactful remark, an 
 offer of help paved her way with the strikers. They 
 were sullen with Gregory but they were evidently 
 fond of Joan. Everywhere people demanded the last 
 news of Dick. 
 
 When the end of the ugly journey was reached, Joan 
 said in a business-like way, 
 
 "I think the Gradys' is the best place don't you?" 
 
 "But the roof leaks there." 
 
 "All the roofs leak. Your agent doesn't think roofs 
 need repair." 
 
 "The gardener out at the Hall might take them for 
 a while." 
 
 "That would be great for Jimmy country and de- 
 cent food." 
 
 They came to the shanty and Mrs. Rafferty stood at 
 the door. Joan explained to her the idea, and asked 
 her, most tactfully, if the children could go to the Hall 
 for a week. 
 
 "They can not. I'll be beholden to him fer nuthin'," 
 she replied. 
 
 "But I'd be beholden to you, Mrs. Rafferty, for let- 
 ting Dick have the house " 
 
 "I'll do ye no kindnesses," replied the Irish woman 
 bitterly. 
 
 "But Dick, Mrs. Rafferty, surely you'll do him a 
 kindness one more added to your many. If you 
 won't let the children go to the Hall, will you let them 
 go to the Gradys' only for a while? Mrs. Grady will 
 take them in, and there'll be no rent while Dick has 
 the house, so you could pay the Gradys a bit couldn't 
 you? We would like you to stay here and help us, if 
 you would, as assistant nurse, on salary?"
 
 THE THRESHOLD 239 
 
 "I'll think about it," said the old woman, ungra- 
 ciously. 
 
 So Gregory went away, up to the Hall, with this 
 new vision of Inferno which Joan had sent home with 
 him. Would he ever be free of it again? He looked 
 out on the sweep of clean open country, and a vision 
 of stagnant greenish waters, with rusty tin cans, old 
 shoes and *paper boxes floating on it, rose before him. 
 What would an outlook like that do to a human mind? 
 The smell of cold, musty dampness was in his nose, the 
 chill of those rooms made him shiver, even before his 
 own fire. The filth, the left-over, unwashed break- 
 fast dishes, the dirty, sullen women, the thin, half- 
 dressed children Ugh 1 Was this the world Joan 
 had come out of? He thought of her fine, friendly 
 understanding of them, the way she took them as a 
 matter of course. 
 
 It was into this world she had taken Dick, all soft 
 and unprepared for its revelations. Was it any won- 
 der that it had been too terrible for him? That his 
 poor fevered mind went over and over each step in the 
 tragic march of events? How they swept him on and 
 out, and down ! His poor, little-boy Dick, who could 
 not endure the sight of him, even when delirium held 
 sway in his disordered thoughts. That was the deep- 
 est hurt of all. 
 
 The little Raffertys were moved to the Gradys in due 
 time, and became the most envied youngsters in the dis- 
 trict, because the young Gradys were six in number 
 themselves, so the accession of five more was a real 
 lark. Mrs. Rafferty remained in charge of her own 
 cabin, cooking for the invalid and the nurse. Joan 
 practically moved over, herself, taking turns with the 
 nurse in the actual care of the sick boy. He called for
 
 240 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 her constantly, although he did not know her, when 
 she sat with him. 
 
 Time seemed to have stopped for those anxious 
 friends who watched over him. The news of the dis- 
 trict filtered through to them, as if from a world they 
 had left. The militia had departed, the scabs had 
 vanished. Some of the strikers had found work in the 
 village; the rest were beginning to plan to move on, 
 as soon as the strike benefits ceased. Saunders, re- 
 covered from his wound, was told by Mr. Farwell that 
 all plans in regard to the factories, depended on Dick's 
 recovery. Nothing could be done at present. When 
 Saunders circulated this information at Grady's saloon, 
 indignation at the owner grew. 
 
 "What's it to King Farwell that some of us have 
 worked in his factory and lived in his stinkin' holes 
 fer five years?" cried one of the men. 
 
 "If you burn down his property, you can't expect him 
 to give you a pension, out o' gratitude, can you?" in- 
 quired Saunders. 
 
 "How do you know we burned down his factory?" 
 
 "Everybody knows that devil Rafferty done it. 
 They'll prove it on him, at the trial, believe me !" 
 
 "Supposin' he did do it the Union had nothin' to do 
 with it. We ain't told him to burn it " 
 
 "Well, you be'n so crazy to git yer unions in here, 
 an' now you see what happens. I told you to let 'em 
 alone. It don't make any difference -whether the 
 Union ordered him to do it, er not. It was all a part 
 of the strike, an' you fellas will pay the piper." 
 
 "Will we? Well, mebbe we ain't through with 
 King Farwell yet! Mebbe he'll come in on the 
 bill!" 
 
 "I'll remember you warned me, Tim," replied Saun-
 
 THE THRESHOLD 241 
 
 ders, meaningly, "it may be of interest to the judge." 
 
 Saunders went out and the talk ran high. The situ- 
 ation was desperate for the men. No work in sight 
 only a few more days of sure provision for their fami- 
 Ires, and now Farwell announced that he would do 
 nothing. 
 
 "If anything happened to Farwell, young Norton 
 would have charge of the factories," Tim said slowly 
 and with intent. 
 
 There was a brief silence, then some one muttered, 
 
 "Dick may not get well." 
 
 "Just somethin' to remember," remarked Tim 
 quietly. 
 
 As the time drew near for Patsy's trial, excitement 
 in the district grew intense. Mrs. Rafferty engaged a 
 lawyer to defend him, and never for an instant did her 
 belief in his innocence waver. 
 
 The day before the event, Mrs. Rafferty was away 
 nearly all day. She did not talk to Joan about her 
 plans, since her admission of doubt about Patsy. The 
 nurse had gone for her walk, and Joan sat in the silent 
 hous beside Dick. He had been quieter than usual, 
 sleeping heavily all day. The doctor had come in 
 twice to look at him. He refused to commit himself 
 as to the patient's condition. 
 
 After he left, Joan dropped her head in her hands, 
 with an incoherent appeal to God to help Dick. The 
 shrill scream of children running past the house roused 
 her. She went to close the window, that the sound 
 might not arouse the patient. A soiled envelope was 
 lying on the window sill, folded twice. She was on the 
 point of sweeping it out into the yard, when something 
 prompted her to take it up. She unfolded it and read 
 in a pencil scrawl ;
 
 242 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "Dick It's all right. Keep mum about anything ye 
 know. Yours, Patsy." 
 
 She read it twice. How had it come there? Did 
 Dick know about the plan to burn the factory? Could 
 he save Patsy, if only he could speak? 
 
 She went to sit beside him, leaning over him, try- 
 ing to call to his spirit with her own. She concen- 
 trated her full force upon him. He lay perfectly still, 
 with eyes closed, breathing heavily. 
 
 "Dick!" she said urgently. "Dick!" 
 
 Her voice seemed to pierce the thick non-conscious- 
 ness that divided them. Slowly, slowly, his eyes 
 opened, and fixed themselves on her, expressionless as 
 usual. 
 
 "Dick Patsy needs you needs you so terribly," 
 she said earnestly. 
 
 "Patsy?" he said thickly. 
 
 "Can you hear me, Dick? . . Can you understand 
 me?" 
 
 He inclined his head just a shade. 
 
 "Try to come back, Dick come back and help us!" 
 
 "Help you?" 
 
 She felt his mind grappling with ideas, trying to 
 hold them, to get control. Should she risk shocking 
 him with the news of the disaster which the fire had 
 proved to his best friend? It might unhinge his mind 
 forever, or it might strike it into action, and so save 
 him. If only some one were here to advise her or to 
 forbid her" 
 
 "Joan" 
 
 "You know me, Dick?" 
 
 He felt for her hand it touched the crumpled en- 
 velope. 
 
 "That's for you from Patsy."
 
 THE THRESHOLD 243 
 
 He took it, but did not try to read it. 
 
 "You've been ill a long time since the fire " 
 
 A look of terror swept across his face at that, and 
 she stopped, afraid to go on. 
 
 "You're better now you're getting well " 
 
 She saw that he was trying to get hold of facts, of 
 something back there in consciousness. 
 
 "Patsy ?" he said, finally. 
 
 "Patsy is in jail," she answered, risking it all. 
 
 He frowned over that, trying to understand. She 
 leaned toward him and spoke distinctly. 
 
 "They arrested him for setting the factory on fire." 
 
 There was no change in his face at that. She had 
 not got it through to him. He stared up at the ceiling, 
 inert. 
 
 "We must get Patsy off, Dick. It may mean state's 
 prison to him, if they prove it on him. I don't know 
 what to do, because I'm afraid he did it. You're the 
 only one who knows the truth. Dick, you must help 
 us." 
 
 Her re-iterated beating upon the doors of his mind 
 was beginning to have an effect. He looked at her 
 again. She went all over it once more. Little by 
 little she caught his attention. She forced him to 
 think, to answer. Her urgency, her passionate direct- 
 ness had their way with him. He fought her off, tried 
 to slip away into the blessed nothingness that had 
 wrapped him before, but she would not let him go. 
 She laid firm hands upon him she caught at his mind 
 and held it in the end he was awake, he listened. 
 
 She told him again of her fears, Mrs. Rafferty's 
 faith, of Gregory's determination to find and punish 
 the offender. She recalled to him Patsy's reputation as 
 daredevil of the district. She stated Ben Card's
 
 244 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 grudge against him. She told how she herself had sent 
 him out to look for Dick, the night of the fire, and how 
 they had caught him, near the factory, apparently red- 
 handed. 
 
 She saw that he was taking it in, now. She hurried 
 on to the climax. Tomorrow he was to come to trial. 
 He had gotten a message to Dick, somehow 
 
 "Read it," he said. 
 
 She choked back a sob of excitement and relief and 
 read 
 
 "Dear Dick It's all right Keep mum about any- 
 thing ye know. Yours, Patsy." 
 
 He considered it a moment. 
 
 "He means to stand for it!" he exclaimed. 
 
 "Evidently." 
 
 He sat up weakly. 
 
 "Dick, what are you going to do?" 
 
 "I must get to him.!" he said, excitedly. 
 
 "No, no please lie down, and tell me what to 
 do, I'll obey orders exactly." 
 
 He sank back, flushed and distressed. 
 
 "I mustn't fail Patsy," he said, wildly. 
 
 "Dick, we can get the trial put off if you want to be 
 called as a witness." 
 
 "Yes yes that's it," he said, "witness " then he 
 fainted.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 'HEN Gregory came to the shanty that after- 
 noon, Joan came to the door to speak to 
 him. She looked utterly spent, a ghost of 
 herself. 
 
 "What is it? Is he worse?" he asked anxiously. 
 
 "No he's better." 
 
 "But you ?" 
 
 "I took a terrible responsibility upon myself this 
 afternoon, Gregory. I told Dick about Patsy coming 
 to trial tomorrow. I pried into his mind, and made 
 him think " 
 
 "But you should not have done that!" he exclaimed. 
 
 "I had to do it," she began. 
 
 "What happened to him?" he interrupted. 
 
 "He made the effort, got my meaning, and then he 
 fainted." 
 
 "How cruel of you !" 
 
 "I can't argue it with you, now. I'm too tired. I'll 
 tell you all about it some time. The doctor says he 
 is very weak and tired, but there is no harm done. 
 He even admits that good may come of it." 
 
 "Is the nurse on duty now?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Get a coat and come for a drive I have the runa- 
 bout." 
 
 She obeyed mechanically and he tucked the rug about 
 her carefully. A few moments later they were out of 
 the town on an open road. Joan sat, leaning back, 
 
 245
 
 246 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 numb from the events of the afternoon. Gregory did 
 not speak, and they rode for miles in silence. Some- 
 times he glanced at her. How her youth and buoyancy 
 had been crushed out! Why couldn't life have left 
 them alone ? They had been so merry at the Hall be- 
 fore the events of these past months had swept them all 
 into strange new currents! 
 
 "Gregory, there is something that we must do." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "We must get Patsy Rafferty's trial postponed until 
 Dick is able to act as a witness." 
 
 "Dick?" 
 
 "Yes he knows something about the fire that is of 
 importance to the case." 
 
 "Was that what you made him think about?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Couldn't you have waited until the boy was able 
 to tax his mind with the affairs of this rabble? Can't 
 we ever get away from Farwell?" he cried. 
 
 "No, we can't get away, and I had to tell him that 
 Patsy needed him. They love each other, those two, 
 and I knew Dick would never forgive me if I let him lie 
 there, unconscious, while they sent Patsy off for years, 
 maybe." 
 
 "Joan, do you believe Rafferty to be guilty?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "Do you suspect any one else?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "The evidence all points to Rafferty, doesn't it?" 
 
 She covered her face with her hands and made no 
 answer. 
 
 "Joan don't ! I won't speak a word of the hateful 
 thing again. I brought you out to get you away from 
 it, and then I put you through the third degree myself."
 
 THE THRESHOLD 247 
 
 "It's all right, only I'm so tired, I'm not myself. 
 Will you help me get the trial postponed, Gregory?" 
 
 "I'll attend to it put it out of your mind. It will 
 be months, though, before Dick can testify." 
 
 "No he will be able in a week, I think." 
 
 "Ridiculous! Why, he faints when he makes the 
 least effort " 
 
 "It wasn't the least effort it was a terrible effort, 
 Gregory. Get it put off for a week. Dick will be 
 ready." 
 
 "I'll ask the doctor, first." 
 
 "If you like. Shall we go back and attend to it?" 
 
 "All right. Relax now, and don't talk." 
 
 "Thanks," she sighed, closing her eyes. 
 
 When they came into the town he said 
 
 "This is a trifle unusual, you know. Your side 
 ought to ask for this stay of trial, not my side." 
 
 "I thought you could fix it. It's Dick I was think- 
 ing of, even more than Patsy." 
 
 "I'm not thinking of Patsy at all. I think he burned 
 down the factory and that Dick wants to try to get him 
 off. If it is going to affect Dick's health, why, it's got 
 to be put off, that's all. I'll see Rafferty's lawyer and 
 we'll petition the Court." 
 
 "Thanks I'll tell Dick. Better let me know it's 
 all right before you go home." 
 
 She got out of the car at her own house and waved 
 him good-bye. Then she went up to her room and 
 sobbed herself to sleep, from sheer nerves. 
 
 From the moment Dick understood that he had one 
 week in which to get well enough to go to Patsy's aid, 
 he set himself to the task of being better. He was the 
 most docile and obedient patient. He ate what they 
 brought him, took the medicine they offered him. He
 
 248 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 was very quiet. He lay for long periods of time, with- 
 out speaking at all. Sometimes Joan's eyes filled with 
 tears at the mark these long days had made upon him. 
 The old boy Dick was gone, and this serious big-eyed 
 man was a stranger. 
 
 He liked to have her with him, and his eyes fol- 
 lowed her everywhere, when she was in the room. She 
 sat beside him, his hand in hers; but he seemed not to 
 want to talk. He sent Patsy a message in answer 
 
 "Everything all right. Don't worry. I'll be there. 
 Dick." After that he did not speak of him, or of the 
 coming ordeal. He seemed to be concentrated on get- 
 ting better. 
 
 Mrs. Rafferty could make him smile, with her joking, 
 and he asked to see Jimmy, who was about again. But 
 of Gregory he said no word. 
 
 "Joan, do I seem better today?" he asked each morn- 
 ing. 
 
 "Yes, dear, you do," she always answered. 
 
 The week was over at last, and the day of the trial 
 at hand. Dick had walked a few steps about the house 
 the day before, and he assured everybody that he was 
 all right. Joan and Mrs. Rafferty took him in the 
 town hack to the court-house, because neither Dick nor 
 Mrs. Rafferty would accept a seat in the car Gregory 
 offered them. 
 
 The entire district as well as most of the village was 
 on its way to the trial. There had never been such an 
 excitement in the town in the memory of the village 
 Methusaleh. They all called out greetings to Dick, as 
 he passed. He waved back to them. 
 
 "It's queer that a year ago I didn't know a soul in 
 this town except a few store-keepers "
 
 THE THRESHOLD 249 
 
 "And now everybody round the place loves ye," re- 
 marked Mrs. Rafferty. 
 
 Dick patted her hand. 
 
 "Blarney!" said he. 
 
 The court-room was crowded to the door when they 
 arrived. It was difficult for them to get to the seats 
 reserved for the witnesses. Saunders, Mayor Ben 
 Card and some of the militiamen who helped to arrest 
 Patsy were already seated. 
 
 They were the witnesses for the prosecution. Dick 
 seemed to be the only one for the defence. Grady 
 came to rejoin them presently, however. 
 
 "Say this is some show!" the saloon keeper re- 
 marked, as he looked about at his fellow citizens. 
 
 Joan saw Gregory come in quietly at back. He 
 gave a long anxious look at Dick, who did not see him. 
 Then he stood against the wall, as there were no more 
 seats. Joan could tell from the expression of his face 
 that he disliked being there. She saw, too, how the 
 people stared at him. 
 
 The Court appeared. Then Patsy was brought in. 
 He looked pale from his confinement, but he nodded 
 and smiled at his mother and Dick and Joan, in his 
 usual offhand way. He grinned at his friends, and 
 evidently made some joke about the crowd to his 
 guard, for that worthy laughed and nodded. 
 
 The case was called and the first witness for the 
 prosecution called. Saunders took the witness seat. 
 He testified to Patsy's general unreliability. He said 
 he was a trouble maker, that he was always being fired, 
 always up to some deviltry. He had been the ring- 
 leader in getting the employes organized, in spite of the 
 company's well known opposition to unions.
 
 250 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 On cross-examination, he admitted that he was an 
 expert workman, which accounted for the fact that he 
 was always taken on again. 
 
 He was asked if he had any reason for thinking that 
 Patsy would burn down the factory. He said he had 
 every reason to believe it. He told of Patsy's effort 
 to break up the factory machinery the night the strike 
 breakers were brought in. How he and another man 
 were busily demolishing Mr. Farwell's property, when 
 he, Saunders, who had heard the noise from his office, 
 had crept up, upon them. When he tried to capture 
 them, they fell upon him, and a third man had come to 
 the rescue and struck him the blow that had knocked 
 him out. 
 
 He was asked by Patsy's lawyer who the man was 
 who worked with Patsy in destroying the machinery. 
 Saunders could not tell the light was bad, he was not 
 sure. He was only certain that Patsy was the leader. 
 He had not seen the assailant who knocked him out, but 
 he believed him to be a very powerful man. 
 
 Patsy laughed aloud at that, Dick and Joan smiled, 
 and the Judge rapped for order. 
 
 Saunders was dismissed and Ben Card called to his 
 place. Card, being sworn in, proceeded to the destruc- 
 tion of any character which Patsy might be supposed to 
 possess. He recited the story of how Patsy had led 
 the factory workers to the Council meetings and tried 
 to bribe him, the Mayor, with a promise of a solid vote, 
 if he would get a public school established for the 
 factory children in or near the district. Patsy had 
 threatened him with political defeat, if he dared oppose 
 him, and had actually tried to force the election of the 
 opposition candidate, on the basis of his approval of 
 the district school. He believed Patsy to be a dan-
 
 THE THRESHOLD 251 
 
 gerous character, without principle or morals. What 
 sort of a man was it, who could change his politics 
 overnight, on the basis of a school for factory chil- 
 dren? Fortunately, right and justice had triumphed 
 and he had been re-elected. 
 
 The attorney for the defence inquired if the Mayor 
 had made any promises of such a school to the factory 
 men ? He admitted that he had. Had he visited Mr. 
 Rafferty at his house, just before Mr. Rafferty had of- 
 fered the factory men's vote to the opposition candi- 
 date ? The Mayor could not remember any such visit, 
 The attorney asked permission to call a witness. It 
 was granted. Mrs. Rafferty was summoned and 
 sworn in. 
 
 "Did the Mayor make a visit in person to your son, 
 at your house, on a day shortly previous to the elec- 
 tion?" the lawyer asked her. 
 
 "He did, the durty, lyhV rogue!" said she, and the 
 Judge's gavel quelled the outburst of laughter. 
 
 The attorney for the defence went on to bring out 
 that Card had offered Patsy a bribe to come back into 
 the fold and bring "the boys" that failing in that, he 
 had bought up as many votes as he could in the dis- 
 trict. Witnesses were brought forward who testified 
 to selling their votes, and told the price. In spite of 
 promises and bribes, in spite of this notable triumph of 
 virtue, no mention had ever been made since of the 
 public school, guaranteed the factory men, by their 
 trustworthy Mayor. He took up some of the facts in 
 that gentleman's career and before he was reprimanded 
 as being beside the case, he managed to instil the idea 
 that Ben Card's testimony in regard to morals or char- 
 acter was nil. since he did not know the definitions of 
 the words-
 
 252 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 Next two militiamen were called, who had made the 
 arrest. They described how they came upon Patsy 
 stealing along, close beside the factory wall. He 
 seemed to be calling somebody probably his accom- 
 plice. When they saw him, he ran toward a broken 
 window, in the basement, but they caught him. 
 He made no struggle, nor objection, when they got 
 him. 
 
 Cross-examined, they both admitted that he had 
 nothing in his hands, or 1 his possession which could 
 make, kindle, or cause a fire. He had not even 
 matches. A subsequent search of the place where he 
 was caught had not discovered any torch or rag, hastily 
 thrown away. But the place was not searched until 
 the next morning, and the fire had swept over it by 
 that time. 
 
 During the entire recital of these stories, Patsy 
 had sat, leaning forward slightly, in the deepest in- 
 terest. Sometimes he smiled and glanced at Dick, 
 or his mother. He certainly showed no signs of ex- 
 citement. H$ did not act like a man facing a possible 
 prison sentence. 
 
 When the court adjourned at noon, Dick's face was 
 grey with fatigue. But he waved a friendly hand at 
 Patsy as they led him away. 
 
 Joan induced Dick to lie down the minute he finished 
 his lunch. She promised to sit beside him, if he would 
 try to sleep. 
 
 "Dear, do you think you can go through with this?" 
 she asked him, anxious over the black circles which 
 shadowed his eyes. 
 
 "Yes. They are determined to prove it on him, 
 aren't they?" 
 
 "Put it out of your mind and rest."
 
 THE THRESHOLD 253 
 
 She laid her hand on his eyes to close them, and he 
 clasped his two over it. 
 
 "Dear, it's worth being sick, to have you so good 
 to me," he whispered. 
 
 "Foolish one, haven't I always been good to you?" 
 
 "Yes but not so sweet. I love it," he said softly. 
 
 Joan flushed slightly and said in her most matter- 
 of-fact tone, 
 
 "We're all spoiling you, little brother." 
 
 He frowned at that, and they did not speak again 
 until it was time to go back to the court-room. 
 
 The crowd seemed even greater than before. The 
 air was heavy and rather sickening. Joan saw Greg- 
 ory's pale face across the room again. He smiled at 
 her. The case for the defence began. Grady was 
 called first. He kept the audience laughing by his 
 witty answers to the prosecuting attorney. He re- 
 ported Patsy as an honourable, honest, much beloved 
 citizen. He was a good worker, a good son and 
 brother, a loyal friend. He had the interests of the 
 workers at heart. He paid his billsffts promptly as 
 necessary, and only got drunk occasionally. The way 
 he concerned himself about the school for the children 
 was an illustration of his good heart. He had no chil- 
 dren of his own, so far as anybody knew, but he be- 
 lieved the kids had a right to an education, and he was 
 willing to fight Ben Card and the whole damned Coun- 
 cil to get it. 
 
 He was reprimanded for his language by the Judge 
 and he replied 
 
 "Hell yer honour did I swear?" 
 
 He was allowed to proceed and he asked what rea- 
 son Patsy could have for burning the factory down? 
 If he had the interests of the workers at heart, would
 
 254 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 he take away all their jobs? He had already got the 
 hands organized, and they were just in a position to 
 demand better conditions and wages. Why would he 
 burn the factory and take away all wages? 
 
 He was followed by several witnesses who made 
 tribute to Patsy's character and worth. The prosecut- 
 ing attorney grilled them all. 
 
 It got hotter and hotter in the room, and it was get- 
 ting late, when Dick was called upon. Joan looked at 
 him anxiously he was very white, and she saw the 
 nervous way he wet his dry lips as he took his place 
 in the witness box. That he was the star attraction 
 was evident from the way the crowd fell quiet and 
 strained forward to see and hear. Gregory closed his 
 eyes, not to see the boy's face. 
 
 The prosecuting attorney began asking questions 
 about Dick's acquaintance with Patsy. He answered 
 briefly, described the trip they took together. Patsy 
 had proved reliable, efficient, extraordinarily clever at 
 getting at facts about the factories they visited. 
 
 "Why did you choose Rafferty to go with you on this 
 trip?" ' 
 
 "Because I wanted him and thought he was smart." 
 
 "This was a business trip, from your point of view?" 
 
 "Yes. I wanted to study model factories. I didn't 
 know anything about them and he'd been brought up 
 in a factory." 
 
 "Was it to learn more about factories that you took 
 a job in your uncle's?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Who aroused your interest in factories?" 
 
 "A a teacher of mine." 
 
 "Did this teacher suggest your actually working in 
 one?"
 
 THE THRESHOLD 255 
 
 "No that was my idea." 
 
 "Did you uncle offer no objection?" 
 
 "No he laughed at the idea." 
 
 "Did he make any requests of you, in regard to your 
 conduct in the factory?" 
 
 "Yes, he made me promise not to stir up trouble." 
 
 "You knew his objection to unions?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "But you aided Rafferty in getting them estab- 
 lished?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You deliberately broke your promise?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because I saw it was the only way for the workers 
 to get justice." 
 
 There was a ripple of applause, instantly hushed by 
 a blow of the gavel. 
 
 "You thought the workers' rights were more im- 
 portant than the wishes of your guardian?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "The strike was called because Mr. Farwell had you 
 dismissed, wasn't it?" 
 
 "Yes. I warned him it would be called." 
 
 "You mean you threatened him with that fact." 
 
 "If you like." 
 
 "You weren't thinking much of his rights, were you ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "You went to live with the Raffertys?" 
 
 "I did." 
 
 "You associated constantly with the prisoner?" 
 
 "He is my best friend." 
 
 "You helped resist the strike-breakers when they 
 were brought in by the Company?"
 
 256 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "I did." 
 
 "Did you know that your best friend, as you call 
 him, was trying to disable machines so that the strike- 
 breakers could not work?" sneered the attorney. 
 
 "Yes I helped him. It was my idea." 
 
 An exclamation ran around the room at that. 
 
 "You helped destroy your own uncle's property?" 
 
 "My uncle acts as guardian of the property, which 
 was left to me by my grandfather. I shall inherit it 
 in four years. I consider it my property." 
 
 A buzz and hum of talk began, interrupted by a 
 sharp reprimand from the Court. 
 
 "Where were you the night the militia were brought 
 in?" 
 
 "With the strikers." 
 
 "Were you at the station when they came?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 He closed his eyes a second, to shut that memory out. 
 
 "Tell us what happened there." 
 
 A haunted look came to the boy's white face, and 
 he spoke slowly and with difficulty, at first. 
 
 "We were all in the lot, pestering the scabs, when 
 a boy told us that my that Mr. Farwell had ordered 
 the Mayor to call the militia, to protect his property. 
 So we all began to run to the station to meet the train. 
 Everybody was there, the platform was full of men 
 and women strikers, and all the other women of the 
 district and the children. We weren't armed it was 
 an orderly crowd we were just waiting." 
 
 He drew a long breath and the stillness in the room 
 was intense. 
 
 "Just before the train came in, Card rushed up with 
 some special policemen, all armed. He threatened us, 
 if we made any trouble he said he'd shoot. Then the
 
 THE THRESHOLD 257 
 
 train came in and the militia got off. I was pushed 
 up against the wall, and I stood on a bench up above the 
 crowd. 
 
 "The militia formed and started to charge through. 
 In the crowding that followed, somebody pushed one 
 of Card's policemen. He whirled and aimed at Patsy 
 who was standing right near him. Mrs. Rafferty saw 
 it, she was behind him and she hit his arm up. The 
 revolver flew into the crowd, and the militia didn't 
 wait a second. They began to shoot into the crowd. 
 They shot the women and children I saw Jimmy Raf- 
 ferty shot down. 
 
 "They all screamed and pushed and there was blood 
 I saw it all I knew my uncle had ordered that 
 done" 
 
 An exclamation a gasp caught the audience. It 
 seemed to Joan she was going to faint. She dared not 
 look at Gregory nor could she take her eyes from 
 Dick. His face was flushed now, his eyes blazing. 
 His voice was shaking and he fought for control. 
 
 "I didn't know what to do I just knew I had to do 
 something. It couldn't be like that in the world kill- 
 ing people to protect property. It was my property 
 and I hated it these people they were trying to kill 
 were my friends. I felt that my uncle had shot little 
 Jim Rafferty I felt I owed these people something. I 
 had to show them that I didn't believe in this system." 
 He was almost sobbing now, and the women in the 
 court-room were crying. 
 
 "Keep to the point. What did you do, after the 
 shooting?" 
 
 "I ran after the militia, trying to think what to do. 
 Then I looked up and saw the bonfire the scabs had 
 built to keep them warm. Then I knew." He paused
 
 2 5 8 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 and then rushed on. "I went to Mrs. Rafferty's lean-to 
 and got the kerosene can. I took a sheet off the line 
 and tore it up and soaked it. I crawled around the 
 factory yard and planted the rags and lit them, then I 
 ran around and joined the strikers and watched it 
 burn. 
 
 "I was glad it was burning it was my property and 
 I wanted to lose it. I can't let people work for me 
 and live in dirty holes not fit for swine I can't let 
 people work for me in a factory that is a disgrace 
 I can't wait four years to get a chance to change all 
 this nobody would listen to me Uncle Gregory 
 didn't care I had to make a clean sweep of it, and be- 
 gin again! 
 
 "I've listened to you, trying to put the blame on 
 Patsy if it hadn't been for me, you would have framed 
 it up on him and sent him up for the best years of his 
 life wouldn't you? He was willing to let you do it, 
 to keep me out of it. I know now what kind of justice 
 your rotten old courts deal in, and I'm willing to stand 
 for whatever you can do to me but, by God! I 
 want you to know that I don't stand for any of your 
 talk. Rights morals justice! There are no such 
 things in the world! It's a hideous place devils 
 would be ashamed of such a hell! I burned up the 
 factory, and I'm glad!" 
 
 His voice ended in a scream, and then he sank down, 
 his head in his hands and sobbing hysterically.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THERE was a hush of silence in the court-room, 
 after Dick's recital, broken only by the boy's 
 sobbing, and that of his audience. The 
 Judge had permitted his story to be told in his own boy 
 way, because he saw how ill Dick was, and how cross- 
 examination fretted him. He had known the lad all 
 his life, and he could not be blamed, if judicial prece- 
 dent gave way just a trifle, to human concern for his 
 overwrought young friend. He rapped for quiet, and 
 addressed the jury. 
 
 "Gentlemen the case of Farwell vs. Rafferty is 
 dismissed. Having discovered the true offender 
 through the confession you have just heard, we must 
 now proceed to the indictment and prosecution of 
 Richard Norton. The court will adjourn until ten 
 o'clock tomorrow morning." 
 
 Before any one stirred, almost before the Judge had 
 left the room, Gregory walked to the corner where his 
 lawyer stood, and after a few words went out. A sud- 
 den hiss ran around the room. It was the only way 
 the factory workers knew of expressing their hatred 
 of the man. Gregory carried that sound away with 
 him, punctuated by Dick's sobbing efforts to get control 
 of himself. It seemed to Gregory that if he had been 
 the devil Dick had painted him, if he had lived his 
 whole life trying to do people harm, instead of just 
 trying to keep away from them, no greater punishment 
 could have been meted out to him. 
 
 259
 
 26o THE THRESHOLD 
 
 Patsy, Mrs. Rafferty and Joan surrounded Dick and 
 tried to get him quieted. The crowd surged up to offer 
 congratulations to the Irish boy. He was well liked in 
 the town. An officer of the court stepped up to Dick 
 and informed him he was under arrest. 
 
 "Oh, but he's too ill to go to that jail, tonight," 
 Joan said. 
 
 "I'm all right," Dick managed to say. 
 
 The prosecuting attorney joined them, and asked 
 Dick and the officer to come into the Judge's private 
 office. Joan watched them go, trying to keep control 
 of her own nerves. She could not help Dick if she 
 gave way to them. 
 
 "It's all right don't worry," Patsy said to her, 
 "he'll get bail all right." 
 
 The crowd in the room drifted off to form excited 
 groups on the sidewalk and talk over the most thrill- 
 ing event the town had ever staged. 
 
 Presently Dick and the officer came out again. 
 
 "It's all right, Miss. The Judge accepted bail. 
 Take him home and get him to bed." 
 
 "Dick!" Joan exclaimed in relief. 
 
 "All right, honey been pretty hard on you," he re- 
 plied. Apparently he was too worn out to ask who 
 furnished the bail, or to question it. 
 
 Patsy refused to ride in the hack. He walked along 
 beside it, making jocular remarks about the age of the 
 horse and his inevitable end in the glue factory. Dick 
 smiled faintly, holding on to Joan's hand like a tired 
 little boy to his mother. Once in the district all the 
 children in the world seemed to appear, to hail them 
 with shouts and to surround them until the shanty was 
 reached. Dick refused to be put to bed. He was all 
 right, just a little tired.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 261 
 
 "I'm the boss 'round here yet, Dick. Ye'll take 
 orders, as usual from me 1" remarked Mrs. Rafferty, as 
 she laid aside her best bonnet. He smiled at her 
 affectionately. 
 
 "Ye'll lie down until we git the supper on the table, 
 then we'll call ye. It won't be long, and ye can git 
 forty winks mebbe. Forward march !" 
 
 He went protesting but once on the bed he fell into 
 the deep sleep of exhaustion. When Joan went to call 
 him she hesitated to waken him. She summoned the 
 others, and after some counsel they decided to let him 
 sleep. They would keep his supper hot for him, and 
 pretend to eat with him when he woke. They tiptoed 
 back to the kitchen, not to disturb him, finished their 
 meal, washed the dishes and put away the things. Still 
 Dick slept on. They were all very tired from the 
 strain of the day, and Mrs. Rafferty began dropping 
 asleep in her chair. They persuaded her to go off 
 to bed finally. Joan and Patsy would wait for Dick 
 to waken. They talked on until ten o'clock. Then 
 they stole in to look at the sleeper. He seemed not 
 to have moved. He just breathed deeply and natu- 
 rally. 
 
 "Do you suppose you could get his clothes off, and 
 get him into bed without waking him, Patsy?" she 
 whispered. 
 
 "It looks loike it I'll try," he answered. 
 
 She went back to the kitchen, and after a while he 
 joined her. 
 
 "Slapin' loike a baby. He niver opened an oye. 
 Go along to bed, Miss ye look half dead." 
 
 "I'll stay up a half an hour longer, I think. I can 
 sleep on the sofa, if you'll take the nurse's bed in Dick's 
 room, Patsy."
 
 262 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 ''All roight. I'll step over to Grady's fer a minute, 
 if ye don't moind. Then we'll all turn in." 
 
 She nodded and he went off. She looked in on Dick, 
 then she took up a book and tried to get her mind 
 quieted. But it was no use she was always back in 
 the court-room, hearing Dick's bitter arraignment, see- 
 ing Gregory's racked face, hearing the hiss that fol- 
 lowed him. Had she brought all this havoc into their 
 lives for nothing? Were Dick and Gregory estranged 
 through her, the factory burned down, the district out 
 of work, because in her arrogance and youth she had 
 thought she knew the correct formula to make every- 
 thing come out right? What had she given them all 
 in exchange ? Her half-baked theories, her cocky col- 
 lege aphorisms; even the bitter and enlightening ex- 
 perience of Whiting, and her youth there, seemed to 
 rise up and mock her in this, her darkest hour. De- 
 struction heart-ache those were the words that said 
 themselves over and over. Was there any more harm 
 she could be responsible for? 
 
 There in the empty kitchen she pledged herself to 
 give every power she had, every quality of heart and 
 mind, to try to build up, to repair, to heal. If only 
 it was not too late. 
 
 Patsy's step roused her. He came in quickly. She 
 saw he was excited. 
 
 "What is it?" she asked. 
 
 "There's trouble at the saloon." 
 
 "What kind of trouble?" 
 
 "The Union distributed the last benefit today, ye 
 know. The byes are discouraged, nearly desperate. 
 They got to move on find new jobs they've all been 
 drinkin' tonoight." 
 
 "Yes, well?"
 
 THE THRESHOLD 263 
 
 "They're all sore on King Farwell, ye know. He's 
 the fella that's done it to 'em. They wuz at the trial 
 an' heard what Dick said they saw him walk out, not 
 carin' a damn " 
 
 "Oh, but Patsy, he did care! What are they going 
 to do?" she cried breathlessly. 
 
 "I dunno. Grady was talkin' an' gittin' 'em all ex-- 
 cited. His job is gone, too, ye know. I tried to shut 
 him up but they won't listen to me.'* 
 
 "But they must listen they don't understand." 
 
 "They understand all roight," he interrupted, "only 
 they won't get nuthin' by tryin' to fix Farwell, except 
 hangin'." 
 
 "You don't think they'd?" 
 
 "I tell ye they have ben drinkin'. I come to tell ye 
 that I'd go 'long with 'em, if they start fer the Hall, 
 an' try to kape 'em from murder, not fer his sake, but 
 fer their sakes." 
 
 "Oh, Patsy, hurry. Don't let them start let me go 
 over there and explain to them " 
 
 "No good. They don't care what you say, now." 
 
 "Patsy, if they do anything to Gregory " she cried, 
 and stopped short. 
 
 "So that's the way it is with you, is ut?" he chal- 
 lenged her. "Are ye on our soide, or are ye on his?" 
 
 "Can you ask me that?" 
 
 "How can ye know him, an* what he does, an* what 
 he stands fer, an' care what happens to him? .Why, 
 even Dick has turned on him !" 
 
 "No, he hasn't. Dick cares for him too. Why he's 
 been a father to Dick. We both see he's been wrong 
 he sees it himself. Give him a chance, Patsy " 
 
 "He give us a foine chanct when he called the militia, 
 didn't he," he sneered.
 
 264 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "Oh, Patsy, I haven't any reasons or arguments left. 
 I just know Gregory is really a good man, and I ask 
 you to help Dick and me save him, because we love 
 him." 
 
 She laid her two hands on his arm in entreaty. 
 There was a shout out in the street. 
 
 "Patsy run stop them!" 
 
 He rushed out, and Joan went after him, half way 
 down the street. Then she remembered Dick and 
 turned back. He lay still, in deep slumber. Should 
 she wake him? She had called him back from a 
 deeper slumber to help Patsy. Should she let him 
 sleep through the urgent need of his oldest and best 
 friend ? 
 
 As if in answer, he opened his eyes and looked up 
 at her. He smiled and a little natural colour came 
 to his face. 
 
 "I was dreaming about you," he said. He lifted 
 the hand she laid on his head and put it against his 
 lips. 
 
 "Are you hungry?" she asked, marvelling that she 
 could get the mundane words out. 
 
 "You bet. Have you had dinner?" 
 
 "Yes it's late eleven o'clock nearly." 
 
 "No? You said you'd call me. Why who put 
 me to bed?" 
 
 "Patsy. I'll get your supper." 
 
 She went out quickly, and stirred the fire, putting the 
 things on to heat. Presently Dick came out. He was 
 partially dressed, with a long heavy bathrobe on. He 
 came up behind her and put his arms about her, lean- 
 ing his head on hers. 
 
 "It's a shame to make you cook for me at this hour 
 of the night."
 
 THE THRESHOLD 265 
 
 She freed herself and went on about setting a place 
 for him at the table. 
 
 "Haven't you been to bed yet?" he asked. 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 "It's a perfect shame " he burst out. "Is every- 
 body else in bed?" 
 
 "All but Patsy," faintly. 
 
 "Where is he?" 
 
 "He he" 
 
 Her lips quivered so she could not go on. He laid 
 his hand on her shoulder and turned her toward him. 
 
 "Why, Joan" 
 
 "Oh, Dick, there's trouble at the Hall. Patsy has 
 gone to try to keep the men in order. They want to 
 to harm Gregory!" 
 
 "Uncle Greg?" he said incredulously. 
 
 "They think you've turned against him, and I've 
 turned against him, and they hate him so, anyway. 
 Patsy says they've been drinking. Oh, Dick, I can't 
 stay here and think about what they may do to him I" 
 
 "What do you want to do?" 
 
 "I want to go out there I want to make them 
 listen to me I want to tell them that he didn't know 
 anything about them he didn't mean to hurt them 
 or" 
 
 She caught her breath hysterically. 
 
 Dick looked at her closely, a new idea dawning in 
 his mind. 
 
 "Joan, you mean you Uncle Greg ?" 
 
 "I have to go to him." 
 
 "All right we'll go. There isn't anything you can't 
 ask of me, Joan, not even this. Give me that soup. 
 Who can we get to take us out I never could walk 
 it"
 
 266 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "Oh, not you, Dick. You aren't well enough to 
 
 go-" 
 
 "Could you get Jake to hitch up something, while I 
 swallow this hot stuff and finish dressing?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 She put her hat and coat on, as she ran. At the 
 corner of the main street, a motor dashed past her, with 
 Card and four of the men who had acted as special 
 police during the strike. They were headed for the 
 road to the Hall, and going at a great speed. 
 
 "Thank God!" murmured Joan as she turned into 
 Jake's gate and began ringing his bell. 
 
 Twenty minutes later she clattered up to the shanty 
 door, the old man driving. Dick and Mrs. Rafferty, 
 in her wrapper, appeared at the door. The boy 
 jumped in, and they started. 
 
 "Let the horse run, Jake. I'll get you a new one, if 
 we kill it." 
 
 "Don't ye worry this is a good hoss !" bragged the 
 driver. 
 
 It was cold and very dark. The horse's hoofs beat 
 on the road, a sort of rhythm, which Joan interpreted, 
 "Hurry up ! Hurry up ! Hurry up !" They scarcely 
 spoke. Occasionally Dick leaned over to see that the 
 robe was well wrapped about her, and when she lifted 
 her white face to him in thanks, he patted her gently. 
 It was a terrible ride for both of them. There were no 
 signs of the strikers, no sounds of them. 
 
 By the time they reached the entrance drive to the 
 Hall, the horse began to heave ominously. 
 
 "Stop, Jake, and let us out here," Joan said. "We 
 can make it by a short cut. You wait here for us." 
 
 She was over the wheel and into the shrubbery in a 
 second, Dick following as fast as his weak knees would
 
 THE THRESHOLD 267 
 
 let him. They had often scrambled over this hill in 
 the days when they had lived at the Hall. Joan ran 
 as if she had owl's eyes, forgetting Dick, forgetting 
 everything except Gregory's need of them. She could 
 hear yelling and shouts. She plunged on and finally 
 the great house came in sight it was all dark save for 
 one great lantern which hung over the carriage drive, 
 and was always burning during the night. 
 
 A great yell of rage went up, just as she struggled 
 to the terrace. She could see the crowd now. There 
 was a small group on the piazza one of them must be 
 Gregory. She called to him, but she was so breathless 
 that her voice did not carry. The crowd pushed up 
 closer to the veranda a window crashed suddenly the 
 small group straightened into a line, right arms were 
 raised, the light of the lantern flashed on steel. Joan 
 gave a despairing cry, as she reached the drive-way 
 they would not hear her if the police shot, the strikers 
 would kill him! Gregory heard her saw her he 
 stepped in front of Card's men, shouting, 
 
 "Don't don't do that!" 
 
 Joan got to the veranda faced the surly crowd 
 struggled one choking second to get command of her- 
 self. 
 
 "Patsy" she called. 
 
 "Here," he answered. 
 
 "Dick is coming up the hill he can't run. He asks 
 you to tell the men to wait for him. He has something 
 to tell them. You know how sick he is, boys, and this 
 trip may kill him, but he had to come he would come. 
 Couldn't you go to help him ?" 
 
 She was fighting for time. Where was Dick? 
 Gregory jumped off the veranda and started down the 
 hill before any one had grasped his intention.
 
 268 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "Come on, fellows," shouted Card, running after 
 him. Joan went too. 
 
 "Come on, boys, help Dick," she urged. 
 
 The crowd fell in behind her. Half way down the 
 slope they came upon Gregory, carrying Dick in his 
 arms. He never glanced at the mob, which had come 
 to do him harm. His concern was for his nephew. 
 Patsy stepped up to him quickly. 
 
 "Here, leave me help ye with him " he said, laying 
 hold of Dick's feet. They shifted the burden between 
 them, and went on back to the house, with the sobered 
 crowd following. 
 
 "Is he dead ?" asked one of the men of Farwell. He 
 shook his head, without any answer. 
 
 As they reached the veranda he stirred. 
 
 "Let's put him down a minute " Gregory said. 
 
 In a second overcoats and sweaters were laid on the 
 floor and they put him down. He drew a deep breath 
 and opened his eyes. 
 
 "Hello, Uncle Greg," he said faintly, "where's 
 Joan?" 
 
 At that the men lifted a shout of relief. He wasn't 
 dead. He turned to the crowd. 
 
 "Hello, boys, I came to tell you " 
 
 "Stand back there give him air," commanded Greg- 
 ory. They obeyed instinctively, pushing back into a 
 wide circle. Joan knelt beside Dick. 
 
 "Don't talk, Dick, it's all right." 
 
 "I couldn't run I fell down " he explained to her. 
 "Help me sit up I want to speak to them." 
 
 She propped him up against herself as support. 
 
 "Boys, I ask you to go home now. This is my fight. 
 I started it, and I have to finish it. There's going to 
 be a new factory in Farwell I want you all to stay "
 
 THE THRESHOLD 269 
 
 "He'll finish this speech some other time/' Gregory 
 interposed. "Take hold of his feet, Rafferty, and help 
 me get him to bed." 
 
 Rafferty did as he was told, and without another 
 word the little procession filed into the Hall, Dick 
 and his carriers, Joan, the deputies and Card. The 
 latter closed the door carefully and stood guard by 
 it. Upstairs to Dick's old quarters they marched. 
 Patsy and Gregory began to get off Dick's clothes 
 while Joan turned down the bed, and laid out pajamas 
 from his old dresser. She went into his dressing 
 room and waited. She heard an occasional word be- 
 tween them; she heard Dick groan as he sank onto the 
 bed. 
 
 "Stay the night, Patsy?" she heard him say. 
 
 She went downstairs, told Card about old Jake and 
 asked him to send the driver back to town. 
 
 "The crowd is still out there," Card reported, point- 
 ing to the lawn. 
 
 "No harm in it now," she replied. 
 
 "Ye just got here in time, I can tell ye," he re- 
 marked. 
 
 Patsy came downstairs. 
 
 "All right?" she asked him. 
 
 "All roight," he answered. 
 
 "Patsy, how can I thank you?" she said, her hand 
 out to him. 
 
 "Ye can thank yersilf I did nuthin'. There'd a 
 ben hell to pay if ye hadn't shown up." 
 
 "They are still there" 
 
 "I'll take 'em home. Mr. Farwell says for ye to 
 take yer men back to town, Card. He's obliged to ye 
 fer yer koind offices," he grinned. "Who tipped ye 
 off?" he added.
 
 270 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "D'ye think I need a tip fer a yellin' mob headed fer 
 the Hall?" 
 
 Card went to collect his men. 
 
 "Did ye put Card wise?" Patsy demanded. 
 
 "No they passed me in a car, as I was running to 
 get Jake I didn't tell any one." 
 
 "Good I'm glad av that. Well good noight, 
 to yez. Ye're all roight!" he added. 
 
 He went out. "Come on, byes; Dick wants ye to 
 go home," he called to the crowd. 
 
 Card and his party followed. Joan locked the door 
 after them, and slipped upstairs to Dick's room. 
 There was a fire burning on the hearth. Gregory sat 
 by Dick's bed, watching him. The boy was asleep. 
 
 At sound of Joan's step he rose and came to her, 
 both his hands out. She laid her own in them. 
 
 "You've brought him home, Joan," he said, and 
 there were tears in his eyes. 
 
 "No, Gregory, we brought each other." 
 
 "My dear my dear nothing matters except this 
 I've got you both back." 
 
 "Joan!" breathed Dick. 
 
 She dropped down beside his bed, and hid her face 
 in his pillow. Gregory's hand came gently on her 
 shoulder, and she could not move, so great was her 
 content.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 MRS. CRADDOCK carried Dick's breakfast 
 to him, herself. She reported him as all 
 right, but that he did not wish to see any- 
 body except the doctor. Joan did not appear and 
 Gregory paced the house impatiently, waiting for her. 
 He telephoned the doctor about Dick, and settled down 
 to his papers, in a fine state of nerves. 
 
 Ben Card called up to ask if everything was quiet at 
 the Hall, or if Mr. Farwell would like a couple of spe- 
 cial police on the place. 
 
 "No there's no need. How did you know about 
 the trouble here last night?" 
 
 "One of my men watched Grady's saloon all the 
 time. That's headquarters for 'em, ye know. When 
 Grady got 'em filled up with booze an' excited with 
 speeches, they started out to get you. My man got 
 word to me I jumped into a machine with my specials 
 and beat it for the Hall, the long way, so I didn't pass 
 'em on the road." 
 
 "That was quick work, Mr. Card, and I'm greatly 
 obliged to you. Another question why did you call 
 the militia?" 
 
 "Because I thought it was time to put a stop to that 
 mob. It was gettin' bolder every minute. The town 
 wouldn't stand for it." 
 
 "You did not have any appeal for such help from 
 Larsen or any employe of mine?" 
 
 271
 
 272 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "No, sir. But my specials couldn't protect your 
 property any longer against 'em " 
 
 "I wish you had consulted me about that, Card. 
 The strikers think I asked for the troops." 
 
 "It don't make no difference what they think ! They 
 wuz breakin' the laws an' " 
 
 "Thank you. Good morning," said Gregory, briefly, 
 hanging up the receiver. 
 
 Joan was standing on the hearth rug when he went 
 back to the library. He paused at the threshold a 
 second to smile at her. 
 
 "It is good to see you there, Joan Babcock," he said. 
 
 "Thank you, Gregory," she answered, with her heart 
 beating in her throat. 
 
 "When did I begin to call you Joan?" he asked her. 
 
 "I don't remember. It seems as if you had always 
 called me that." 
 
 "Did you sleep?" 
 
 "Yes better than I have for weeks." 
 
 "It will take a long time to get you and Dick well 
 again!" 
 
 "How is he?" 
 
 "Craddock says he slept but he does not want to 
 see us. I suppose I am the one he wants not to see," 
 he added with a sigh. 
 
 "I wonder if I can ever help you to see and under- 
 stand what has happened in Dick's mind? How he 
 has come to blame you so bitterly?" she asked earnestly. 
 
 "I should be so grateful, if you would try, Joan. It 
 has been very terrible for me, up here, alone." 
 
 "Oh, I know how well I know! My thoughts 
 have been up here with you so often, Gregory." 
 
 "My dear, how we have pulled you and tossed you 
 about, since you came to us."
 
 THE THRESHOLD 273 
 
 "I've suffered, too, Gregory, and learned." 
 
 "That goes for all three of us, then. Will you tell 
 me something of what happened?" 
 
 "I think perhaps Dick would rather tell you him- 
 self. You know him and you'll understand most of 
 it but there is one side of him you do not know be- 
 cause he never was aroused before. He hurls himself 
 with absolute passion, into the thing that interests him. 
 It is that way when you are with people who have 
 wrongs," she said. "You see, every day, conditions 
 which could be changed if anybody cared. They 
 fairly smothered Dick, he had no training, no prepa- 
 ration he cared like a child without reason." 
 
 "I understand." 
 
 "You see, when I began to teach him something of 
 modern sociology, I supposed that he would have four 
 years of college training to ripen his judgment before 
 he came to grips with actual conditions." 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 "The trip to the factories was all right. I agreed 
 to that enthusiastically, you remember? But after he 
 took the position in the factory, Gregory, I ceased to 
 stand at the wheel. Events and passions caught him 
 up and they have nearly broken him, poor Dick." 
 
 She stopped to steady her trembling lips. 
 
 "He came to hate me, because the rest of them 
 hated me? I never knew what hate meant until now," 
 he said bitterly. 
 
 "And you care?" she asked him eagerly. 
 
 "Nobody wants to be hated like that!" 
 
 "Nobody need be, Gregory!" 
 
 The doctor was announced and came in for a few 
 moments before he went up to Dick. 
 
 "You need a vacation, young woman," he said to
 
 274 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 Joan, marking the circles around her eyes and her 
 pale cheeks. 
 
 "I'll be all right when the strike is settled." 
 
 "Humph! She's done the work of three women, 
 on little food and no proper sleep," he said to Greg- 
 ory. "Women are awful fools, but I don't know what 
 we'd do without 'em. I'll go have a look at that boy 
 now." 
 
 He had broken the spell for them, and they talked 
 casually until he came down again. 
 
 "Precious young idiot!" remarked the doctor. 
 
 "Is he worse?" Joan asked anxiously. 
 
 "He's nervously worn out, but he'll be all right, if 
 he gets the proper rest. Ought to get away, out of all 
 this excitement." 
 
 "Will he go away?" Gregory inquired. 
 
 "Probably not. He won't have a nurse and he's 
 got some cranky notion that he wants to be let abso- 
 lutely alone for today and tomorrow. Better humour 
 him, I think." 
 
 "Of course," Gregory agreed. 
 
 "Mrs. Craddock has orders about his food and abso- 
 lute quiet may be the best thing for him in the end." 
 
 "No one shall disturb him," Gregory said. 
 
 "I'll come tomorrow. You keep out of the village 
 for a day or two, young woman !" 
 
 "Sorry I can't do that. If Dick has gone into re- 
 tirement, I must go back this afternoon." 
 
 "Can you do anything with her, Mr. Farwell?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "There you are. Well good day to you." 
 
 He bustled out. 
 
 "Why do you suppose Dick has shut himself off up 
 there?" Gregory inquired.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 275 
 
 "It's one way of getting yourself together. I think 
 it's very wise of him." 
 
 "It is because he cannot bear to see me." 
 
 "Give him time, Gregory. He's only a boy, and 
 he's been on the rack." 
 
 He went over to the window and turned unseeing 
 eyes upon the brown and distant hills. Joan waited 
 for him to speak, and a long silence fell between them. 
 
 "Must you go back today?" he asked finally. 
 
 "I think so. Mrs. Rafferry will want to bring the 
 children home, I'm sure, and there will be much I can 
 do to help her. She has been such a true friend to 
 Dick and me that I know I can never repay her." 
 
 "Dick's troubles, Mrs. Rafferty's troubles you look 
 after everybody but me, Joan," he burst out at her. 
 
 She smiled at that. 
 
 "You don't need looking after. You aren't young 
 and foolish, nor old and poor " 
 
 "I'm unhappy and lonely. Isn't that enough?" 
 
 "I'm only just one person, you know. Won't it do, 
 if I get around to your troubles later?" 
 
 "I suppose it will have to." 
 
 "I wonder when I shall get around to my own trou- 
 bles?" she remarked. 
 
 He turned to her, all contrition. 
 
 "We are selfish brutes, all of us, aren't we? Joan, 
 can't I help with your troubles?" 
 
 "Yes I think you'll have to, Gregory, pres- 
 ently." 
 
 "May I say I am at your service entirely?" 
 
 "No matter what I demand?" 
 
 "No matter what you demand." 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 After lunch she went off to the village. When Jer-
 
 276 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 gens stopped the car at the Raffertys' door, Patsy came 
 out to meet her. 
 
 "How's Dick?" he demanded. 
 
 "He's all right, but he won't see anybody for two 
 days," she answered. 
 
 "How did you get him to go up there?" 
 
 "I begged him to he saw that I meant to go." 
 
 "Is he goin' to stay?" 
 
 "I don't know. I haven't seen him." 
 
 Indoors Mrs. Rafferty turned at their entrance. 
 
 "So, ye've gone back, have ye?" she demanded. 
 
 "I went last night because I thought I could help 
 Mr. Farwell. I stayed over night because of Dick. 
 Here I am back," she answered simply. 
 
 "Patsy an' me can't understand where ye arr, in this 
 foight. Furst ye're on wan soide an' then on the 
 other." 
 
 "Because I know both sides, Mrs. Rafferty, because 
 I know that right and wrong are on both sides." 
 
 "That ain't possible," Patsy broke in. 
 
 "Yes, it is, and that's what we working people have 
 got to see before we can get things straightened out." 
 
 "Ye'll not teach it to the employer!" cried Mrs. 
 Rafferty. 
 
 "Yes, you will you've taught it to Dick." 
 
 "Oh well, Dick" Patsy said. 
 
 "Dick is employer class, and he knows now. He's 
 lived down here with us and he understands our side. 
 I've lived up there with Mr. Farwell, and I under- 
 stand his side." 
 
 "What side has he got?" demanded Mrs. Rafferty. 
 
 "I wonder if I could make you understand? You 
 know how Dick was when he came down here first. 
 How everything surprised him and how the factory
 
 THE THRESHOLD 277 
 
 made him sick? Well if I had never gone to the 
 Hall, Dick would probably never have known any- 
 thing about this village. He would have gone off 
 to college; when he became owner here, he would have 
 left it to Saunders, while he lived in New York. Now, 
 that's the way Mr. Farwell has been. No one made 
 him take an interest in factories. Ht dislikes business 
 and people he has money enough to hire men to look 
 after his interests " 
 
 "But, he's got no roight " 
 
 "Mrs. Rafferty, I'm not talking about rights, or 
 duties, I'm only talking about how things are. I know 
 him to be a kind gentleman, who would not deliberately 
 hurt any one. I know he is not the devil you think 
 him. He has been a good friend to me, and I've hurt 
 him and upset his life, by leading Dick down here. 
 Can't you see how dreadful it has been for him, dur- 
 ing the strike?" 
 
 "Aw rats!" said Patsy. 
 
 "Patsy, you expect him to be fair to you, but you'd 
 die rather than be fair to him ! He loves Dick, and 
 every minute of the riots and trouble down here, he 
 worried about Dick's being hurt." 
 
 "He could a-stopped it in a minute. All he had to 
 do was call off the scabs and tell Saunders to take Dick 
 back and recognize the Union." 
 
 "All he had to do was to give up his way entirely 
 and let us have ours," she retorted. "I'm not saying 
 he's a saint. Saunders toid him unions made trouble 
 and he believed it. He's got a right to object to 
 Unions in his own factory, Patsy." 
 
 "Aw, she's on his soide, why do ye argy with her?" 
 said Mrs. Rafferty. 
 
 "That isn't fair !" cried Joan. "I only want to show
 
 278 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 you that we've got to prove to him that unions are all 
 right, that we'll deal squarely with him, if he does with 
 us. We've got to work it out together. You see that, 
 don't you, Patsy?" 
 
 "I see that we'll never git anything out of 'im that 
 we don't take from him!" 
 
 "Do you feel that way about Dick?" 
 
 "No Sure I don't." 
 
 "Are you willing to work with Dick, when he is 
 owner?" 
 
 "Sure, we are!" 
 
 "That's the real point. Mr. Farwell doesn't count 
 really. He loves Dick and I think he'll work with 
 him, too. Dick is the real hub of the wheel." 
 
 "Dick's all roight," said Mrs. Rafferty. 
 
 Joan went to her and put her arms about her. 
 
 "Won't you say that about me, too? You and 
 Patsy are the truest friends I have, and I can't bear to 
 have you doubt me." 
 
 "Yer a noice gurl, but ye can't be on both soides," 
 persisted the Irish woman. 
 
 "Will you trust me for just a few weeks, no matter 
 what I do?" 
 
 "I will not!" 
 
 "Mrs. Rafferty please?" 
 
 "Would you, Patsy?" inquired his mother. 
 
 "Sure." 
 
 "All roight then, but I don't!" 
 
 Joan kissed her and held out her hand to Patsy. 
 
 "Cut out the sentiments !" said he, ignoring it. 
 
 She laughed, and went to work helping Mrs. Raf- 
 ferty, confident of their friendliness. She spent two 
 days in the district, with only a telephone message 
 from Gregory. The third day she went up to the
 
 THE THRESHOLD 279 
 
 Hall. She must find out from Dick what he purposed 
 to do for the men because they were up to the last 
 ounce of credit now. 
 
 It was the third day after his return to the Hall 
 that Dick sent for Mr. Farwell. When Gregory 
 entered the room he thought with a pang, that 
 Dick's youth had gone. This was a man who faced 
 him so gravely, and pointed to the chair beside his 
 bed. 
 
 "I've taken these two days," he began without pre- 
 amble, "to think things out, and now I want to talk to 
 you." 
 
 Gregory nodded. 
 
 "I think I ought to tell you that I would never have 
 set foot in your house again, except for Joan." 
 
 "Dick, why do you hate me like this?" 
 
 "If you had lived through what I have, you would 
 know." 
 
 "I did not send for the militia I did not know it 
 was called, until I came to the fire." 
 
 Dick turned grave eyes upon him. 
 
 "Who called it, then?" 
 
 "Card, so he says. He was frightened about the 
 mob. Nobody from the factory even suggested it 
 he admits that." 
 
 "You didn't do it!" Dick repeated. 
 
 Gregory shook his head. 
 
 "Would you have prevented it, if you could?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because of you and Joan." 
 
 Dick half rose on his elbow. 
 
 "You see it's only what belongs to you that you 
 care about!" he cried. "You don't care if little Jim
 
 z8o THE THRESHOLD 
 
 Rafferty and five men and one woman were shot at, 
 and wounded." 
 
 "I don't care as I would if you or Joan had been 
 hurt. How can I, Dick, I don't know them, or love 
 them." 
 
 "You ought to know them, and whether you love 
 them or not, you ought to have a decent human feeling 
 for them." 
 
 "Shall we wait until you're stronger for this?" 
 
 "No I'm all right." 
 
 "There are mistakes on both sides, Dick. You ac- 
 cused me of calling the militia, of actually shooting that 
 child we're none of us infallible." 
 
 "You sent the scabs, didn't you?" 
 
 "Yes but I have a right to hire such men as I 
 choose for the factory. Even you must admit that?" 
 
 "I don't admit it. Some of our men had worked 
 for you five years. They had a right to be heard, 
 before you put scabs in their places." 
 
 "Saunders runs the factory, Dick." 
 
 "But Saunders got authority from you he wouldn't 
 have dared act without." 
 
 "That's true I agreed to it, on his recommenda- 
 tion." 
 
 "Besides you ordered Saunders to fire me." 
 
 "Just as you in turn, broke your promise to me," 
 
 "What was a promise against the good of a whole 
 community?" 
 
 "You might have come to me with your belief that 
 the men needed unions you might have consulted 
 me. After all, I am the head of that factory, even 
 though I act only as your guardian." 
 
 "Y'ou would have laughed at me and shut down on 
 the men."
 
 THE THRESHOLD 281 
 
 "I got you the job on one condition you broke the 
 condition and I took away the job. It was fair and 
 square, Dick." 
 
 "You've never been fair and square about anything 
 connected with the factory!" 
 
 "Look here, my boy. I'm willing to make allow- 
 ances for your state of nerves and for this experience 
 you've been through, but I'm not going to stand for 
 that sort of wholesale denunciation from you. I've 
 had enough of it," blazed Gregory. "I may not have 
 lived in the shanties with the workmen as you've seen 
 fit to do, nor have I worked for a dollar a day in the 
 shops, but I have engaged an honest, capable man to 
 manage the business, and so far as I knew, he was 
 doing it well." 
 
 "So far as you knew there's the whole thing in a 
 nutshell. It was your duty to know." 
 
 "Was it, now? Suppose I had lived in Europe dur- 
 ing the time of your minority. When you inherited 
 the plant would you have bitterly denounced me to the 
 employes, because the conditions were not to your lik- 
 ing? Would you have asserted that my duty was to 
 have left Europe and whatever I might have been 
 doing there, to have come home and spent my life im- 
 proving this property of which I was merely trustee?" 
 
 "It isn't the same thing. You were right up here 
 on this hill you drove through the village every 
 day" 
 
 "So did you. And you would never have seen it 
 any more than I did, if Joan hadn't pointed it out to 
 you. You aren't the perfect hero, Dick you haven't 
 found out everything for yourself." 
 
 "But Joan pointed it out to you, too, and you 
 wouldn't look."
 
 282 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "After all, it's your job, Dick, not mine. It's of 
 your era, and not mine. What do you wish to do 
 now?" 
 
 "I Ve got to get my trial out of the way first." 
 
 "That can be arranged, no doubt. I sent word to 
 the insurance companies that we would destroy the 
 policies. [You have inflicted a big loss upon yourself, 
 Dick." 
 
 "I don't care about that only I don't want the men 
 to suffer." 
 
 "How do you expect to prevent it? You've taken 
 away their jobs, what do you intend they shall do?" 
 
 "I want to build the factories over again, the new 
 modern kind " 
 
 "What are you going to build it with?" 
 
 "I should have to borrow the money." 
 
 "On what security?" 
 
 "The money that will come to me when I'm of age." 
 
 "It will take that and more to build the kind of 
 place you mean." 
 
 "I don't care. I intend to make my living out of 
 the factory." 
 
 "Are you going to run it yourself?" 
 
 "I haven't decided." 
 
 Gregory tried not to smile. 
 
 "Suppose this worked out the way you want it to, 
 which is not by any means certain, it would take a year 
 more to build the new plant. Do you intend to sup- 
 port the village in idleness for that length of time?" 
 
 "No that's the most important part of the plan. 
 I want to put all these men to work at once, helping 
 to build the new factory, helping to build the new cot- 
 tages. I want them to feel that it's their factory, 
 their cottages. I want them to be a part of it, and
 
 THE THRESHOLD 283 
 
 when I am the owner, I want them to own shares in 
 the business. The one thing I've got straight in my 
 mind is that we've got to work out labour and capital 
 problems together," he ended, absorbed in his idea. 
 
 "But, Dick, these men aren't carpenters, or build- 
 ers. How can they help?" 
 
 "We would have to hire a contractor and some 
 skilled workers, of course, but our men could work 
 under them." 
 
 "The unions wouldn't have it." 
 
 "I thought of that. There's a contractor in the vil- 
 lage who would do it, and we'd hire all the carpenters 
 and masons they aren't organized " 
 
 Gregory smiled but Dick did not even pause. 
 
 "It may be slow but in the end, it will pay. I 
 know it will work but I suppose it sounds crazy to 
 you." 
 
 "It doesn't strike me as being practical, I confess." 
 
 "Do you think I could get the money?" 
 
 "Urn probably." 
 
 "Would you prevent me?" 
 
 "I don't know I should have to think about that." 
 
 "I never wanted to do anything in my life as much 
 as I want to do this! I want to prove to them that 
 we care about them that we need them and their 
 loyalty and their help 1" 
 
 He spoke so earnestly, that Gregory was touched. 
 He laid away his own hurt at Dick's attack upon him, 
 in his innermost heart. 
 
 "What does Joan think of this plan?" 
 
 "I haven't told her yet. Have you talked to her?" 
 he asked eagerly. 
 
 "A little. You said you came to my rescue the other 
 night because she brought you "
 
 284 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "She thought she could save you. She would come. 
 I could not let her come alone." 
 
 Gregory looked at him directly. 
 
 "You love her, Dick?" 
 
 "She is the most wonderful woman in the world!" 
 the boy answered softly, his eyes full of dreams. 
 
 "She has been with you every step of this fight " 
 Gregory said. 
 
 "Yes all but her heart " Dick murmured. 
 
 But Gregory's thoughts were too busy with their 
 new content. Dick and Joan ! 
 
 "She's older than you are, Dick." 
 
 "Does that make any difference when you love? 
 She's younger than you are!" 
 
 "Well, of course but I was thinking " 
 
 "Has she told you about her her love?" Dick 
 urged. 
 
 "No we have not spoken of it." 
 
 "Get her to tell you," he said. 
 
 "Shall I?" in surprise. 
 
 Dick nodded. 
 
 "I've made amends now," he said wearily. 
 
 "I want to think over your plan about the factory, 
 Dick. I'll come back later in the day, and we'll dis- 
 cuss it again." 
 
 He started for the door then came back. 
 
 "I wish we might let the past die, Dick. Can't we 
 begin again? I've given you my affection so long that 
 I cannot seem to stop all at once. Is friendship out 
 of the question ?" 
 
 Dick's big eyes gazed up at him, full of pain. 
 
 "Friendship? When I've given you ?" He 
 shook his head faintly and turned his face to the wall.
 
 WHEN Gregory came downstairs after his 
 talk with his nephew he found Joan wait- 
 ing for him. After their greeting she said, 
 
 "How is our boy?" 
 
 "Joan, he's gone. He isn't a boy any longer." 
 
 "I've thought that, too, sometimes," she nodded. 
 "But Dick's youth will come back, Gregory, when he 
 begins his real work. I never had any youth at all un- 
 til I went to college, and you know how absurdly young 
 I was, when I used to live here, long ago." 
 
 "It does seem long ago, doesn't it?" he answered. 
 
 "It was another decade in our lives." 
 
 "Can't we ever get it again? Can't we go back and 
 live it once more? It was such a happy time!" 
 
 "Poor Gregory! We've pulled your life up by the 
 very roots, Dick and I," Joan said ruefully. 
 
 "That's the thing to do with weeds, no doubt," he 
 smiled. "You haven't forgotten how you used to la- 
 ment my waste!" 
 
 "Did I? I've had my lesson, Gregory. No more 
 rule of thumb for me I'll never preach to you again." 
 
 "Oh, but I like it!" he protested. 
 
 "It's one of the luxuries you will have to do with- 
 out," she answered him. 
 
 "If only life would stand still when it's happy and 
 hurry faster when it's sad!" he exclaimed. 
 
 "I wouldn't change it, Gregory." 
 
 285
 
 286 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 He walked about the room, hands deep in his pock- 
 ets, head bent in a characteristic way of his which was 
 dear to her. She closed her eyes and thought how 
 glad she was to be there, in that quiet, soft-hued room, 
 watching Gregory pace up and down. 
 
 "Dick has some wild scheme for the rebuilding of 
 the factory," he said to her. 
 
 "Has he?" 
 
 "He tells me he has not talked to you about it, yet." 
 
 "No." 
 
 "I'm afraid you'll encourage him in it." 
 
 "You disapprove of it, then?" 
 
 "I don't know yet I haven't thought it over. But 
 it sounds utter nonsense." 
 
 "Do you think I always encourage him in utter non- 
 sense?" 
 
 "By advice of counsel, I refuse to answer." 
 
 "Gregory," she challenged him, "you don't think 
 these eventful weeks that have made a man of Dick 
 and an old woman of me, are just nonsense, do you?" 
 
 "So far, I should have to answer yes. Five years 
 from now, when I can look at Dick's accomplishment, 
 and yours, then I may change that answer," was his 
 grave reply. 
 
 "Gregory, how can you think that?" 
 
 He stopped before her, facing her directly. 
 
 "I see the factory in ashes, men and women of a 
 whole district out of work, Dick almost a nervous 
 wreck, under indictment as an incendiary. I see my 
 former employes aroused to a pitch of hate and anger 
 against me by my nephew, so that they want to kill me. 
 I see the boy I have loved like a son, denounce me as 
 a monster, in a public court " 
 
 "Oh, Gregory don't!" Joan begged.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 287 
 
 "I see you, my friend, worn and pale and almost ill, 
 from your part in scenes of violence and destruction. 
 Is this nonsense, or has it all some purpose?" he de- 
 manded. 
 
 "Oh, Gregory, it has purpose it's got to have," she 
 said with passion. 
 
 He turned away. 
 
 "I hope so it has cost me pretty dear," was his 
 answer. 
 
 "And Dick and me," she added softly. 
 
 "Oh, yes but you have love," he said. 
 
 She lifted a startled glance to him, but he was pacing 
 again, head down. She dismissed the idea he had 
 meant that the village loved Dick and herself, in dis- 
 tinction to its hate of him. 
 
 "Yes, Gregory, but even love isn't enough." 
 
 "Isn't it?" 
 
 "No we must build, where we've torn down, or it 
 is what you call it nonsense." 
 
 "Go get Dick to tell you his plans. He does not 
 know you're here," he said. 
 
 She rose and paused a moment beside him. She 
 laid her hand on his arm. 
 
 "We want to rebuild what we've torn down in your 
 heart, too, Gregory." 
 
 "Thank you, my dear if you let me share your 
 lives, perhaps " 
 
 She went swiftly out the door and at the top of the 
 stairs she stopped to still the beating of her heart. 
 He looked upon her as the destroyer of his life he 
 was trying, but he could not forgive her. It was only 
 for Dick's sake that he tolerated her presence. She 
 braced herself, and stepped to Dick's open door. 
 
 "May I come in?"
 
 288 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 He turned a troubled face toward her, and it flooded 
 with pleasure. 
 
 "Joan, I didn't know you'd come!" he cried. 
 
 "I've been in the village, looking after things a bit." 
 
 She sat beside him, with her hand in his. 
 
 "How are they all? What is the news? It seems 
 as if I'd been away, laid off in this room for years." 
 
 "They are all relying on what you said about a new 
 factory, Dick, but they can't hold out another day 
 without help. The village store-keepers have shut 
 down on credit." 
 
 "I'll have to arrange about that," he said, with an 
 anxious frown. "I had to get my mind clear about 
 the whole thing, first. It's quiet here and I can think. 
 I see it all now, Joan, as clear as crystal." 
 
 "Do you, Dick? Tell me." 
 
 He began to explain the idea, only this time, being 
 sure of her understanding and sympathy, he poured 
 out his very heart to her, his hopes, his fears, his trust 
 in the workers, and his belief that all working together 
 they could make Farwell a big, happy co-operating 
 community. 
 
 As he talked, as he developed the plan for her in- 
 spection, he sat up, his eyes shining, his face flushed. 
 To Joan he seemed the voice of the future the ardent 
 young leader of the new era. Here was the justifica- 
 tion Gregory sought for ! 
 
 Her head went down on the bed, and great big un- 
 controllable sobs shook her body. Her nerves were 
 too tired to bear anything more. Dick could not un- 
 derstand at all, he had relied so on her support! He 
 took her into his arms and held her very gently, touch- 
 ing her hair with his hand, with his lips, as her head 
 lay on his breast, and her sobs shook them both.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 289 
 
 "My dearest my blessed Joan what is it? Can't 
 you tell me?" he asked her over and over, but she did 
 not hear him, she was not conscious of his touch, she 
 was so shaken with the nervous storm of tears. 
 
 Little by little she got control again. Suddenly she 
 felt Dick's arms about her. She lifted her face to 
 make some excuse for herself, when his lips sealed 
 hers, his kisses were on eyes and cheeks. 
 
 "Joan Joan " 
 
 She drew herself resolutely away and got to her 
 feet, forcing an hysteric laugh. 
 
 "My dear I don't often go to pieces like that, and 
 have to be petted back to sanity." 
 
 "Joan I" 
 
 "Wait a minute, a little cold water will help " 
 
 She hurried into his bathroom to bathe her eyes and 
 presently she came back to him. 
 
 -Joan I" 
 
 "It was nerves, Dick, nothing else. The plan made 
 me so happy and so proud of you, that I went to pieces. 
 Let's forget it! I think you've hit upon the crux of 
 the whole thing, Dick, if we could only work out the 
 practical details," she said, in her most business like 
 tone. 
 
 "I want to talk about you " Dick said softly. 
 
 "No I'm all right. Now, what schemes have you 
 thought of for financing it? Mr. Farwell seemed to 
 think the whole thing was very impractical," she began. 
 
 "Yes, he would think so, because he doesn't see the 
 idea. We've got to convince him, or we can't pull it 
 through because, after all, he is my guardian. 
 Couldn't you manage him?" 
 
 "No, of course not. Tell me what you told him." 
 
 He went over it all again. Here and there she
 
 29 o THE THRESHOLD 
 
 made a good suggestion, or criticized a point. They 
 argued and discussed, step by step, with no thought of 
 time. 
 
 Presently Gregory appeared at the door. 
 
 "I heard voices going on and on Is it a debate?" 
 
 "I'm telling her about my scheme and she's telling 
 me what she used to dream about the new place. Tell 
 him," Dick said. 
 
 Joan smiled up at Gregory. 
 
 "Some days when Farwell was just unbearable, I 
 used to escape into a Farwell I made up." 
 
 "Where was it?" he inquired. 
 
 "It was a mile out of the present town," she an- 
 swered. "There is a spot in the valley where I used 
 to ride, about six or eight miles of green, watered by 
 a stream I always saw the big, sunny factory there, 
 with its hundreds of windows, like eyes to look out 
 with, on the hills around. Then, on those hills were 
 the cottages for the workers, pretty modern houses, 
 with porches, and flower and vegetable gardens. 
 There was a school, and maybe a church, in my dream 
 village. It was peopled with busy, contented people." 
 
 Gregory's puzzled look went from one eager face to 
 the other. 
 
 "It wasn't so utterly impractical, Gregory," she as- 
 sured him, "because a half-mile track could run to this 
 place easily from the main railroad, so the shipping 
 would be as direct as it was in the old place." 
 
 He smiled at that. 
 
 "It wasn't the shipping that worried me. It was the 
 people. How long do you think it would take those 
 filthy squatters to make your new village as bad as the 
 old?"
 
 THE THRESHOLD 291 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 "They don't choose to be like they are, Gregory. 
 They don't know any better. They would have to be 
 taught, of course. But wouldn't it be worth while to 
 raise them a whole class in the scale of living?" 
 
 "Would it?" he inquired then at their hurt expres- 
 sion, he added quickly "I suppose it would." 
 
 "I think it's a great idea, Joan," Dick comforted 
 her. 
 
 "There weren't any saloons or picture shows in your 
 dream village," Gregory remarked. 
 
 "There's a club house, with a bar, if they want it!" 
 she flashed at him and laughed. 
 
 He laughed, too. 
 
 "Billiards and pool?" he teased. 
 
 "In time yes." 
 
 "Well, well 1" 
 
 "It's all been done in other places," Dick said im- 
 patiently. "It's only here in the back woods that we 
 cling to the Middle Ages." 
 
 "Don't go too fast for me, Dick. I belong back 
 there, you know. So you think this scheme would work 
 out, you two unconquerable idealists? You think such 
 a factory would make a living for a man of Dick's 
 tastes?" 
 
 "Yes," Joan answered. 
 
 "It will cost a great deal of money," Gregory sug- 
 gested. 
 
 "I'd be willing to lose it, in the experiment," cried 
 Dick. 
 
 "Would you support him in that madness, Joan?" 
 Gregory asked her. 
 
 "Yes, a thousand times, yes. Why, tf that village
 
 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 should come true, and Dick could work out a big co- 
 operative plant, I'd feel that Dick and I were justi- 
 fied." 
 
 Gregory shook his head again. He took a turn 
 across the room and brought up at the foot of the 
 boy's bed. He looked at their eager, flushed faces, 
 and all at once his whimsical smile flashed out at them. 
 
 "The times are out of joint O cursed spite, that 
 ever I was born to set them right," he said ruefully. 
 "The information that I came to impart is this, that 
 I am going to New York tonight. Can I do anything 
 for either of you?" 
 
 "What would you think of my telling the stores to 
 give the men credit, until you make up your mind 
 about the factory, and I can get some information 
 about the building myself?" 
 
 Gregory considered that a moment. 
 
 "Give them credit for a week by that time we 
 ought to know what we're going to do." 
 
 "All right. Much obliged." 
 
 "By the way, I've decided not to prosecute the in- 
 cendiary. I've directed my lawyer to tell the judge 
 that we are going to settle out of court. I think youVe 
 invented a new crime, Dick." 
 
 "Thanks for getting me off. If you two will get 
 out, I'm going to get up," Dick said. 
 
 "Oh, wait till tomorrow, Dick," Joan urged. 
 
 "Nope. Too much to do. I'll be down in ten min- 
 utes. Will one of you call up Patsy, and get him out 
 here?" 
 
 Joan nodded and she and Gregory left him. 
 
 "You want to see him put this through, Joan?" he 
 asked her again. 
 
 "Ohso much!"
 
 THE THRESHOLD 293 
 
 "I'll be back in a day or so. You two stay here, 
 won't you?" 
 
 "I can't promise for Dick." 
 
 "Try to persuade him. You must not let him shut 
 me out of your lives, Joan." 
 
 "He couldn't," she said simply. 
 
 "Love is selfish, sometimes," he replied. "Good- 
 bye for a day or so. Suppose you wish me luck." 
 
 "Gregory, 1 always do." 
 
 "Thanks. I'm glad of that." 
 
 Patsy was summoned by Joan and in due time, ar- 
 rived. He found his two friends at the library table, 
 with every picture and pamphlet and note book col- 
 lected on the famous factory tour, spread out before 
 them. They greeted him enthusiastically. He cast a 
 quick, inquiring look at Dick, before he said, 
 
 "Well, what's on yer moinds?" 
 
 They both began to tell him at once both stopped 
 to laugh. 
 
 "You go first, Dick," Joan said. 
 
 "Well, first, my uncle will give the men credit for a 
 week," Dick began before he started off on his project. 
 Jean watched them. The expression played over 
 Patsy's mobile Irish face, like an electric storm. He 
 interrupted now and then with a terse question. His 
 mind concentrated on every word Dick said. 
 
 "Now, you tell your part, Joan," Dick urged fi- 
 nally. 
 
 So she took up her idea of the new site, and she 
 painted again its possibilities. He nodded, sometimes 
 laughed. Dick hurried to forestall any criticism, as 
 she finished. 
 
 "Isn't that great?" 
 
 "If the railroad spur is practical, it's all roight, but
 
 294 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 them picture card cottages is hard fer me to see, after 
 the old shanties. I was thinkin' av Aaron Kovlatski 
 a-settin' on his stoop, wid the ole woman an' the kids 
 wit' shinin' faces all round 'im. Flower gardens an' 
 vegitibles can yez see that picture, Dick?" 
 
 "It won't all happen in a minute, of course. Joan 
 knows that she's going to teach them how to live in 
 a new way." 
 
 "All roight cut out the sob stuff ! I'm fer the idea, 
 picture card cottages an' all! It's foine!" 
 
 "Now, let's get down to hard pan. We haven't 
 gone over this stuff for a long time, Pat. Let's pick 
 out the things we wanted." 
 
 They all went to work, marking and sorting. Greg- 
 ory looked in on them, from the door, but they did not 
 see him. He went away without interrupting them, 
 carrying with him a vision of their absorption in their 
 task. 
 
 Finally dinner was announced. A veritable strug- 
 gle followed, to induce Patsy to stay. But in the end, 
 they won, and Dick bore him off to his room to wash 
 his hands. The dinner went off fairly well, thanks 
 to their intense interest in what they were discussing. 
 Patsy almost laughed aloud over the man-servants, 
 and some of the events of the meal. But he followed 
 Dick's lead as to forks and such details, and managed 
 to make a very good meal, although he suspiciously in- 
 quired "What's this?" about each dish. 
 
 Later they talked over the details of the plan. Patsy 
 was full of practical suggestions, which opened up new 
 avenues for thought. He knew which of the men had 
 had any experience in other trades, he knew the situa- 
 tion in the town in regard to builders and carpenters. 
 It was a slack season for them, and if the new work
 
 THE THRESHOLD 295 
 
 could be got under way shortly, they could hire them 
 all. 
 
 "Our end av it can be organized all roight it's your 
 ind I'm leery of!" 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "If King Farwell says no to the idea, that settles it." 
 
 "But he hasn't said it!" Dick exclaimed. 
 
 "Believe me he will say it. 'It's too big a risk fer 
 yer money, Dick'; that's what he'll tell ye. An' mebbe 
 he's roight, too," he added. 
 
 "We've got to make him see it, that's all," Dick 
 urged. "You both got to help me." 
 
 "'Tis a lot av help I'd be to ye. 'An' what's yer 
 idea, Misther Rafferty?' sez King Farwell to me." 
 
 "Don't you worry he listens to ideas," Joan ob- 
 jected. "Think how he's listened to mine." 
 
 Midnight came upon them, and they were not half 
 talked out. 
 
 "Take Patsy off to bed, Dick," Joan counselled. 
 "Think of the years of talk and work and pleasure 
 ahead of us three, if this dream comes true." 
 
 Patsy made a feeble protest at spending the night, 
 but Dick bore him off triumphantly. Calling back 
 their goodnights to Joan, they sauntered off arm in arm. 
 
 The next day they all three went to the village. The 
 boys were to attend to the credit for the men and their 
 families; then they called on the contractor and had a 
 long interview. In the meantime, Joan sat in confer- 
 ence with Mrs. Rafferty. The three conspirators had 
 decided that she was the only one to be taken into their 
 councils, until the scheme was far enough along to be 
 outlined to the whole community. 
 
 Joan knew she could rely on the Irish woman's ex- 
 perience and her common sense.
 
 296 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 She proposed her scheme for trying to arouse the 
 women to new standards of living, developing it at 
 great length. The older woman sat and listened. 
 
 ''It listens good, gurl, but ye know about the old dog 
 an' the new trick. If ye're born doin' things one way 
 an' brought up to do 'em that way, it ain't so aisy to 
 learn the new ways, even if they do tell ye they're bet- 
 ter!" 
 
 "I don't expect it to be easy; if the old ones can't 
 learn, the young ones can. If we could get a kind of 
 contest in good housekeeping started, they would find 
 out how much more comfortable it is to live decently." 
 
 "Well, ye can but try. If ye can teach them durty 
 Kovlatskis to live decent, an' some av thim other Po- 
 lacks, I'll believe ye can do annything!" laughed Mrs. 
 Rafferty. 
 
 "Will you help me? I can't do it without you." 
 
 "Go on wfi? yer blarney!" 
 
 "It's the truth. They all look up to you, and if 
 you were back of the idea, it would take." 
 
 "Me the leader av the house cleanin' brigade! 
 Would I have to be takin' a bath ivry day?" 
 
 Joan laughed. 
 
 "I s'pose I'd have to kape wan av the kids in the 
 tub all day, to show thim Kovlatskis that it ain't the 
 coal bin." 
 
 "How would we go about getting the women inter- 
 ested?" 
 
 Mrs. Rafferty considered that for a while. 
 
 "If they got the place settled on in the next two 
 months, ye could start the wimmen to makin' the gar- 
 dens. The Polacks is all good at that, an' the EytaJ- 
 ians. Ye could git the kids in on that, too." 
 
 "That's a good idea ! Then we could start them
 
 THE THRESHOLD 297 
 
 on the houses later. If they see them grow, from the 
 ground up, they can't help but be fond of them, and 
 want to be clean and nice." 
 
 "Well, we'll see," remarked Mrs. Rafferty, her tone 
 indicating doubts. 
 
 "You think about it, and so will I. Then after the 
 plan is announced, we'll call a meeting of the women 
 and all talk it over. We can form clubs for things, 
 sewing clubs, cooking clubs, garden clubs. Then we 
 can get up children's clubs, too." 
 
 "Well, darlin', don't wear yer brains out until ye 
 git King Farwell's answer," warned Mrs. Rafferty. 
 
 "I think we're going to see the new village on the 
 way to completion, one year from today!" said Joan. 
 
 "Wait till ye're an old settler, loike me, Joan! I've 
 seen things go from bad to worse fer tin years in this 
 town. Ye got to show me how King Farwell lets Dick 
 spind anny money in a model village fer us workers." 
 
 "Dear Mrs. Rafferty nothing stands still this 
 thing is going to happen." 
 
 The boys came back full of information gleaned 
 from the contractor. He had told them about a young 
 architect, just now trying to get a start in the town. 
 His name was Betts, and he had taken his training in 
 New York. From the contractor's office they went to 
 see Betts. They told him their scheme and fired his 
 imagination. They were to send him their material 
 collected on the trip, with their own ideas indicated, 
 and he was to have a rough plan drawn up, so that if 
 the scheme went through, there would be something 
 tangible to show to the men. The boys were wildly 
 excited about this latest discovery. 
 
 "We want the town to do it," Dick said. "We 
 want it to be a great big family party."
 
 298 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "Don't count yer chickens until King Farwell is 
 hatched," laughed Mrs. Rafferty. "You kids make 
 me smile." 
 
 Just then Jergens drove up in the big car. 
 
 "Did you tell Jergens to come for us?" asked Joan. 
 
 "I did not," Dick replied. 
 
 Jergens came to the door. 
 
 "Excuse me, Miss Babcock, but Mr. Farwell has 
 come home and he wants to know if you an' Mr. Dick 
 will come out to the Hall? He wants to see you about 
 somethin' partic'lar." 
 
 Dick looked at Joan. 
 
 "We'd better go. It may be something about the 
 money." 
 
 They hurried off with Jergens. Gregory met them 
 at the door. 
 
 "I thought I would better send for you two," he be- 
 gan at once, "and let you know what I found out in 
 New York." 
 
 They grouped themselves around the fire in his den. 
 
 "Is it about the money?" Dick asked anxiously. 
 
 "Yes. I went up to have a talk with my lawyers 
 and with the bank." 
 
 "Can we do it?" Dick demanded. 
 
 "The money can be raised, I think, so far as that is 
 concerned," Gregory began. 
 
 "Thank the Lord!" exclaimed Dick. 
 
 "But nothing can be done, as you know, without my 
 full consent " 
 
 Dick nodded impatiently. 
 
 "I think the idea of using the men to build the fac- 
 tory impractical I think changing the site is a mis- 
 take" 
 
 "But"
 
 THE THRESHOLD 299 
 
 "Let me finish, Dick. If you s : ;;k your entire patri- 
 mony in this scheme, what is to become of you?" 
 
 "Don't you think I can earn a living?" 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "At a carding machine, if necessary," hotly. 
 
 "As I understand it you consider your education 
 completed, so far as college goes?" 
 
 "I might go to college after we got the factory well 
 started," Dick said. 
 
 "I should have to make that a stipulation, if I agreed 
 to your plan for rebuilding, Dick. If I let you risk 
 your inheritance on this venture, you must at least be 
 protected by an education." 
 
 "All right I'd accept that condition." 
 
 "You understand that it may beggar you?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You want him to take this risk, Joan ?" 
 
 "I cannot advise him on this, Gregory." 
 
 "Why not? It's your affair, too." 
 
 "Mine?" 
 
 "I don't need advice I take full responsibility," 
 cried Dick. 
 
 "The matter is in your hands, then." 
 
 "You mean it? You'll agree to my plan?" 
 
 "I authorize you to go ahead." 
 
 Dick seized his hand and wrung it. 
 
 "You'll never be sorry, Uncle Greg," he promised. 
 "Joan Joan we've got our chance !" 
 
 She put her hand in the one he stretched out to her, 
 but her eyes were all for Gregory. 
 
 "Oh, I'm very proud of you!" she said to him softly.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 TIME did not lag for Dick, once he knew that 
 he was to be free to rebuild the factory. A 
 meeting was called of Mr. Farwell's lawyers, 
 Patsy, the architect, Betts, the contractor and Mr. Far- 
 well. They went over the plan in detail. Then they 
 went to the new site Joan had chosen, and considered 
 it from every point of view. Dick was determined to 
 have it on that spot, if it could be managed, even if the 
 initial expense were greater. The contractor agreed 
 with Gregory that it was all sentimental bosh about 
 giving the workers a pleasant outlook, and said so. 
 
 "You march up and down a day or so, at a cot- 
 ton carding machine, with nothing to look at, and you'll 
 learn a thing or two," replied the boy. 
 
 "You'll have 'em gawkin' off at the hills, instead of 
 payin' attention to the job," the contractor objected. 
 
 "Let 'em gawk !" retorted Dick. 
 
 There were infinite details to take up the practical- 
 ity of the railroad spur, and its cost, was only one. 
 Two weeks was consumed in these preliminaries, with 
 Gregory a reluctant victim to Dick's enthusiasm. The 
 boy could neither sleep nor eat, so consumed was he 
 with this plan. He could argue against them all, and 
 win them over often, by his very fervour of conviction. 
 He found a loyal supporter in Betts, who was moved 
 by enthusiasm as well as ambition. Patsy and Joan 
 frequently opposed him Gregory rarely made any 
 sense out of what he called his "mad notions," but 
 Betts stood by. 
 
 300
 
 THE THRESHOLD 301 
 
 When the plans had reached the point where the 
 scheme was assured, Dick proposed to his uncle and 
 Joan his idea of the way to break the news to the 
 workers. 
 
 "I'd like to ask them all up here. Most of them 
 have never seen the Hall, and they've been awfully 
 friendly to me, while I've been sick and all " 
 
 "Good Heavens, Dick! You mean to let them 
 track all over the house?" protested Gregory. 
 
 "It won't hurt the house ! They'd like to see it, and 
 after all, Uncle Greg, they help pay for it." 
 
 "O Lord am I to be fed on this sort of talk till I 
 die?" moaned Gregory. 
 
 "If you feel that way about it we won't discuss it, 
 of course. I'll get them together in the village," said 
 Dick haughtily. 
 
 "Look here I've accommodated myself to your 
 ideas enough, Dick. I'm not going to have that army 
 of dirty labourers and their kids swarming all over 
 the place. Do you think I'm called upon to do that, 
 Joan?" 
 
 "Not at all, if you feel that way about it. Dick 
 and I look upon these people as our friends, so we 
 don't get just your point of view about them." 
 
 "Well, go ahead and have them. I'll go to New 
 York for a couple of days and Craddock can get the 
 house cleaned and fumigated before I come back," he 
 said shortly. 
 
 "Much obliged," said Dick coolly. "Would it be 
 convenient for you to go on Friday?" 
 
 "Dick, I don't think we ought to accept it," Joan 
 protested. 
 
 "Friday suits me perfectly," remarked Gregory 
 with finality.
 
 302 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 Gregory opened a book, while the other two fell to 
 discussing the party. They agreed upon the refresh- 
 ments and where they could be served. Should they 
 have them in the big drawing-room, or the hall? 
 
 "Dick," exclaimed Joan. "I have it! Let's have 
 them in the garage." 
 
 "The garage?" 
 
 "Yes. Take out the cars put chairs in that great 
 huge hall, with refreshment tables in the room they 
 call the repair shop." 
 
 "And not let them come into the house at all?" 
 
 "After all, Dick, they don't care so much about the 
 house. The thing is to be invited out here. And 
 Gregory is right about dirty feet then, too, the chil- 
 dren might break things. I believe the garage is just 
 the thing." 
 
 "Well all right. I don't care," said Dick. 
 
 "Much obliged, Joan," remarked Gregory. 
 
 Dick and Patsy delivered the invitations, dropping 
 a hint that important business was to be discussed on 
 the occasion, and urging every one to come, including 
 the children. Wagons and motor cars would carry 
 out the women and the youngsters, but the men would 
 be expected to walk. The hour was three in the after- 
 noon. Dick made it clear that he was giving the party. 
 When they asked him if King Farwell would be there, 
 he said he did not know, that he had invited him, but 
 had had no answer so far. 
 
 Mrs. Rafferty was commandeered to help get ready 
 the day of the party. She came out early in the morn- 
 ing, bringing Jimmy, in the big motor car. 
 
 "Think av me a comin' to the Hall in wan av thim 
 divil wagons!" she laughed. 
 
 They all began work at once on the garage. It was
 
 THE THRESHOLD 303 
 
 emptied of its cars, clean as a hospital and warm. 
 Joan and Dick had cut great boughs of cedar and 
 spruce to hang on the walls, and they put huge jars of 
 flowers on the tiny improvised stage. The town un- 
 dertaker had supplied the chairs. 
 
 Mrs. Rafferty, Craddock and Annie set up the com- 
 missariat department in the room off the main hall. 
 Everybody was busy, and happy, when Gregory looked 
 in on them. 
 
 "Well, Dick, how's your coming-out party progress- 
 ing?" he inquired. 
 
 "Fine. I hope you're coming?" 
 
 "I think not, thanks. Debuts are always depressing 
 to me." 
 
 He watched Joan working with a spruce bough. 
 
 "Come and help " she called to him. 
 
 "No, I don't like to help," he answered. 
 
 "I thought you were going to New York," she 
 smiled. 
 
 "I may. There is still time." 
 
 Later they had a picnic lunch, not to embarrass the 
 Rafferrys. It was a happy meal, with much banter. 
 Joan was sorry that Gregory missed it. He was lunch- 
 ing all alone in the big Hall dining-room. 
 
 She hurried off for a little rest, and a chance to dress 
 after the picnic. About two o'clock the first guests 
 began to arrive. The men were starting early evi- 
 dently. Dick and the Raffertys were there to receive 
 them, so Joan took her own time. A little after three 
 she went downstairs. Gregory stood in the hall win- 
 dow, watching the procession of arrivals. 
 
 "Aren't you coming, Gregory?" 
 
 "Must I?" he asked her. 
 
 "Only if you want to."
 
 304 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "Farwell is certainly coming up the hill, just as you 
 said it would," he commented. 
 
 "Are you sorry?" 
 
 "I suppose so. I don't want them here. They 
 don't belong here." 
 
 She sighed. 
 
 "Come out and hear Dick's speech, Gregory," she 
 urged him. 
 
 "Do you want me to come?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then I will." 
 
 She smiled and went out to the garage. The work- 
 ers were all there. Men in their Sunday clothes, 
 women in their best, the children painfully clean. 
 They were all self-conscious and miserable. Joan 
 hurled herself upon the task of making them comfort- 
 able. All the men were in one corner, the women in 
 the other. Stupid looking, stolid folk, they were. 
 This was the stuff for Dick's experiment. How dread- 
 ful it would be if they failed him! What if this 
 scheme, with its cargo of high hopes, should go on the 
 rocks? Suppose the workers were not ready? She 
 caught herself up short. Was she, Joan Babcock, con- 
 cerned with Dick's happiness, or with new opportuni- 
 ties for her people? 
 
 She started the children at games, and got Mrs. 
 Rafferty to help her with the women. They thawed 
 a little under their combined efforts. Presently Mr. 
 Betts and the contractor arrived. He carried a huge 
 roll of papers and the contractor bore a leather bag. 
 After they were greeted and passed around among 
 the men, Dick and Patsy marshaled them into the 
 chairs. 
 
 They were all excited, you could see by their expres-
 
 THE THRESHOLD 305 
 
 sions. You knew the mothers were nervous because 
 they cuffed the children for the least thing. Dick 
 stood up on the platform and faced them all. The 
 room was Tery full. The house servants were at the 
 doors, and Joan thought she saw Gregory come in a 
 rear door. But she forgot everything when Dick be- 
 gan to speak. 
 
 "People I've asked you all to come up here to 
 talk over a plan I've got to rebuild the factory. I 
 know you are all my friends, because you were good to 
 me, when I was sick at the Raffertys'. I hope you 
 know that I'm your friend " 
 
 "Sure! We do!" they answered him, in a shout. 
 
 "I don't want to make a speech because I can't 
 and besides there's so much business for us to talk 
 over that there isn't time. But I want to say this. I 
 never would have known anything about the factory, 
 or about you workers, or how you lived or anything, 
 if it hadn't been for Miss Joan Babcock. She taught 
 me something about industrial problems that set me 
 to thinking." 
 
 "Hurrah for Miss Babcock!" shouted Patsy, and 
 they all joined him. 
 
 "Then she introduced me to the Raffertys, and that 
 settled it." 
 
 "Three cheers for the Raffertys!" yelled the men, 
 whereupon Patsy dragged his mother to her feet and 
 they bowed, to the tune of much laughter. 
 
 "They are the finest people in the world, the best 
 friends a fellow could have," Dick went on. "They 
 taught me more about the workers' needs. Then you 
 know how I took a job in the factory " 
 
 "Sure we know " 
 
 "I want to say right here, that my uncle did not ap-
 
 306 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 prove of that, but he let me do it, on the promise that 
 I would not stir up trouble " 
 
 A laugh greeted this. 
 
 "I don't wonder you laugh. But since I broke my 
 word to him, he felt that he had a right to take away 
 the job." 
 
 "Aw" 
 
 "No don't interrupt. You all know what hap- 
 pened later. I lost my head, when the militia shot at 
 us, and burned down the factory. I didn't have a very 
 clear idea of what I was doing, but I'm afraid I wanted 
 to get even with my uncle for calling out the troops " 
 
 "And right you were, too." 
 
 "But he didn't call out the troops." 
 
 "Who did, then?" shouted Grady. 
 
 "Ben Card. He had sent word to the Governor the 
 day before, that there was trouble here, and he tele- 
 graphed him finally, without ever asking my uncle 
 about it." 
 
 A buzz and hum of comment followed that. 
 
 "So you see, I was all wrong in what I said that day 
 at the trial, and I want to square it. If you fellows 
 had done anything to my uncle that night, because of 
 what I said, it would have been awful !" he added se- 
 riously. 
 
 "Well we didn't," said somebody. 
 
 "No, you didn't. Ever since that night I've been 
 trying to think how I could fix up some of the trouble 
 I started, and I've got a way now, and that's why 
 you're all here. 
 
 "We're going to put up the new plant half a mile 
 out of town, in a place picked out by Miss Babcock. 
 She wants you to have sun and fresh air and green 
 country "
 
 THE THRESHOLD 307 
 
 He paused for some applause for Joan, but his au- 
 dience was too absorbed now for any manners. 
 
 "We're going to build the most up-to-date factory 
 in this country, on that spot, and the new cottages will 
 be on the hills around it " 
 
 A great shout went up at that. Mr. Betts jumped 
 up on the platform beside Dick, tearing the paper off 
 a packet. He held up a watercolour of the factory, 
 with the hills beyond. Dick was completely taken by 
 surprise. He had no idea that Betts would work day 
 and night to have this ready. 
 
 "Oh!" he said, and again, with a choke in his throat 
 "Oh !" 
 
 He held it and gazed at it then his eyes flew to 
 Joan it was her dream, too. She smiled back at him. 
 He held the picture up so they all could see it, and 
 they sprang up and crowded forward to get a better 
 look. 
 
 "This is the type of cottage," called Betts, holding 
 up another watercolour. It showed a simple type of 
 house, English cottage architecture, set in its own gar- 
 den. They exclaimed and clapped their hands at that. 
 
 "They'll be called the Babcock Cottages," cried 
 Dick, and they went off again in applause, and cheers. 
 
 "Sit down now and Mr. Betts will show you a big 
 chart of the whole thing." 
 
 Betts hung up his map and explained it carefully. 
 You could have heard a whisper, they were so silent. 
 
 "Do you get the idea ?" Betts asked. 
 
 "Sure!" they answered. 
 
 "How long will it take to build?" asked one man. 
 
 "A year or more," replied Betts. 
 
 "Hell how can we live?" exclaimed another, so 
 absorbed that he did not know he swore.
 
 3 o8 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "That's the next step," said Dick. "You're going 
 to build it." 
 
 They stared at him and waited. 
 
 "I want you to build a factory with me, and run it 
 with me. I can't afford to keep you all here, idle until 
 the shops and cottages are finished, so I'm going to 
 hire you to build it. 
 
 "Hold on, Dick, we ain't no buildin' trades." 
 
 "I know, but Jim Doherty here has been a con- 
 tractor a good many years, and he's got a plan to use 
 every one of you boys. First we are going to haul 
 native stone for the foundations. We've got all the 
 labour in the town hired, and we want to begin at 
 once " 
 
 "Is King Farwell payin' the bills?" 
 
 "No I am. He is letting me use every cent I 
 would inherit at twenty-one, to try out this experiment. 
 You fellows and you women have got to help me make 
 it go." 
 
 They shouted some more at that. Patsy stepped 
 up beside Dick. 
 
 "I ain't chosen no spokesman fer this occasion, so 
 far as I know, but I jest appoint myself a committee 
 av one to tell Dick that if this here plan av his fails 
 it ain't goin' to be because the men an' wimmen av the 
 Farwell factory didn't do their part." 
 
 They agreed with him vociferously. 
 
 "Dick is offerin' us the chanct av our lives, an' we're 
 goin' to make good fer him jest to show him an' Mr. 
 Farwell what we can do. He's the best little feller 
 ever, an' we know it." 
 
 The applause was deafening. 
 
 "Much obliged. Now I think Miss Babcock ought 
 to say a word to the women workers." 

 
 THE THRESHOLD 309 
 
 They clapped and called for Joan, who came to the 
 platform smiling, to receive an ovation. 
 
 "Comrades this is a great occasion to me. I think 
 when employers and employes get to be friends, with 
 a common interest, as you and I and Dick are friends, 
 there will be an end to most of our industrial problems. 
 I just want to say to the women that while the men 
 are busy putting up the buildings, there will be much 
 for us to do. We thought that while the men haul 
 stones, we would begin the gardens. If we get them 
 planted this spring, they ought to be in good condition 
 next spring, when we've all moved into the new houses." 
 
 This suggestion was enthusiastically greeted by the 
 women. 
 
 "Mrs. Rafferty has more ideas than I have about 
 our part of the work. Maybe she will tell us some of 
 them." 
 
 Loud shouts arose from all sides for Mrs. Rafterty, 
 and she stepped forth, shaking her fist at Joan. 
 
 "Neighbours," she began, "I'm an awful talker, but 
 no spache maker. I think it was a graat day fer us 
 in Farwell when Dick and Joan came down there an' 
 got acquainted with us. We been thro' a lot of trou- 
 ble togither since thin, an' we're moighty glad to be 
 lookin' ahead to good days. 
 
 "It'll be an awful change from thim shanties to the 
 new cottages, an' I hope none av us'll die from ut. 
 An' if they won't make 'em too iligint, we'll try to live 
 up to 'em ain't that the truth?" 
 
 They laughed and applauded her. As she sat down, 
 Dick caught sight of Mr. Farwell. 
 
 "Hi, there, Uncle Greg," he called "we'd like to 
 hear from you !" 
 
 Gregory frowned, as they all turned startled faces
 
 310 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 toward him. Then he shrugged his shoulders and 
 stepped up before them. 
 
 "My nephew has a passion for playing impresario, 
 it seems. I haven't anything to say. I think this 
 whole idea is ridiculous, but if he wants to risk every 
 cent he has in the world on you, why I'm not going to 
 stop him. But if he loses everything it will be up to 
 you to take care of him, because I don't propose to. 
 
 "I hope you'll have a good time building your fac- 
 tory and I hope you'll hurry up with it, because I shall 
 have to hear about it every day of my life until it's 
 finished." 
 
 He smiled at their puzzled faces and perfunctory 
 applause. He stopped to say a word to Mrs. Rafferty 
 as he went out. 
 
 After that Doherty made a speech Betts explained 
 the plans again, in answer to questions. They all 
 crowded up to handle the sketches, and discuss this 
 astounding news. There was a perfect babel of 
 tongues, a roar of talk. Ideas come to them slowly 
 and they had to be told over and over again the sim- 
 ple outline of the project. 
 
 The women hovered over the picture of the dwell- 
 ing house in awed admiration. Joan tried to explain 
 the ground floor plan to them, but that was entirely 
 beyond them. Besides they were satisfied to look at 
 the porch and the tiny gardens. 
 
 About five o'clock the refreshments were brought 
 and they all grew embarrassed again, but after the 
 servants had gone, they fell to talking, and consuming 
 the sandwiches, coffee and ice cream. 
 
 It was not until six o'clock that they moved to de- 
 part. The wagons and motors were filled first with 
 a cheering, happy throng, waving hands and throwing
 
 THE THRESHOLD 311 
 
 kisses. Then the men gave three times three cheers 
 for everybody, and marched off down the road singing. 
 The garage was empty except for Dick and Joan, who 
 stood watching them go. 
 
 "That's the beginning of the new era, Dick. There 
 goes our happy family." 
 
 He laid his arm across her shoulders. 
 
 "I've never been so happy in my life," he said sim- 
 ply. "I'm so glad I owe it all to you, Joan." 
 
 "Dear boy, you owe it to your own fine self," she 
 corrected him. 
 
 "Aren't you ever going to let me tell you how I love 
 you, Joan?" he asked her. 
 
 A look of distress crossed her face and he saw it. 
 
 "Is it so hopeless for me that you don't want me to 
 say it, dear?" 
 
 She faced him squarely at that. 
 
 "Dick, my dear, dear Dick, there must not anything 
 come between us to spoil our feeling for each other." 
 
 "Joan I ask you to marry me." 
 
 "Dick, you are seventeen and I am twenty-three." 
 
 "I don't care what your age is you are just my 
 whole life." 
 
 "You must be as free as air to build Farwell, to go 
 through college, to lay all your foundation stones." 
 
 "Couldn't you wait for me, Joan?" 
 
 "Dick, when you're through college, I'll be nearly 
 thirty almost an old woman." 
 
 "What's the difference? I don't care, I tell you." 
 
 "You're a dear!" 
 
 "You don't love me, do you?" 
 
 "Not the way you want me to, Dick." 
 
 "I knew it it's Uncle Gregory you love. I saw it 
 that night you made me come back," he cried.
 
 312 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "Dick, that isn't fair!" 
 
 He flung out the door and away. She laid her 
 crossed arms on the back of a tall chair, and dropped 
 her face on them. She had tried so hard to keep this 
 crisis in check. Dear loving boy, how was she to help 
 him now? Was her work here finished? Should she 
 pack up and move on? 
 
 She scarcely started when Gregory laid his hand 
 upon her shoulder. 
 
 "Joan Joan, dear," he said gently. She lifted her 
 wet eyes to his face. 
 
 "I came out to see if the party was over I entered 
 through the little room I think you did not hear 
 me" 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "I couldn't help it I heard what Dick said. Oh, 
 Joan, is it true?" 
 
 He had heard! He was sorry for her. He 
 thought she expected him to She forced herself to 
 smile. 
 
 "Poor Dick, he was excited not himself," she 
 evaded. 
 
 "Joan, was it true?" he repeated. 
 
 She forced herself to look him steadily in the eyes. 
 She would not see the tenderness expressed there it 
 must be his pity. 
 
 "Is it true?" he said again, softly. 
 
 "No, Gregory, no it was not true," she said firmly, 
 finally. Then she, too, ran out the door, and away, 
 as Dick had done.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 JOAN fled to her own room, after her decisive talk 
 with Gregory, in the garage. She was trembling 
 all over with excitement. She locked her door, on 
 some absurd impulse, as if the physical act helped her 
 to bar him out of her thoughts. 
 
 She went and sat down by the window, where she 
 had sat that first spring morning of her life at the 
 Hall, nearly a year ago. On that occasion she had 
 taken stock of her ideas, faced the compromise she 
 must make between her ambitions and her contem- 
 plated mode of life, in this house. She remembered 
 what a sunny morning it had been, how gay and lovely 
 the garden was how young and undaunted she felt. 
 Today the bare garden held no promise, she had spent 
 many months of storm and stress here, and she felt old 
 and a little tired. 
 
 That she had fired Dick to do his work, she knew to 
 be the truth. She had confidence that he would do it 
 well, that he could do it without her. The breach 
 which she felt guilty for, between the two men, seemed 
 about to be closed. There was no more real need for 
 her here. 
 
 Her cheeks burned at the memory of Gregory's chal- 
 lenge. He had been generous, taken her back into the 
 circle because of Dick. He knew that Dick would 
 never come back without her. And then that he should 
 overhear those words, that he should misunderstand. 
 
 313
 
 3 i4 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 Did he think that she had tricked Dick, by a pretended 
 love, to get him back? Did he feel that she must be 
 rewarded, in such a case? Oh, it was unbearable, the 
 whole situation! She must go away, and find a new 
 job. That was the only solution. 
 
 A striking clock warned her that it was near the 
 dinner hour. She came out of her revery, to cross 
 to the 'phone and say she would not come down to din- 
 ner. Then she changed her mind. She telephoned 
 Jake in the village to be at the Hall gate at nine-thirty 
 to drive her to the 10:40 train. 
 
 She began to dress hurriedly. She put on the dinner 
 gown which she had acquired for the New York party 
 because both her men admired it. She took more 
 than the usual pains with her appearance. If this was 
 to be her last dinner with them, she would look her 
 best. She wound about her neck and shoulders, a won- 
 derful green scarf which Dick had given her, and hur- 
 ried downstairs, her cheeks flushed, her eyes shining 
 with excitement. 
 
 The men were in Gregory's den, and dinner was an- 
 nounced, simultaneously with Joan's appearance. 
 
 "Joan you're wonderful !" exclaimed Dick softly. 
 
 "Thank you, Dick," she answered tenderly. 
 
 Gregory's eyes appraised her with a pang. How 
 could he hope that this glowing young creature could 
 find happiness with him? Dick, young as he was, 
 would come nearer satisfying her. 
 
 "Are we dining, or are we not?" she demanded 
 gaily. 
 
 Gregory bowed gravely and offered an arm. She 
 took it, and laid the other hand on Dick's sleeve. 
 
 "I always feel like a great lady, when I am formally 
 led to dinner," she continued. "It is a hang-over
 
 THE THRESHOLD 315 
 
 from my factory days when I read how 'Lord Ronald 
 offered his arm to Lady Clare, who leaned upon it, and 
 thus they entered the vast baronial dining-hall of the 
 Castle.' " 
 
 She chattered along until they were seated at the 
 table. Then she described some amusing incidents of 
 the afternoon, which made them laugh. She formally 
 congratulated Dick upon the success of his party. She 
 appealed to Gregory for his opinion. 
 
 "It seemed to me a most successful 'at home.' I 
 felt my own remarks to be the only blot upon the occa- 
 sion." 
 
 "Oh, I thought that was a good speech. It was 
 frank and like you," Joan said. "Wasn't it, Dick?" 
 
 "It was all right," Dick granted. 
 
 "Much obliged, by the way, for setting me straight 
 with them on the militia business," his uncle remarked. 
 
 Dick nodded acknowledgment without any reply. 
 Whereupon Joan captured the conversation again, and 
 made them respond to her leads. She laughed, she 
 teased them, she scolded them, and in due time she led 
 them to the library for their coffee and cigarettes. 
 They were both of them a trifle dazed by her perform- 
 ance. She was usually comfortable, but tonight she 
 was different. She was brilliant, tantalizing. Dick 
 gave her back as good as she gave, but he was miser- 
 able, under it all. Gregory could not understand at 
 all. She had never used her wiles upon them, but it 
 almost seemed tonight as if she were deliberately co- 
 quetting with them. She had been offered the boy's 
 love and his she had refused both then why these 
 provocative fireworks? 
 
 At nine o'clock Joan suddenly rose. She said she 
 was tired and would go tc her room. They protested,
 
 316 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 but she did not listen. She gave them each her hand 
 as she said good night, and she blew them a kiss, as 
 they stood at the foot of the stairs, watching her go. 
 
 If they might have seen how old and worn and sad 
 she looked as she took off the white gown and got into 
 her street clothes, they might have understood some- 
 thing of the strain that evening had put on her. 
 
 When she was ready to go, she made a tour of in- 
 spection of her room, as she had done that first day. 
 Then she took up her little bag, tip-toed to the stairs 
 and listened. She could hear their voices below. She 
 crept downstairs quickly, let herself out the door and 
 hurried to the gate where Jake was waiting. 
 
 "Ain't none of them motor cars a-runnin'?" he 
 asked, as she stepped into the buggy. "What do you 
 go rootin' me out of my bed this time o' night fer?" 
 
 "Why, Jake, it isn't late," she protested, and en- 
 gaged him in conversation until they got to the train. 
 
 In New York she went to the little out-of-the-way 
 hotel, where she had stayed on her first arrival in the 
 city. The clerk greeted her like an old friend. When 
 she got to her room she made herself comfortable and 
 wrote a note to Gregory: 
 
 I was seized with a desire to come to New York, so I ran 
 away. Don't be anxious about me, I am to be with a friend. 
 I am very tired after the excitements of the village, and I 
 want to think about myself for a little while. 
 
 Thank you for everything. JOAN BABCOCK. 
 
 She wrote it several times before she let it go. Then 
 she sent a line to Dick : 
 
 DICK DEAR : I've come off for a little vacation. I'm tired. 
 Go ahead with Farwell Mrs. Rafferty will take my place for
 
 THE THRESHOLD 317 
 
 awhile. I never had a brother, Dick I never could have had 
 a brother, as dear to me as you are ! 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 JOAN. 
 
 To Mrs. Rafferty she wrote that she was to be away 
 for awhile and made several suggestions as to the or- 
 ganizing of the women for their work in the new Far- 
 well. She sent loving remembrances to them all. 
 
 When they were sealed and posted, she drew a deep 
 breath of relief. She threw up her window and leaned 
 out over the great city of lights. The early morning 
 air was raw, but she breathed it in, felt it on her head 
 and neck with pleasure. Then she went to bed and 
 slept like a boy in baseball season. 
 
 The next morning at eleven she was admitted to the 
 private office of the manager of the Professional Wom- 
 en's Bureau. 
 
 "Joan Babcock!" exclaimed Miss Earl, rising ta 
 hold out her hand. "How glad I am to see you 1" 
 
 Joan gripped her hand so that the other woman 
 winced. 
 
 "It's good to see you, Miss Earl," she said heartily. 
 
 "What brings you to town?" 
 
 "I want a job." 
 
 "A job? You are through at Farwell?" 
 
 "Yes I think I am through at Farwell," she ad- 
 mitted. 
 
 Miss Earl appraised the serious face opposite her. 
 The girl looked older, a trifle worn. 
 
 "It was a painful experience I gathered from the last 
 letters " 
 
 "It had both pain and pleasure," Joan answered. 
 
 "I was afraid that it was too quiet and conventional
 
 3 i8 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 a background for you but you seemed to make it 
 rather otherwise," Miss Earl smiled. 
 
 "It isn't a year yet, Miss Earl, since I went to the 
 Hall and yet I feel that my whole life has been packed 
 into these months, so much has happened within and 
 without," Joan exclaimed. 
 
 "I'm not quite up to date on it, you know," Miss 
 Earl reminded her. 
 
 Joan went over the last chapters of the story of the 
 strike, Dick's part in the final act of destruction. She 
 described the trial, the boy's outbreak against the whole 
 economic system, with Gregory as its protagonist. She 
 told how the strikers plotted to kill Gregory, or burn 
 the Hall, or do some sort of damage, the night after 
 the trial, how she and Dick had gone to the rescue. 
 She outlined the plan to rebuild Farwell, she told about 
 the party for the strikers. 
 
 She put her own picturesque self into the recital and 
 to Miss Earl it was like a drama, or a moving picture 
 unrolling itself before her. She took in all that was 
 said, much that was unsaid. She read at once Joan's 
 reason for dragging Dick to his uncle's rescue, although 
 no hint of it was spoken. 
 
 "And so you feel that your work there is finished?" 
 
 "I feel that Dick can go on now, without me." 
 
 "And Mr. Farwell?" 
 
 "I was never so essential to Mr. Farwell as I was 
 to Dick," she evaded. 
 
 "How did they feel about your coming away so sud- 
 denly?" 
 
 "I didn't tell them, at least, they know now. I 
 wrote them last night after I arrived." 
 
 "You ran away?"
 
 THE THRESHOLD 319 
 
 "Yet.' 1 
 
 "But why?" 
 
 "Because" 
 
 She stopped, her troubled eyes fixed on Miss Earl. 
 
 "Don't tell me a word that you may regret," that 
 woman said quickly. 
 
 "I do want to tell you only it is not easy. You see, 
 at the last something happened that I did not want to 
 happen. I had been preventing it for months " 
 
 "Dick fell in love with you," remarked Miss Earl 
 casually. 
 
 "How did you know?" questioned Joan. 
 
 "Well, it seems the most probable thing, after the 
 crises you had faced together. You are not unattrac- 
 tive, as I suppose you know." 
 
 "And Dick is so very young," Joan completed the 
 sentence. "Young lads are so liable to fall in love 
 with older girls I suppose it was inevitable," she 
 sighed. 
 
 "You say you tried to stop it?" 
 
 "Yes I realized the danger months ago. The boy 
 was lonely, and I brought him companionship. He 
 was idle and I brought him work that he liked. I was 
 the first woman he had ever known well, and as you 
 say, we went literally through fire and water together." 
 
 "How big a difference is there in your ages?" 
 
 "Six years." 
 
 "Couldn't it be spanned?" 
 
 "I don't love him," Joan said. "He is the dearest 
 boy in the world, but it is ridiculous to dream of my 
 marrying him." 
 
 "Poor Dick!" said Miss Earl. "I thought he was 
 a delightful boy."
 
 320 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "He is." 
 
 "Why didn't you marry Mr. Farwell?" inquired the 
 naughty Miss Earl. 
 
 "The humble factory girl, marrying the rich Earl 
 of the Hall, like they do in books," said Joan, with 
 slightly forced laughter. "One reason, dear Miss 
 Earl, was that he didn't ask me !" 
 
 "Hm ! You did run away ! And what do you in- 
 tend to do now?" she added. 
 
 "I think I'd better be getting at my regular job, 
 don't you? I want to organize women workers I've 
 seen the need of it so plainly in Farwell. It's the only 
 way for us to get on." 
 
 "All right. I can put you in touch with several 
 women connected with trades unions." 
 
 Miss Earl went to the filing cabinet and came back 
 with a drawer. 
 
 "I wonder if you will pull out a card this time, that 
 is to change my whole life, as that other one did," 
 Joan said. 
 
 "I suppose every card in this drawer may change 
 somebody's life," Miss Earl replied. 
 
 "Yet you handle them as if they were just cards." 
 
 "They are, my dear," said Miss Earl quietly. 
 "Fortunately, I'm not encumbered with too much imagi- 
 nation. If I dramatized my work sufficiently I might 
 lose my courage to go on, changing people's lives, mix- 
 ing them up, like a busy old Fate." 
 
 When Joan left the office to go and call on a Trades 
 Union organizer, she left her address with Miss Earl 
 and promised to have dinner with her on the following 
 night. 
 
 Miss Earl gave herself over to thought for several 
 moments after Joan left. She diagnosed the situation
 
 THE THRESHOLD 321 
 
 pretty accurately, too. It was therefore no great sur- 
 prise to her when Gregory Farvrell presented himself 
 at her office the next day. 
 
 "Miss Earl, I trust you have not forgotten me," he 
 said on entering. 
 
 "Not at all, Mr. Farwell. How is your nephew, 
 Mr. Norton?" 
 
 "He's well. Has Miss Babcock been here to see 
 you, Miss Earl?" he inquired anxiously. 
 
 "I understand that Miss Babcock has left your em- 
 ploy," she evaded. 
 
 "She told you that? Oh, I was afraid that was what 
 she meant," he exclaimed. 
 
 "I think Miss Babcock feels that she has finished her 
 work at Farwell. She wishes not to outstay her use- 
 fulness." 
 
 "Her usefulness! Miss Earl, I must see her and 
 have a talk with her. It is not fair to any of us for 
 her to go away like this " he said earnestly. 
 
 "I am not free to tell you where she is, Mr. Farwell, 
 without her permission." 
 
 "Then call her up and get her permission. I must 
 see her, Miss Earl," he said brusquely. 
 
 She hesitated a second then went to the outer office 
 and told the operator to call Joan for her. While she 
 waited she tried to chat with Gregory, but he was too 
 impatient to disguise his anxiety. Presently the 'phone 
 rang. 
 
 "Joan this is Miss Earl. Mr. Farwell is here in 
 my office. He is most anxious to see you. I will not 
 give him your address unless you say I may." 
 
 She listened, then turned to Gregory. 
 
 "She says she wants a little more time, that she will 
 will see you some day later "
 
 322 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 He quietly took the 'phone out of her hand. 
 
 "Joan it must be today. It isn't like you to 
 be unfair to to hurt your friends," he said 
 gravely. . . . 
 
 "I will be there in five minutes," he replied. 
 
 "Thank you, Miss Earl," he said briefly, and was 
 gone before she could answer. 
 
 The Bureau was looking up as a matrimonial agency, 
 was her inner comment. 
 
 Meantime Gregory made his way to Joan's hotel. 
 He urged the taxi driver to top speed. It was only 
 about fifteen minutes later that he went into a queer, 
 stuffy hotel parlour to find her waiting for him. For- 
 tunately it was empty. He took her hands. 
 
 "Joan why?" 
 
 "Oh, Gregory why didn't you let me have a little 
 time to think?" 
 
 "Miss Earl says you are looking for a new position." 
 
 "She should not have told you that." 
 
 "I can't let you do that dear." 
 
 "Gregory let's sit down on this ugly, hard sofa, 
 and be very sensible." 
 
 "I'm not going to be sensible. I am going to tell 
 you how much I love you how necessary you are to 
 me, like the air I breathe how desperate I was at the 
 thought of losing you." 
 
 "Gregory," she began faintly. 
 
 "Why did you run away?" he demanded. 
 
 "I didn't want you to be sorry for me to be 
 chivalrous isn't that the word?" 
 
 "Sorry for you ? How could I be, when I adore you. 
 Oh, Joan Joan What you have done to me !" he said 
 earnestly. "Can you give me your love, my dear?"
 
 THE THRESHOLD 323 
 
 "Gregory, you aren't being influenced by what you 
 heard Dick say?" 
 
 "I am only influenced by what you said to Dick." 
 
 She questioned that. 
 
 "I did not tell you all this when you came back to 
 the Hall, because Dick admitted to me that he loved 
 you, and I wanted the boy to have his chance." 
 
 "Dear old Dick." 
 
 "You made us both suffer that night you ran away." 
 
 "Oh, I didn't mean to. But it was so hard not to 
 break down and cry. I meant it to be my last dinner at 
 the Hall." 
 
 "And you were sorry, Joan?" 
 
 "Sorry? Yes." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because I had been happy there happier than I 
 had ever been in my life." 
 
 "Was it only because of the factory workers that 
 you were happy?" he persisted. 
 
 "No of course not." 
 
 "Dick made you happy?" 
 
 "Yes" 
 
 "Oh, Joan, can't you be a little kind?" 
 
 "My dear you made me happy there " she said 
 frankly and tenderly. 
 
 He put his arms about her, but she slipped from 
 them resolutely. He looked at her anxiously. 
 
 "What is it, Joan?" 
 
 "It's everything." 
 
 "Do you love me?" 
 
 "I cannot marry you, Gregory. My life is dedicated 
 to work, to helping the people I come from " she be- 
 gan hurriedly. "I cannot go and settle down at the
 
 324 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 Hall, as your wife. I would feel that I had been a 
 traitor to my class." 
 
 "Do you love your class, as you call it, more than 
 you do me?" he asked her, puzzled at her evident dis- 
 tress. 
 
 "That is what I must decide. That is what I came 
 away to think over." 
 
 "I don't understand at all, Joan but I want to be 
 fair. It seems to me that if a woman loves a man, her 
 place is with him. If she fills his life, gives him chil- 
 dren, makes the world better for a happy family, isn't 
 that enough for any woman?" 
 
 "Yes, my dear, it is enough for any woman, but not 
 enough for some women. I want to find out which I 
 am." 
 
 "Dearest, we can't quibble about this. We love 
 each other, we belong to each other that is the only 
 thing that counts," he cried to her. 
 
 "I wish I could tell you how I feel about love, 
 Gregory. I came across a little poem the other day 
 called, "The Door." 
 
 She repeated it to him slowly, softly: 
 
 "THE DOOR" 
 
 "Love is a proud and gentle thing, a better thing to own 
 Than all of the wide impossible stars over the heavens blown, 
 And the little gifts her hand gives are careless given or taken, 
 And tho the whole great world break, the heart of her is not 
 shaken. . . . 
 
 "Love is a viol in the wind, a viol never stilled, 
 And mine of all is the surest that ever God has willed ; 
 I shall speak to her tho she goes before me into the grave, 
 And tho I drown in the sea, herself shall laugh upon a wave;
 
 THE THRESHOLD 325 
 
 And the things that love gives after shall be as they were before, 
 For life is only a small house . . . and love is an open door." 
 
 "Somehow it seems as if I could not go into the 
 small house, alone with you, and shut the door. It 
 seems as if love ought to make us so big, so tender that 
 the door must always stand open to all the world. 
 Does that tell you what I mean?" 
 
 "A little. It's a part of your modern world, that I 
 have no place in," he sighed. "What is it you want 
 me to do, beloved of my heart?" 
 
 "I want you to let me have all the time I need to 
 think this out. If I come to stay with you, Gregory, 
 for ever and a day, I want to come freely and of my 
 own choice. If I decide I must go on with my work, 
 I want to have no regrets." 
 
 "You will not come back to the Hall?" 
 
 "Not for a while. I can't think clearly when I am 
 with you." 
 
 "My dearest!" 
 
 "No please help me with this. I'll come back in 
 the summer. Perhaps you'll let me bring Miss Earl 
 for the month of her vacation." 
 
 "Of course, if you think there should be some one." 
 
 Dick plunged through the curtains and into the room. 
 
 "Here you are!" he exclaimed. 
 
 "Dick!" Joan said, and smiled. He looked so 
 flushed and distressed. "How did you find me?" 
 
 "I wrung the name of the place out of that Miss 
 Earl." 
 
 "Poor Miss Earl," Joan said. 
 
 "I guess it is poor Miss Earl. I nearly scared her to 
 death. She wasn't going to give it to me, so I told her 
 I'd be forced to sit there until you came in again."
 
 326 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "Dick!" 
 
 "I thought I'd find you here," he remarked to his 
 uncle. 
 
 "You're not disappointed then." 
 
 "Are you going to marry him, Joan ?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "You've got to decide. I've been so upset ever since 
 you left that I haven't done a thing on the plans " 
 
 "Upset, Dick?" 
 
 "Yes I can't go ahead with the thing without you 
 and you know it. I want you to come back and get to 
 work, that's what I want. You started this thing and 
 I think you ought to see it through," Dick said hotly. 
 
 "I'm sorry Dick, but it isn't possible " 
 
 Gregory took a turn or two up and down the floor, 
 hands in pockets, head down. 
 
 "Go back with him, Joan. I'll take myself out of 
 the picture for such time as you may decide upon." 
 
 "That isn't fair to you " she began. 
 
 "Yes that's the way to arrange it. Consider it 
 settled. The boy's right. He needs you to help swing 
 this big job. We'll get to our affair later." 
 
 "That's very like you, Gregory." 
 
 "Get your bag then, and let's catch the 2:10. 
 Betts has got some blue prints to decide on this after- 
 noon," said Dick. 
 
 Joan laughed. 
 
 "All right," she said. "I have to stop at Miss 
 Earl's office on the way. 
 
 She was back shortly and they set off for the Bureau. 
 Gregory was to go to the Hall until he settled on his 
 plans. 
 
 At the Bureau they went into Miss Earl's office three 
 abreast.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 327 
 
 "Miss Earl," said Joan, "I'm caught and I'm being 
 taken back." 
 
 "Forcibly?" 
 
 "No willingly." 
 
 "Your brief sojourn here has, I may say, been 
 somewhat upsetting to the Bureau," the manager said 
 with a humorous twinkle. 
 
 "I know. I do hope Dick didn't" 
 
 "You needn't hope it he did!" 
 
 "Sorry had to," remarked the culprit. 
 
 "You've been very good to all of us, Miss Earl, and 
 we want you at Farwell for a month at least this 
 summer " Gregory began. 
 
 "Cut it short, Uncle Greg. We'll miss the train." 
 
 "We're going on the 2 no," smiled Joan. 
 
 "I hope you don't miss it this time " said Miss 
 Earl fervently.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 BACK to the Hall they journeyed. Joan drew a 
 breath of satisfaction when they stepped within 
 its doors again. Gregory caught the signifi- 
 cance of her sigh and smiled at her. 
 
 "I am not acting on my best judgment at all. I am 
 being persuaded through my affections," she said to 
 him. 
 
 "I approve the route your affections lead you," he 
 said gently. 
 
 The next few days were a trifle difficult for all three 
 of them, since their relationship had been subtly 
 changed by the emotional crises that had come to 
 them. But Joan led the way with a matter of fact 
 manner which established her intention of keeping 
 emotion of all kinds out of the picture. 
 
 Gregory made his leisurely arrangements to go south. 
 He stood by his offer to vacate the field for Dick, dur- 
 ing the initial steps of his big task, but now that the 
 time had come, he felt a bit aggrieved at having to exile 
 himself. He watched Joan closely, and if she was 
 aware of any added tenderness in his manner toward 
 her, she made no least acknowledgment. She had 
 said that she could not face her decision about her life, 
 without bias, while he was there. It seemed incredible 
 that this business-like young woman, who surrounded 
 herself with urgent tasks, so that there was never a 
 chance of a tete-a-tete with her, would allow anything 
 or anybody to influence her judgment. 
 
 328
 
 THE THRESHOLD 329 
 
 "Gregory, do you want to change your mind about 
 going away?" she said to him. "I can persuade Dick 
 to let me go, I feel sure." 
 
 "You still feel that we ought to be separated while 
 you decide?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I can't see that I mean any more to you than that 
 table. You treat me with the same impersonality you 
 show toward the table. I should think that any one 
 who had themselves in hand like that " he began. 
 
 "I came back to please you and Dick, you remember/* 
 I'm going. I shall leave tomorrow," he replied 
 curtly. 
 
 "Why don't you stay here and let me move to the 
 village?" she suggested. 
 
 "The matter is settled. I go tomorrow and you stay 
 on here and help Dick." 
 
 "But I cannot let you go feeling that you have been 
 put out that you are unfairly treated " 
 
 He looked into her serious-eyed, anxious face. 
 
 "Poor little Joan! It's all right. It was my own 
 suggestion, and I go willingly. Only don't be too 
 long deciding, dear. Remember that like the soul of 
 Tomlinson, I shall hover between Heaven and Hell." 
 
 "I shall not forget," she replied gravely. 
 
 He took her hands and kissed them. It was their 
 real farewell, because she gave him no opportunity for 
 another, up to the time of his departure. 
 
 Joan and Dick plunged into the problems of the new 
 village, in earnest now. Every waking minute was 
 spent in some sort of planning, considering, deciding. 
 At meals they discussed nothing else. They fairly 
 dreamed of it by night. 
 
 The plans grew into blue prints, in Betts' untiring
 
 330 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 hands. Orders were placed for materials to use in the 
 building. Dick and Patsy went to New York to get 
 on the track of a general manager of the new plant, 
 with Patsy to act as foreman. They invited Saunders 
 to go with them to decide on the most modern ma- 
 chinery to be installed. He accepted and they spent 
 days conferring and deciding before they put in their 
 orders. 
 
 Dick insisted upon a more up-to-date manager than 
 Saunders had been, but he asked the older man to head 
 the order department. He refused it. He assured 
 them that he knew they were headed straight for ruin. 
 He informed them that the minute you began to favour 
 labour, labour took advantage of you. The boys in- 
 vited him to visit the factory one year after its new 
 beginning that he might see what modern ways and 
 thoughts could accomplish. 
 
 They made mistakes, of course. Their youth and 
 their inexperience might have wrecked the whole pro- 
 ject in the end, if, as Joan said, "the Lord had not 
 raised up a man," to help them in their need. 
 
 The rumour of their venture had spread through 
 factory circles in the state, and one day a man walked 
 into the offices they had established in Farwell, and 
 offered himself as manager. He was forty-five years 
 old, experienced in the industry, had managed a cotton 
 goods factory in the state and had come up from the 
 ranks himself. He had heard about Dick's plan it 
 had interested him, and he forthwith presented himself 
 for their service. His name was Frank Sims. 
 
 The boys liked him. They looked up his record, 
 found it satisfactory and hired him. They took him 
 about among the men and women workers. He made 
 himself solid with them at once, because he knew their
 
 THE THRESHOLD 331 
 
 life and needs. His judgment was, from that time, 
 the compass by which the youthful enthusiasts steered. 
 Sims knew how to sift the grain from the chaff of their 
 ideas, and he never made the mistake of offending 
 them by an attitude of tolerant endurance. He was a 
 thoughtful man, self-educated, a social democrat of 
 solid convictions. He wanted to see all the social ex- 
 periments tried which could be made practical. He 
 saw that these boys had an idea, plus a feeling for co- 
 operation. He saw a chance here for the workers, he 
 threw his whole energy into the balance. 
 
 Late February and March saw the men all em- 
 ployed in gathering and hauling stone for the founda- 
 tion work. Each gang chose its own foreman from its 
 number, and the work was entered into in holiday spirit. 
 
 Joan and Mrs. Rafferty induced the boys to have 
 two men and two women elected by the workers to act 
 as their representatives and to help pass on decisions as 
 to the building and equipping of the factory. This 
 they did and while it made it a trifle unwieldy to have 
 so many on the committee, it proved a very popular 
 move with the people. 
 
 The clubs among the women and children were 
 organized. The garden clubs came first. Certain 
 groups were to look after certain things. It was diffi- 
 cult to keep them from beginning long before the 
 ground was thawed. A discussion arose as to the di- 
 vision of the gardens. Since there was no way of 
 knowing now, which family would have which cottage, 
 how could they identify their own gardens? 
 
 "But there isn't going to be mine and thine in these 
 gardens. They are to be 'ours,* " Joan explained to 
 them. "We want everybody to have a good garden. 
 We'll start out all the gardens alike, then later it will
 
 332 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 be up to each one of you as to which ones do the 
 best. We are all to work together our factory our 
 cottages our gardens don't you see ?" 
 
 "But I don't know nuthin' about gardenin'," said one 
 woman. 
 
 "Then you are the one we all want to help," Joan 
 said. "Isn't that so, friends?" 
 
 They agreed that it was, but none too heartily. This 
 particular woman was a slack, miserable creature, 
 looked down on by her own neighbours. Joan hoped 
 to redeem her, but Mrs. Rafferty was sceptical. It was 
 by no means plain sailing with these women. They 
 had their likes and their dislikes, their cliques and their 
 class distinctions just like every other grade of society. 
 Mrs. Rafferty looked upon Mrs. Kovlatski as little 
 more than a dog and so it went. They were stupid, 
 work-worn, uneducated folk. They were not waking 
 up in a jiffy to the beautiful doctrine of brotherly love, 
 they were not seeing the light as Joan saw it. 
 
 Mrs. Rafferty punctured some of Joan's dreams 
 promptly. 
 
 "Ye ain't goin' to make new folks av thim, by jest 
 putting 'em in new houses," she repeatedly counselled. 
 "Polacks is Polacks in shanties, or in model cottages." 
 
 "But even Polacks can learn." 
 
 "I ain't so sure. There's loafers an' workers, an' 
 the loafers ull live off'n the workers jest the same in 
 good factory towns or bad," said the wise old woman. 
 
 "But you don't think there's anything that Patsy and 
 Jimmy and the rest of your children can't learn," Joan 
 said. 
 
 "They're Irish an' smart." 
 
 But Joan worked away on her recruits. She man- 
 aged to inspire them with a desire to get at the digging,
 
 THE THRESHOLD 333 
 
 and April, which promised an early spring, saw the 
 garden squads at work. The company provided tools, 
 seeds and fertilizer. 
 
 The work of digging up the tough sod of the big 
 plot which had been chosen for the vegetable gardens, 
 did not daunt the foreign-born peasant women at all. 
 The girls who had worked in the factory were not so 
 strong could not endure so much as their mothers, but 
 old and young worked early and late on the digging, 
 ploughing, fertilizing, and planting of the vegetables. 
 They took turns, certain women serving certain days, 
 with the women at home feeding the children of the 
 absent gardeners. Joan thrilled at what she thought 
 was the birth of a real community spirit, but Mrs. Raf- 
 ferty scoffed when she spoke of it to her. 
 
 May saw the foundations dug, and laid. Joan and 
 Dick organized a ceremony for the laying of the foun- 
 dation stone. There were speeches and exercises, and 
 the children sang a dedicatory hymn. They did not 
 all fully understand the significance of the occasion, 
 but it was a beautiful day and they enjoyed the holiday 
 and the air of festivity. On the whole, friendly feel- 
 ings were promoted. 
 
 June arrived with perfect weather which favoured 
 them. About the middle of that month a delegation of 
 women visited the office. They asked Dick to take a 
 sufficient number of men off the factory work, to dig 
 the foundations for the first row of cottages. They 
 would work on the mason work of the cellars, and later, 
 in the actual construction, under the direction of a boss. 
 Dick and Sims laughed at the idea, begged them to be 
 patient the most important thing was to get the fac- 
 tory done and operating. But the women were in- 
 sistent. The gardens were needing less attention now,
 
 334 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 they wanted to be working on their homes. Would 
 the Company experiment with one cottage, giving the 
 women a chance to show what they could do? Dick 
 finally agreed to that, after consultation with his com- 
 mittee. Joan urged it, and work was begun on the 
 first house. As soon as the earth was dug, the place 
 fairly swarmed with women, anxious to work on the 
 cellar. It was done in no time, and the contractor 
 laughingly admitted that it was done well. That set- 
 tled it. Work went ahead on the cellars of other cot- 
 tages. The women drew full wages with the men 
 the children drew a wage scaled to their age and use- 
 fulness. 
 
 "The women are speeding up the men," Dick laughed 
 one summer night, as he and Joan sat on the terrace, 
 after dinner. 
 
 "It's inspiring to me the way they work. They're 
 putting sentiment into the building of their own homes 
 and muscle. It's appalling how strong those older 
 women are. I have to hold them back all the time, or 
 they would move iron girders and piles of brick." 
 
 "I don't suppose there has ever been anything like it 
 in this country before, do you?" Dick inquired. 
 
 "Probably not. Oh, Dick, isn't life fun, when you 
 feel that your work counts?" 
 
 "You bet it is. I never knew what fun was be- 
 fore." 
 
 "It has been a wonderful year." 
 
 "Is it only a year? It seems as if you had always 
 been here, Joan, helping us, scolding us, keeping us 
 on the job." 
 
 "Sounds awfully unpleasant of me, Dick." 
 
 "Unpleasant enough, often, but look where it's got 
 us."
 
 THE THRESHOLD 335 
 
 "I wish we could have interested Mr. Farwell in 
 it all," Joan sighed. 
 
 "Too late. Uncle Greg got the wrong start. Your 
 start makes such a big difference, doesn't it?" 
 
 "Dick, did Mr. Farwell ever tell you where I got 
 my start?" 
 
 "No. Does he know?" 
 
 "I told him. Haven't you ever wondered about 
 where I came from?" 
 
 "Mrs. Rafferty told me you had come from working 
 people. I shut her up, because it was none of my 
 business." 
 
 "Good old Dick! I think I'd like you to know. I 
 was born in a cottage in Whiting, Indiana not much 
 better than the shanties in Farwell. My father worked 
 in the steel mills there. The town is uglier than Far- 
 well flat, sordid, smokesmothered. The furnaces 
 blaze all day and all night alternate glare and gloom. 
 There are always accidents men are always being 
 killed my father was one of them." 
 
 "Oh, Joan!" he exclaimed tenderly. 
 
 "He believed in the workingman. He read and 
 studied and wanted to help working conditions. He 
 didn't have any money, and he had my mother and me 
 to think of so he didn't accomplish anything, except 
 me. But he made me understand that my work was 
 to do what he wanted to and couldn't." 
 
 "I see. That's why you care so." 
 
 "Yes. My mother was the bitter, enduring kind. 
 She always stands for unorganized labour in my mind. 
 She worked in a factory too. She always had a griev- 
 ance she hated the employing class, but she didn't 
 count. Do you see?" 
 
 "Yes. What happened to her ?"
 
 336 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "She died, an old, old woman at fifty. She was 
 broken-down and worn out just waste." 
 
 "But you, Joan how did you get your start?" 
 
 "I was born a rebel. Naturally enough, since my 
 parents were too, in their different ways. When I was 
 a little girl I made up my mind to get out of the machine 
 that had caught them and ground them to bits. I soon 
 saw that education was the way of escape. So I fought 
 for one and got it." 
 
 "I see why it seems so important to you. No wonder 
 you thought I was a criminal to shirk mine. Why 
 didn't you tell me this before, Joan?" 
 
 "How I came to be what I am isn't important, is it? 
 What I do with myself is what counts. I wanted so to 
 make you see what responsibility you assumed when 
 you inherited and my word ! haven't I just tumbled 
 things over right and left?" 
 
 "Yes but I think we'll build something worth while 
 yet." 
 
 "So do I. I couldn't go on, if I didn't, Dick." 
 
 "When we get the new place finished and running, 
 then what will you do ?" 
 
 "I'm going to think that out, when I have more time. 
 I'm so busy now with each day's work " she said hur- 
 riedly. 
 
 "You ought to get other companies to do as we have 
 here. You ought to go all over the country and get 
 them worked up to it," he cried. "That would be 
 great." 
 
 She made no answer to that. 
 
 "Couldn't you marry me and let me go, too?" he in- 
 quired. 
 
 "No, Dick." 
 
 "Well, if it isn't Uncle Greg nor me, then you ought
 
 THE THRESHOLD 337 
 
 to marry somebody like Sims, who understands the 
 labouring class perfectly." 
 
 "But I don't want to warry Sims." 
 
 "He's great! One of the finest fellows I ever met." 
 
 "I'm sure of it," she agreed, smiling. 
 
 "You might go far and do worse. You have to 
 marry somebody. It's too lonesome for a woman all 
 alone." 
 
 "It is, rather." 
 
 "I'm glad you told me about yourself." 
 
 "I sort of wanted to review it." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because it gives me a clear view of my work and 
 what I must do." 
 
 "No hurry. You've got some job on your hands 
 right here !" he reminded her. 
 
 Had he but known, she needed no reminding of that 
 fact. She had said with truth that she needed to call 
 up her past to goad her flagging purpose into action. 
 She managed not to face her problem during the busy 
 day, but with the night, it found her unprotected. 
 Gregory's letters never urged her to decide; they 
 were charming, impersonal epistles which claimed noth- 
 ing of her. 
 
 "I find that without my suspecting it you have man- 
 aged to somewhat change my point of view about peo- 
 ple. I am no longer able to be unaware of them. 
 Since human needs have laid their urgence upon me 
 since I know what it is to yearn for love, for a wife and 
 children, I find myself drawn nearer to my kind. I 
 look at them and speculate about them. I do not love 
 them, as you and Dick would have me do but I feel 
 as if we were all sheep, turned into one great pasture, 
 moved by the same desires and wants. . . .
 
 338 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "I don't enjoy being a sheep it is so undistin- 
 guished." 
 
 Joan read and re-read his letters. They were more 
 intimate glimpses into his mind than she had ever 
 had. Philosophic, descriptive, sometimes brilliant, 
 they were as expressive as his hands. They brought 
 home to her, with emphasis, the bitter realization of 
 what it would mean to shut out of her life for good 
 all that Gregory Farwell meant to her. 
 
 Just how much was a woman's work justified in re- 
 quiring the sacrifice of the woman's fullest personal 
 life? If she married Gregory and fulfilled what she 
 was beginning to recognize as her heart's desire, must 
 she lose her usefulness in the work she had set out to 
 do? She wondered if this was getting to be more 
 and more of a problem with women who took their 
 work seriously. If only Gregory shared her ambition, 
 how ideal that would be! But, not only did he not 
 share it, but probably he would be unwilling to make 
 any compromise in the matter. It would be all or 
 nothing with him, she believed. 
 
 While she was trying to work out a solution for the 
 difficulty she had a letter from Miss Earl saying that 
 she was about to go away for her vacation. Joan sud- 
 denly felt the need of that woman's clear thinking 
 and friendly understanding. She consulted Dick, who 
 agreed to a telegram asking Miss Earl to come to them 
 for a fortnight at least. 
 
 Ruth Earl came herself as an answer. 
 
 When she and Joan drove up to the Hall, set in its 
 gardens, in all their early summer luxuriance of bloom, 
 Miss Earl fairly gasped. 
 
 "Oh, I didn't know it was like this!" she exclaimed.
 
 THE THRESHOLD 339 
 
 "I have always had a vision of Farwell Hall, but it 
 wasn't at all like this." 
 
 "It is very beautiful, isn't it?" 
 
 "To think of my having sent you here, to run this 
 great palace!" ejaculated Miss Earl, turning to stare 
 at Joan. 
 
 "And think of my doing it!" she laughed in answer. 
 
 "Yes think of your doing it," her guest repeated. 
 
 It was the beginning of much pleasant companion- 
 ship for both of the women, and a cementing of their 
 friendship. Miss Earl was deeply interested in the 
 factory experiment. 
 
 The first day Joan took her to the new site, they got 
 out of the motor and climbed a slight hill before which 
 the whole scene spread like a panorama. The sound 
 of singing came to them, before they reached the top. 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "It is the men. They almost always sing at their 
 work," Joan answered. 
 
 They came to the crest of the hill and looked into 
 the long green valley. The great factory was rising 
 there, its walls growing each day. The men ran over 
 it, like ants at their building, and as they hammered and 
 sawed and plastered the bricks, they sang. 
 
 On the low hills that lifted their heads above the 
 valley, were more workers the women the beavers, 
 at their home-making. Sometimes they took up the 
 men's song in a treble chorus and shouted it back at 
 them. Beyond, in the garden ground, the children 
 weeded, and collected the bugs off the vines and vege- 
 tables. Over the whole scene the sun shone radiantly, 
 the sky stretched its blue canopy, the hills distilled their 
 peace.
 
 340 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 The two women stood in silence for many minutes. 
 When Miss Earl turned her face to Joan, there were 
 tears in her eyes. 
 
 "How labour is dignified when it is done with joy!" 
 she said. 
 
 "Yes, there is the beginning here of something we 
 need in the world, isn't there ? See Dick over there on 
 the hill, outlined against the sky? He is like a young 
 prophet come to lead them, isn't he?" Joan answered. 
 
 From that moment Miss Earl was absorbed in this 
 experiment. She went among the women and came to 
 know them. She talked with Dick and Joan by the 
 hour at night, about social conditions and labour prob- 
 lems, as she had come in touch with them through her 
 work. She gave them much of her wisdom and her 
 advice. Her enthusiasm over their plan was like a 
 new baptism. 
 
 Joan led her to talk of the personal problem of the 
 woman with a big social service to perform. 
 
 "Joan, I think that the height of a woman's social 
 service can be measured by the depth of her personal 
 experience and happiness. Don't you believe that a 
 woman who has known the deepest emotions, love of 
 husband, and of child, is better fitted to cope with broad 
 human needs than a woman who has denied these 
 things to herself? Or to whom life has denied them?" 
 
 "But if there is no compromise? If one must be 
 sacrificed or the other?" 
 
 "I don't believe in sacrifice," said the descendant of 
 a long line of Puritans. 
 
 But her words took root in Joan's heart, maybe 
 there was a way for her to both have love and give 
 love. When Miss Earl left, the evening of the last 
 day of her fortnight, Joan was saying over to herself
 
 THE THRESHOLD 341 
 
 her words, as she turned the runabout to go back to 
 the Hall. 
 
 "Will you take a passenger?" asked a well-known 
 voice, and her heart began strange antics. 
 
 "I came back for a minute or so do you mind?" 
 he inquired, seating himself beside her. 
 
 "No, I think I'm glad," she answered cautiously. 
 
 He looked at her, as if he had been long starved for 
 the sight of her. She sped the car forward and on the 
 road outside the town they came upon Dick and Patsy 
 and the whole troop of home-going labourers, men, 
 women and children. They were laughing and talking 
 and whistling and singing a happy, tired lot. The 
 sun slanted low behind them. 
 
 "They do look fit!" 
 
 "Here are Dick's happy villagers," said Gregory. 
 
 "Yes, they are finding health and happiness and, oh 
 so many other things !" Joan exclaimed. 
 
 "Well, I'm glad. They can thank you for that," he 
 said. "And what have you found in your heart for me, 
 Joan?" he added earnestly.
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 GREGORY did not leave the Hall again. 
 "Gregory," Joan said to him, the night of 
 his return, "a part of my deciding had to be 
 done with you away, the rest of it has to be done 
 with you here. Will you stay?" 
 
 "Gladly. But isn't that decision made yet?" 
 
 "Not quite. If we could let things drift until fall 
 if we could have a month or two of companionship, 
 like we used to have. I feel that we both have 
 changed, don't you?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Would it make you unhappy to spend a month or 
 two getting acquainted with the new Joan Babcock?" 
 
 "Do I need to say it would make me happy?" 
 
 "You agree, then?" 
 
 "My dear I agree to anything that keeps me near 
 you. Don't send me away again that is all I ask." 
 
 "One thing more. Shall we agree to save sentiment 
 until we know definitely about the future?" she said 
 shyly. 
 
 "I don't know how to save sentiment. Every time 
 I look at you, or touch your hand I tell you that I love 
 you. Am I not to look at you, or touch you?" 
 
 "You're not to tell me about it in words, please." 
 
 "Oh is that all? That's easy." 
 
 "You're a very nice man, Gregory," she admitted, 
 smilingly. 
 
 So there began for them a sort of period of pro- 
 bation. Joan was so busy with her work in connection 
 
 342
 
 THE THRESHOLD 343 
 
 with the new village, that at first Gregory rarely saw 
 her. But he remedied that by offering himself as 
 chauffeur. Back and forth they went between the vil- 
 lage and the Hall a dozen times a day. She fell into 
 the habit of submitting her many problems to him, on 
 these rides. His advice was often at odds with her 
 action, his comments on people were frequently hu- 
 morous. Joan delighted in the discovery that Gregory 
 and Mrs. Rafferty, bred at the opposite poles of the 
 social scale, shared the same scepticism in regard to 
 poor old blundering humanity. They saw the facts 
 where Joan saw the possibilities, they expressed con- 
 viction where she breathed hope. They kept her feet 
 and Dick's, too, on solid ground on many occasions. 
 
 In July Dick came to Joan with the suggestion that 
 they take up his work again in preparation for college. 
 
 "We can spend the mornings at the village and bone 
 in the afternoon, if you can stand that." 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "I've decided to get in this fall, if I can. Four 
 years is a long time, and I want to get them over and 
 be about my job out here." 
 
 "That's the way to talk, Dick." 
 
 "I don't think anybody on earth but you could get 
 me ready for exams. But I know it's pretty tough on 
 you to ask it of you, when you're working so hard at 
 this other thing." 
 
 "We can manage it all right, Dick, and I'd love to 
 help you," she said simply. 
 
 "You're a peach, Joan," he exclaimed with his old- 
 time boyish ardour. 
 
 So the days became one busy routine. Breakfast 
 was no longer a kisurely function at nine o'clock. 
 Joan and Dick were off on horses, or in the runabout,
 
 344 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 by eight o'clock. They put in the morning at the office 
 or at the works. The business was pretty well sys- 
 tematized by now, with Sims in the office, Patsy and 
 Betts and the contractor in charge of the actual con- 
 struction. Back to the Hall they went for luncheon 
 and from that time on until four-thirty they worked 
 over Dick's books. Then off he went for an inspection 
 of the day's work on the buildings while Joan rested 
 or drove or rode with Gregory. Dinner at eight, on 
 the terrace study for Dick, talk for the other two 
 until bedtime. 
 
 "Joan, you tireless woman !" Gregory said to her. 
 "This boy will wear you out." 
 
 "No, I love it. I wish you could realize how Dick 
 gallops along in his work. It is a business with him 
 now. He is so grown up, Gregory. He brings a 
 man's point of view to it, now. It seems impossible 
 that a year ago he was our lazy, aimless little boy 
 Dick." 
 
 "Are you sorry now you've got him 'wakened up,' 
 as you called it?" 
 
 "No I'm glad. He's going to be a fine man." 
 
 "You've done well with him, Joan. We all have 
 to admit it. But he absorbs a great deal of your time," 
 he complained. 
 
 "Dick is my job just now." 
 
 "Are you ever going to get to me?" 
 
 She smiled at him. 
 
 "I think so." 
 
 "I'm a patient man, Joan, but time is fleeting." 
 
 "This is Dick's summer, Gregory. Maybe the 
 autumn will be ours." 
 
 "Joan!" 
 
 "I said maybe."
 
 THE THRESHOLD 345 
 
 For the most part he kept his promise that sentiment 
 should be postponed for the time being. On their 
 walks and rides and drives they talked like good com- 
 rades, not like lovers. There was much in his world 
 of books and of the mind to which he could introduce 
 her, and she entered there, with the same ardour that 
 characterized everything she did. If he did not share 
 entirely her dream of a democracy based upon business 
 organized for the benefit of the community, and not for 
 the profit of the financier; if he could not see, as she 
 saw, an industrial revolution taking place under their 
 very eyes, which is to shift the emphasis in America, 
 from the capitalist to the producer; if for these and 
 other reasons she thought Dick's experiment more im- 
 portant than he did, at least his love had ground for 
 him new lenses through which to see her. He admired 
 her fine class loyalty, he respected her ideas, and he 
 came to have a sort of protecting tenderness for what 
 he conceived to be her youthful over-confidence in hu- 
 man nature and its ultimate nobility. So the summer 
 days drifted them toward each other. 
 
 One of the amusing developments of the summer to 
 Joan was a queer, give and take sort of friendliness 
 that grew up between Gregory and Mrs. Rafferty. On 
 the many occasions when he took Joan to the shanty or 
 called for her there, he acquired the habit of exchang- 
 ing ideas with the Irish woman. Her directness and 
 her hard common sense, often expressed with her 
 native wit, entertained him very much. 
 
 As for Mrs. Rafferty, she had respect for no man, 
 in the servile use of the word, and she gave King Far- 
 well as good as he gave her. 
 
 "My belief is, Mrs. Rafferty, that you undervalue 
 men," he remarked, during one of these conversations.
 
 346 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "I've not much av an opinion of 'em," she replied. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Well, man has been runnin' the worl-ld iver since 
 Adam's fall, ain't he?" 
 
 "I suppose he has." 
 
 "Well, all I got to say is, look at ut!" 
 
 "Oh, come now," he laughed, "this isn't such a bad 
 world." 
 
 "Ain't ut? Well, it's the worrst wan I've iver been 
 in." 
 
 "And you think it's all man's fault?" 
 
 "He's runnin' ut, ain't he?" 
 
 "Do you think women could run a better one?" he 
 teased her. 
 
 "I ain't braggin', but I doubt if they could do worse !" 
 
 "Didn't Mother Eve start the trouble?" 
 
 "She did not. She et the apple off'n the tree av 
 wisdom, loike the Sarpent told 'er to, an' that would 
 a be'n the ind av ut, if it ain't fer Adam, buttin' in, an' 
 gittin' us all into trouble." 
 
 "You think it was all right for Eve to eat the for- 
 bidden fruit?" 
 
 "Shure she was strong an' she could stand ut. But 
 it got Adam into an awful mess, an' men have niver 
 got us out of ut since." 
 
 "What are you two arguing now?" Joan interrupted 
 them. 
 
 "Mrs. Rafferty thinks Eve was a saint!" laughed 
 Gregory. 
 
 "Shure, I'm for wimmen," asserted his antagonist. 
 
 So, as usual, the discussion ended with laughter. 
 And, as usual, Gregory's amused comment as they 
 drove home was : 
 
 "She is a very clever old woman."
 
 THE THRESHOLD 347 
 
 "What do you think she said to me, after your last 
 argument? If King Farwell 'ud a be'n wan av my 
 byes, with the roight koind av bringin' up, he'd a be'n a 
 roight smart fella!" 
 
 Gregory laughed immoderately at that. Joan had 
 something to attend to at the factory, so they drove 
 up there. As they came in sight of it, they saw and 
 heard the activity. The walls were almost ready for 
 the roof now. They all hoped that Jaxiuary first 
 would see the factory running. They drove up to the 
 building and Joan went in search of the foreman, 
 while Gregory sat in the car and waited for her. The 
 men who passed him smiled and nodded, some of them 
 exchanged a word or two with him. One of the satis- 
 factions of the new regime to him was the attitude of 
 the men toward him. They no longer hated him he 
 was a part of the new order of things, whether he 
 would or no. 
 
 He watched them swarming over the place, he lifted 
 his eyes to where the women and children worked at 
 their share. They were all brown from the sun and 
 rain. They laughed much, and chaffed each other. 
 Had Joan and Dick voiced here a new age? Was the 
 era of personal profit to give place to the era of public 
 gain? Was co-operation, political and industrial, to 
 be the keynote of the future in our country? Were we 
 standing on the threshold? 
 
 "Dreaming, Gregory?" Joan asked him, as she 
 climbed in beside him. 
 
 "I was, rather." 
 
 "About what?" 
 
 "Has it occurred to you that we are a nation of indi- 
 vidualists, trying to make an antiquated theory of de- 
 mocracy work ?"
 
 34& THE THRESHOLD 
 
 "Yes. And the friction of these individualists is 
 what cripples our whole scheme. Individualism means 
 self-expression at the cost of everything. Capitalists, 
 at the expense of the producer, and vice versa. The 
 result is what happened in Farwell the energy of the 
 whole community was dissipated." 
 
 "You think that if the industries of the country could 
 co-operate with the political and economic power, that 
 we would get rid of this friction, and be more efficient?" 
 
 "Certainly, don't you?" 
 
 "What are you going to do with me in such a scheme 
 of things?" 
 
 "You mean you the Individualist?" 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 "We're going to ask you to believe that this old 
 bromide is actually true that every man has to be 
 supported by his own labour or that of others. 
 Wouldn't you be ashamed, once you realize that, to be 
 an idler, just because you can buy support, without 
 work?" 
 
 He thought about that for some time in silence. 
 
 "I suppose we'll never get anywhere," he mused, 
 "until the net power of the community is the total 
 power, developed by all the individuals." 
 
 "That's the man way of saying it, dear. I say it 
 woman-wise. The net power of the community is love 
 for that is the ultimate power, that makes men work 
 together for common ends. Fraternity is the net 
 power." 
 
 "I am beginning to understand the miracles love can 
 work," he said, turning to her. "You've taught me 
 that." 
 
 "No more than you've taught me."
 
 THE THRESHOLD 349 
 
 "Joan!" 
 
 "Why should I wait any longer to say 'I love you/ 
 Gregory?" she answered him. 
 
 The machine stopped suddenly. 
 
 "My dear love!" he said. 
 
 A long time afterward, she said to him, "You didn't 
 let me finish my sentence." 
 
 "You didn't need to I understood the rest." 
 
 "Dearest, do you? Do you understand that if I 
 come to live in the Hall for ever, that my prayer of 
 thanks for your love for my home must be my 
 work? I must go on with it, Gregory. It will take 
 me away from home, from you, often, sometimes for 
 long periods maybe Will you take me in spite of 
 that, my lover?" 
 
 "I'll take you on your own terms, my Joan. I must 
 find my work, too. I know you could not respect the 
 old Gregory, because he was a slacker. We must find 
 you a new Gregory." 
 
 "I could not love a new one more 1" 
 
 "I cannot work with the human end of it, as you do 
 and as Dick does. I don't love people as you do. I 
 never shall, my dear. But there are mental problems 
 in the big adjustments ahead where I may find my use- 
 fulness. Don't you believe that?" 
 
 "Thoroughly. The mind, and the heart, they are 
 part of our net profit, Beloved! We all contribute 
 what we have." 
 
 So they faced their future, these two, in mutual re* 
 spect and understanding. 
 
 In September, the factory gained its roof, amidst loud 
 rejoicings. Dick went off to take his entrance exami- 
 nations, and Gregory and Joan went about in a sort of
 
 350 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 daze of happiness. Joan had promised Dick a daily 
 report of progress at the factory, during his week of 
 absence, and her days were full to the brim. 
 
 In due time Dick returned, and two weeks later his 
 examination returns came. He had passed in a suffi- 
 cient number of subjects to admit him, with conditions. 
 The family celebrated the event with an evening in 
 New York. 
 
 They went to the restaurant where they had been 
 merry before. 
 
 "Was it in this life, we came here?" Gregory in- 
 quired of them 
 
 "Yes. But before, our three lives were all tied up 
 in one blessed tangle," Joan smiled. 
 
 "We were tied up then, too, all right. Only we 
 didn't know it," Dick remarked. 
 
 The next days Dick and Joan spent in shopping. He 
 was getting ready for his autumn semester, she for her 
 wedding, which was to take place at the Hall the night 
 Dick left for college. They were very gay over their 
 purchases. Gregory sometimes met them at luncheon, 
 and laughed at their bargains. 
 
 Each morning Dick had Patsy on the long distance 
 wire, to get a full report on the work in Farwell. 
 
 "Worse than a mother absent from her first born," 
 teased Gregory. 
 
 The first perfect days of autumn came, and with 
 them a period of relaxation and close companionship 
 for the three of them. Dick's preparations for de- 
 parture were all made, the next three months at the 
 factory planned out, the business organized. So he 
 was at peace in his mind about that. 
 
 From the first, when Joan told him that she loved 
 Gregory and was to marry him, Dick had achieved the
 
 THE THRESHOLD 351 
 
 perfect brother devotion. He showed her his affec- 
 tion, told her of it, but always as his uncle's wife-to-be. 
 
 The two men had gotten onto a comfortable plane 
 again, each understanding the other better. Then 
 their common love for Joan was a bond. 
 
 So they spent the red and yellow autumn days in the 
 saddle, or touring the countryside. Days of comrade- 
 ship long to be treasured in memory. 
 
 The wedding preparations were to be of the simplest. 
 First they decided to ask nobody to the ceremony but 
 Miss Earl. The day before she telegraphed a heart- 
 broken message, because she could not come. 
 
 "Isn't there some other woman you would like to 
 have, dearest?" Gregory inquired. 
 
 "Mrs. Rafferty," she laughed. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "It would hurt so many feelings in the village " 
 
 "Have them all, if you want to." 
 
 "Gregory you don't mean it?" she cried. 
 
 He stared at her then smiled. 
 
 "Dear, foolish creature, do you want them at your 
 wedding?" 
 
 She went to stand in the circle of his arm. 
 
 "You see, Beloved, they are my family," she ex- 
 plained. 
 
 "We'll have them, dear heart," he said tenderly. 
 
 So the invitations went out to the village, to the de- 
 light of Joan and Dick and the utter satisfaction of the 
 workers. Not even the smallest child sent regrets. 
 
 Gregory and Joan and Dick, with the minister, 
 stepped onto the terrace, in one of the gardens, bril- 
 liant now with the last flare of autumn flowers, at sun- 
 set time. The whole village in its best was massed 
 on the terraces below. Back of them the trees flaunted
 
 352 THE THRESHOLD 
 
 their glory, like a wedding garment. Back of them the 
 hills, yellow-brown, now rose to prick the horizon line, 
 tinted with the sun's late rays. 
 
 As they stepped up to take their places before the 
 clergyman, Joan's eyes swept the familiar, much loved 
 scene, came back to the affectionate faces lifted to them 
 from below, rested at last on Gregory's dear face, with 
 its tender smile. Her eyes and her heart were full, 
 as she laid her hand in his. 
 
 The celebration afterwards was always hazy in 
 Joan's mind. That everybody shook hands and wished 
 her happiness, she knew that affection surrounded 
 them. She had a recollection of dancing on the lawn, 
 and the shouts as they filed off homeward in the twi- 
 light. 
 
 She remembered Dick's coming to them with his bag 
 in hand. 
 
 "Well, Jergens is here. I'm off. I suppose you two 
 won't miss me much." 
 
 "On the contrary, we shall miss you all the time, my 
 dear, dear Dick " she had said, bending his head to 
 receive her kiss. 
 
 "Good luck, old dear," he had whispered to her 
 brokenly. "Good luck, Uncle Greg!" and then he was 
 gone, and she was alone with Gregory, her husband. 
 
 Hours later, she wrote a little note to Ruth Earl : 
 
 MY DEAR- 
 
 This is my wedding night, and I want to send you just a 
 line of gratitude for what you have made possible for me. You 
 began the story of Joan Babcock; now you must begin tht 
 story of Joan Farwell. 
 
 Gregory is walking on the terrace below, to finish a cigar, so 
 I have only a moment. You said that "the height of a woman's 
 service could be measured by the depth of her personal experi-
 
 THE THRESHOLD 3 S3 
 
 ence and happiness." If that were true, dear friend, I could 
 redeem the world! 
 
 I have no more doubts about my loyalty to my work I know 
 this way is the right way that I am sent to do certain things, 
 which no one else can do that I shall not depart until those 
 things are accounted unto me. So my heart is at peace. 
 
 Good night, and thanks. God bless you and bring you some 
 such benediction of joy as I know this night. 
 
 JOAN. 
 
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 Village of Vagabonds, A. By F. Berkley Smith. 
 
 Visioning, The. By Susan Glaspell. 
 
 Wall of Men, A. By Margaret H. McCarter. 
 
 Wallingford in His Prime. By George Randolph Chester 
 
 Wanted A Chaperon. By Paul Leicester Ford. 
 
 Wanted A Matchmaker. By Paul Leicester Ford. 
 
 Watchers of the Plains, The. By Ridgwell Cullum. 
 
 Way Home, The. By Basil King. 
 
 Way of an Eagle, The. By E. M. Dell. 
 
 Way of a Man, The. By Emerson Hough. 
 
 Way of the Strong, The. By Ridgwell Cullum. 
 
 Way of These Women, The. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. 
 
 Weavers, The. By Gilbert Parker. 
 
 West Wind, The. By Cyrus T. Brady. 
 
 When Wilderness Was King. By Randolph Parrish, 
 
 Where the Trail Divides. By Will Lillibridge. 
 
 Where There's a Will. By Mary R. Rinehart. 
 
 White Sister, The. By Marion Crawford. 
 
 White Waterfall, The. By James Francis Dwyer. 
 
 Who Goes There? By Robert W. Chambers. 
 
 Wiadow at the White Cat, The. By Mary Roberts Rinehart. 
 
 Winning of Barbara Worth, The. By Harold Bell Wright. 
 
 Whining the Wilderness. By Margaret Hill McCarter. 
 
 With Juliet in England. By Grace S. Richmond. 
 
 Witness for the Defense, The. By A, E. W. Mason.
 
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