I put the letter in my
pocket, and for a moment my brain never worked under higher
pressure. What should I say to them now? How could I explain
myself ?
Bill Hahn was evidently labouring under considerable excitement,
but R--- D--- was as calm as a judge. He sat down in the chair
opposite and said to me:
"We've been figuring out this proposition of Mr. Vedder's. Your
idea is all right, and it would be a fine thing if we could
really get together as you suggest upon terms of common
understanding and friendship."
"Just what Mr. Vedder said," I exclaimed.
"Yes," he continued, "it's all right in theory; but in this case
it simply won't work. Don't you see it's got to be war? Your
friend and I could probably understand each other--but this is a
class war. It's all or nothing with us, and your friend Vedder
knows it as well as we do."
After some further argument and explanation, I said:
"I see: and this is Socialism."
"Yes," said the great R--- D---, "this is Socialism."
"And it's force you would use," I said.
"It's force THEY use," he replied.
After I left the strike headquarters that evening--for it was
almost dark before I parted with the committee--I walked straight
out through the crowded streets, so absorbed in my thoughts that
I did not know in the least where I was going.
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