The Conflict | Page 6

position--must get to be a popular leader--must hold high offices--and--and--all that.''
``I understand,'' said she. ``That sounds attractive. Yes, David, you ought to make a career. If I were a man that's the career I'd choose.''
``You can choose it, though you're a woman,'' rejoined he. ``Marry me, and we'll go up together. You've no idea how exciting campaigns and elections are. A little while, and you'll be crazy about it all. The women are taking part, more and more.''
``Who's Victor Dorn?'' she suddenly asked.
``You must remember him. It was his father that was killed by the railway the day we all went on that excursion to Indianapolis.''
``Dorn the carpenter,'' said Jane. ``Yes--I remember.'' Her face grew dreamy with the effort of memory. ``I see it all again. And there was a boy with a very white face who knelt and held his head.''
``That was Victor,'' said Hull.
``Yes--I remember him. He was a bad boy--always fighting and robbing orchards and getting kept after school.''
``And he's still a bad boy--but in a different way. He's out against everything civilized and everybody that's got money.''
``What does he do? Keep a saloon?''
``No, but he spends a lot of time at them. I must say for him that he doesn't drink--and professes not to believe in drink. When I pointed out to him what a bad example he set, loafing round saloons, he laughed at me and said he was spending his spare time exactly as Jesus Christ did. `You'll find, Davy, old man,' he said, `if you'll take the trouble to read your Bible, that Jesus traveled with publicans and sinners--and a publican is in plain English a saloonkeeper.' ''
``That was very original--wasn't it?'' said Jane. ``I'm interested in this man. He's--different. I like people who are different.''
``I don't think you'd like him, Victor Dorn,'' said David.
``Don't you?''
``Oh, yes--in a way. I admire him,'' graciously. ``He's really a remarkable fellow, considering his opportunities.''
``He calls you `Davy, old man,' '' suggested Jane.
Hull flushed. ``That's his way. He's free and easy with every one. He thinks conventionality is a joke.''
``And it is,'' cried Miss Hastings.
``You'd not think so,'' laughed Hull, ``if he called you Jane or Jenny or my dear Jenny half an hour after he met you.''
``He wouldn't,'' said Miss Hastings in a peculiar tone.
``He would if he felt like it,'' replied Hull. ``And if you resented it, he'd laugh at you and walk away. I suspect him of being a good deal of a poseur and a fakir. All those revolutionary chaps are. But I honestly think that he really doesn't care a rap for classes --or for money--or for any of the substantial things.''
``He sounds common,'' said Miss Hastings. ``I've lost interest in him.'' Then in the same breath: ``How does he live? Is he a carpenter?''
``He was--for several years. You see, he and his mother together brought up the Dorn family after the father was killed. They didn't get a cent of damages from the railroad. It was an outrage----''
``But my father was the largest owner of the railroad.''
Hull colored violently. ``You don't understand about business, Jen. The railroad is a corporation. It fought the case--and the Dorns had no money--and the railway owned the judge and bribed several jurors at each trial. Dorn says that was what started him to thinking --to being a revolutionist--though he doesn't call himself that.''
``I should think it would!'' cried Miss Hastings. ``If my father had known----'' She caught her breath. ``But he MUST have known! He was on the train that day.''
``You don't understand business, Jen. Your father wouldn't interfere with the management of the corporation .''
``He makes money out of it--doesn't he?''
``So do we all get money out of corporations that are compelled to do all sorts of queer things. But we can't abolish the system--we've got to reform it. That's why I'm in politics--and want you----''
``Something must be done about that,'' interrupted Jane. ``I shall talk to father----''
``For heaven's sake, Jen,'' cried David in alarm, ``don't tell your father I'VE been stirring you up. He's one of the powers in politics in this State, and----''
``I'll not give you away, Davy,'' said Miss Hastings a little contemptuously. ``I want to hear more about this Victor Dorn. I'll get that money for him and his mother. Is he very poor?''
``Well--you'd call him poor. But he says he has plenty. He runs a small paper. I think he makes about twenty-five dollars a week out of it--and a little more out of lecturing. Then--every once in a while he goes back to his trade--to keep his hand in and enjoy the luxury of earning honest money, as he puts it.''
``How queer!'' exclaimed Miss Hastings. ``I would like to meet him. Is he--very ignorant?''
``Oh, no--no, indeed. He's worked his way through college--and law school afterward. Supported the family