in.”      

       There entered a young man in workman’s dress with his cap in his hand. His face was frank, clear-cut, and intelligent, and he had washed it when his work was done, which was a weakness not indulged in by the majority of his companions.     

       “Ah, Marsten,” said the manager, his brow clearing when he saw who it was.       “Did you get that job done in time?”      

       “It was off before half-past five, sir.”      

       “Right. Were there any obstacles thrown in your way?”      

       “None that could not be surmounted, sir.”      

       “Right again. That’s the way I like to have things done. The young man who can accomplish impossibilities is the man for me, and the man who gets along in this world.”      

       The young fellow turned his cap over and over in his hands, and, although he was evidently pleased with the commendation of the manager, he seemed embarrassed. At last he said, hesitatingly:     

       “I am very anxious to get on in the world, sir.”      

       “Well, you may have an opportunity shortly,” replied the manager.     

       Then he suddenly shot the question:     

       “Are you people going to strike?”      

       “I’m afraid so, sir.”      

       “Why do you say ‘afraid’? Are you going out with the others, or do you call your soul your own?”      

       “A man cannot fight the Union single-handed.”      

       “You are talking to a man who is going to.”      

       The young man looked up at his master.     

       “With you it is different,” he said. “You are backed by a wealthy company. Whether you win or lose, your situation is secure. If I failed the Union in a crisis, I could never get another situation.”      

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