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Updated: June 2, 2025
"We'll put you out of business, if you insist on it. Anything to oblige. Better light a fresh cigar before you go." Tom helped himself from the box on the table. "You have it to do, Mr. Dracott. On the day you have hammered Chiawassee Limited down to a dead proposition, you can have my pipe patents at the figure named.
Later in the day, Tom crossed the pike to the oak-shingled office of the Chiawassee Consolidated. His father was deep in the new wage scale submitted by the miners' union, but he sat up and pushed the papers away when his son entered. "Have you seen this morning's Tribune?" asked Tom, taking the paper from his pocket.
By early autumn the iron industries of the country were gasping, and the stacks of pig in the Chiawassee yards, kept down a little during the summer by a few meager orders, grew and spread until they covered acres. As long as money could be had, the iron was bonded as fast as it was made, and the proceeds were turned into wages to make more.
His boyish awe for the old autocrat of Paradise had mellowed into an affection that was almost filial, and there was plenty to talk about: the final dash in the technical school; the outlook in the broader world; the great strike which was filling all mouths; the business prospects for Chiawassee Consolidated.
Chiawassee Consolidated was out of blast "temporarily suspended," in the pleasant euphemism of the elder Farley; the force, clerical and manual, was discharged, with only Dyckman left in the deserted South Tredegar offices to answer questions; and the three Farleys, with Major Dabney, Ardea and Miss Euphrasia, were to spend the summer in Europe. Caleb wrote in some bitterness of spirit.
"And the evidence is all the other way." Tom was silent. During the summer of strugglings he had gone pretty deeply into the history of Chiawassee Consolidated, and there was commercial sharp practice in plenty, with some nice balancings on the edge of criminality.
The eye-search was not fully concluded when Gordon pressed the electric button which summoned the young man who kept the local books of the Chiawassee plant across the way. While he waited he saw the conclusion of the eye-search and smiled rather grimly.
The Farleys were said to be rich and steadily growing richer not out of Chiawassee Iron, to be sure, but in others of their multifarious out-reachings; very good, he would be rich, too. What a Duxbury Farley could do, he would do; on a larger scale and with a stubborner patience. He
Farley had done nothing more revolutionary than to reëlect himself president of Chiawassee Consolidated, and to resume, with Dyckman as his lieutenant, the direction of its affairs, these prophets of evil were discredited.
She was cold with a horrible fear lest he should find out and she should be for ever lost in the bottomless pit of humiliation. It was the sight of the little orange-colored spot glowing and growing beyond the Chiawassee chimneys that saved her. "Look!" she cried. "Isn't that a fire down in the valley just across the pike from the furnace? It is a fire!"
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