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Updated: June 18, 2025
Rilla had, without any warning, brought her a war-baby once upon a time. Was she now, with equal suddenness, going to produce a husband? "Yes, a wedding-cake a scrumptious wedding-cake, Susan a beautiful, plummy, eggy, citron-peely wedding-cake. And we must make other things too. I'll help you in the morning.
"You keep in touch with your employees through er your bankbook? But is it fair to judge them as men and women wholly on their ability to produce dividends for you?" "As an employer of labor, what other test would you have me apply?" says J. Q. "Then you are classing them with machines," says Eggy. "No," says Mr. Hubbard. "I can depend upon my looms not to go on strike."
"It it's to be about our foreign-born citizens," says Eggy. "Ah, I see!" says J. Q. "Pointing out the evils of unrestricted immigration, I presume?" "Well er not exactly," says Eggy. "Then I should advise you to make it so," says Mr. Hubbard. "In fact, if the subject were well handled, and the case put strongly enough to meet my views, I think I could assure its immediate publication."
"Then, Sir," goes on J. Q., "I must tell you that I consider you a most mischievous, if not dangerous person, and I feel it my duty to discourage such misdirected enterprise. Aren't you an instructor in economics under Professor Hartnett?" Eggy pleads guilty. "I thought I recognized the name," says J. Q. "Well, Mr.
No wonder Eggy is some agitated, after bein' hauled down two flights in that fashion! "Well," says I, as Swifty stands him up in front of us. "Who are your outside friends, and why?" "My my friends?" says he. "I I don't understand. And I must protest, you know, against this manner of " "Gwan!" says I. "I'm doin' all the protestin' here.
But all he does is stand there lookin' J. Q. Hubbard square in the eye and smilin' quiet. "Yes, I've heard sentiments like that before," says he. "I presume, Mr. Hubbard, that you know many of your mill operatives personally?" "No," says J. Q., "and I have no desire to. I haven't been inside one of our mills in fifteen years." "I see," says Eggy.
"But you own your looms," says Eggleston. "Your loom tenders are human beings." "When they mob strike breakers they behave more like wild animals, and then you've got to treat 'em as such," raps back J. Q. "Are you quite certain that the standards of humanity you set up are just?" asks Eggy.
"Let you what?" demands J. Q., starin' puzzled. "Introduce a few of them to you properly," says Eggy; "only four or five. Come, a handful of simple-minded peasants can't hurt you. They're poor, and ignorant, and not especially clean, I'll admit; but I'll keep them at a proper distance. You see, I want to show you something about them.
Eggy looks over the line, picks out a square-jawed, bull-headed, pie-faced Yon Yonson, with stupid, stary, skim-milk eyes, and leads him to the front. "A direct descendant of the old Vikings," says he, "a fellow countryman of the heroic Stefansson, of Amundsen. Just now he works as a longshoreman.
She will banish dyspepsia from the land, make obsolete the household drudge, and eliminate the antique kitchen from twenty million homes. Perhaps they will put up a statue in her memory." "Humph!" snorts Mr. Hubbard. "Is that one of H. G. Wells' silly dreams?" "You flatter me," says Eggy; "but you give me courage to venture still further. Now we come to the Slav."
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