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Updated: June 1, 2025
She was worried over the noticeable effect of the excitement upon her father. She was interested in McIver's talk of the situation. But in no vital way had her life been touched by the industrial trouble. In no way had she come in actual contact with it.
Farther up the river a dull red glow flushed the sky. "McIver's!" "The factory!" The Interpreter said, quietly, "Jake Vodell." With every second the red glow grew brighter reaching higher and higher spreading wider and wider over the midnight sky.
Two or three of the other smaller unions supported McIver's employees with sympathetic strikes. But the success or failure of Jake Vodell's campaign quickly turned on the action of the powerful Mill workers' union. The commander-in-chief of the striking forces must win John Ward's employees to his cause or suffer defeat. He bent every effort to that end. Sam Whaley and a few like him walked out.
But, in spite of the relief she gained from the strength of McIver's convictions, some strange influence within herself prevented her from yielding. She probably would yield at last, she told herself drearily because there seemed to be nothing else for her to do. Meanwhile, from his hut on the cliff, the Interpreter watched the approach of the industrial storm.
Vodell would provoke an attack on the soldiers, some one would be killed, and we would have exactly the sort of war against the government that he and his brotherhood are working for." The old workman spoke. "Charlie is right, daughter; these troubles will never be settled by McIver's way nor Vodell's way.
The glaring fact that emphasized the outcome of this official carelessness was an illiteracy, among white men and women, of 26 per cent. Among the Negroes it was vastly larger. Perhaps the greatest of those advocates whom the South loves to refer to as "educational statesmen" was Dr. Charles D. McIver, of Greensboro, N.C. McIver's personality and career had an heroic quality all their own.
As the manager, ignoring the voices, continued his appeal, the interruptions came with more frequency, accompanied now by groans, shouts, hisses and derisive laughter. "You're all right, John, but you're in with the wrong bunch." "We're going to run things for a while now and give you a chance to do some real work." The police pleaded with them. The mob jeered, "Go get a job with McIver's gunmen.
The opposing theory, which was skillfully advanced by Jake Vodell himself and fostered by his followers, was that the mysterious assassin was an agent of McIver's and that the deed was committed for the very purpose of charging the strikers with the crime and thus turning public sympathy against them.
In the other shops and factories and in the trades it is like McIver's factory, the men are not so well organized." Again the Interpreter interrupted. "The working people of Millsburgh, generally, receive the highest wage paid anywhere in the country, do they not?" "Ah, but surely that is not the question, comrade.
In the light of her education and environment, there was every reason why she should say, "Yes" to McIver's insistent pleadings. There was no shadow of a reason why she should refuse him. One word and the Helen of the old house would be banished forever the princess lady would reign undisturbed. And yet, for some reason, that word was not spoken. Helen told herself that she would speak it.
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