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Updated: June 21, 2025
Presuming that no one else wishes to speak, I shall ask Mr. Dartrey to say those few words." Miller sat frowning and biting his nails. Dartrey moved to the farther end of the room and looked down the long line of attentive faces. "Weavel," he said, "and you, my friends, I am not here to say a word in favour of either of the two candidates between whom you have to choose to-day.
He passed out, followed by Weavel. Graveling only lingered upon the threshold. He was looking towards Julia. "Miss Thurnbrein," he said, "can I have a word with you?" "You cannot," she replied steadily. He remained there, dogged, full of suppressed wrath. The sight of her taking her place before the typewriter seemed to madden him.
"Let them come in," he directed. The three men Peter Dale, Abraham Weavel and Graveling filed into the room a little solemnly. Maraton shook hands with the two former, but Graveling, who kept his head turned away from Julia, affected not to notice Maraton's friendly overtures. "So you managed it all right," Peter Dale remarked. "Pretty close fit, wasn't it?" "Seven hundred," Maraton replied.
Borden exclaimed. "It's six years since we had any sort of a dust-up, and my majority was the smallest of the lot of you, last election. Something's got to be done down my way. My chaps won't go paying in and paying in forever. We've fifty-nine thousand pounds waiting, and the condition of our girl labour is beastly." "Iron comes next," Weavel persisted stolidly.
Work, individual effort, unselfish enthusiasm, are the torches which should light on your cause. Money would only serve the purpose of a slow poison amongst you." "Prattle!" Abraham Weavel muttered. "Rot!" Peter Dale agreed. "Just another question, Mr. Maraton: Why have you kept this secret from us?" "I will make a statement," Maraton replied coolly. "Perhaps it will save needless questions.
Chairman," he said, "I call attention to the fact that two honorary members of this company are present. I submit that as these honorary members have no vote and the present meeting is called with the sole object of voting a chairman for the year, honorary members be not admitted." Mr. Weavel shook his head. "Honorary members have the right to attend all meetings of our society," he pronounced.
My telegram to you remained unanswered. Under those circumstances, I really can scarcely see how you find it possible to disown him." "In any case," Abraham Weavel intervened, with conciliation in his tone, "he didn't do himself a bit a' good nor you a bit of harm. Four hundred and thirty votes he polled out of eight thousand, and those were votes which otherwise would have gone to the Liberal.
"Four hundred a year and a hundred and fifty from subscriptions, and that's every penny I have to bring up seven children upon," Weavel declared with disgust. "And mine's less than that, and the subscriptions falling off," Borden grunted. "What sort of a Socialist is a man with five thousand a year who keeps his pockets tightly buttoned up, I should like to know?" Graveling exclaimed angrily.
May I ask whether you have conferred with your friends about the matter?" Maraton shook his head. "I have not even mentioned it to them. I met what I understand to be a committee of the Labour Party this morning a Mr. Dale, Abraham Weavel, Culvain, Samuel Borden and David Ross. Those were the names so far as I can remember. I did not mention my proposed visit to you at all.
It isn't a shilling or two more a week that the people want. It's a share a share to which they are, without the shadow of a doubt, entitled in the direct product of their labour." "That's sound enough," Peter Dale admitted. "How are you going to get it?" "You ask for too much," Weavel observed, "and you get nothing."
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