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"No," said T-S, "I ain't vun o' dese litry fellers." But he realized that the story was not complimentary to him, and he showed his chagrin. "I tell you vun ting, Mr. Carpenter, if you vas to know me better, you vouldn't call me a devil." And suddenly the other put his hand on the great man's shoulder.
T-S would have done better to take the money and give it to the poor. But the prophet answered: "Let this woman alone. She has done a good thing. The poor you have always with you, but me you have only for a short time. This woman has helped to make our feast happy, and men will tell about it in future years." But that did not satisfy the ascetic James, who retired to his corner grumbling.
"I'll pay!" "Thank you," said the other; and he turned to an official of the union with whom he had got acquainted in the course of the morning. He introduced us all, not forgetting the secretary, and then said: "Mr. T-S is the moving picture producer, and wants to have lunch with you, if you will consent." "Oh, sure!" said the official, cordially. "He will pay for it," added Carpenter.
My friend T-S, the king of the movies, with all his resources, could not have made a more complete picture of human misery nor one more fitted to work on the sensitive soul of a prophet, and persuade him that capitalist America was worse than imperial Rome. The arrival of Carpenter attracted no particular attention.
He picked up a bit of bread, and began to nibble it, and T-S went to work again. There was another five minutes of silence; and then the picture magnate stopped, with a look of horror on his face. "My Gawd! He's cryin'!" Sure enough, there were two large tears trickling, one down each cheek of the stranger, and dropping on the bread he was putting into his mouth! "Look here, Mr.
Somehow word had been got to all the little group of agitators of various shades. There was Korwsky, the secretary of the tailors' union whose first name I learned was Luka; also his fellow Russian, the express-driver, Simon Karlin, and Tom Moneta, the young Mexican cigar-maker. There was Matthew Everett, free to be a guest on this occasion, because T-S had brought along another stenographer.
"I believe that, my friend; I hate the sin but love the sinner And so, suppose you come to lunch with me?" "Lunch?" said T-S, taken aback. "I went to dinner with you last night. Now you come to lunch with me." "Vere at, Mr. Carpenter?" Said Carpenter: "When I went with you, I did not ask where." Carpenter signed to me and to Everett, the secretary, and the four of us went out of the room.
Soon after the noon-hour, there pushed his way into the crowd a young man, whom I recognized as one of the secretaries of T-S. He was looking for me, and told me in a whisper that his employer was downstairs in his car, and wanted to see Mr. Carpenter and myself about something important. He did not want to come up, because it was too conspicuous. Would we come down and take a little drive?
T-S, who was waddling about, perfectly happy in the kitchen doing the things she would have done all the time, if her husband's social position had not required her to keep a dozen servants. Also, I noted to my great astonishment that Mary Magna, instead of taking a place at the prophet's right hand, according to the prerogative of queens, had put on a plain apron and was helping "Maw" and Mrs.
"Please take this," he said, and pressed the roll of bills back into the hands of the astounded magnate! However, T-S had come there to get something that day, and I thought I knew what it was. He swallowed his consternation, and all the rest of his emotions. "Now, now, Mr. Carpenter! Ve ain't a-goin' to quarrel about a ting like dat.
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