第13章 IV A WALKING DELEGATE LEARNS A NEW STEP(3)

Crimmins crushed his slouch-hat in his hand, and slunk into a chair by the window. Tom remained standing.

"I see ye like flowers, Mrs. Grogan," he began, in his gentlest voice. "Them geraniums is the finest I iver see"--peering under the leaves of the plants. "Guess it's 'cause ye water 'em so much."

Tom made no reply.

Crimmins fidgeted on his chair a little, and tried another tack.

"I s'pose ye ain't doin' much just now, weather's so bad. The road's awful goin' down to the fort."

Tom's hands were in the side pockets of her ulster. Her face was aglow with her brisk walk from the tenements. She never took her eyes from his face, and never moved a muscle of her body. She was slowly revolving in her mind whether any information she could get out of him would be worth the waiting for.

Crimmins relapsed into silence, and began patting the floor with his foot. The prolonged stillness was becoming uncomfortable.

"I was tellin' ye about the meetin' we had to the Union last night. We was goin' over the list of members, an' we didn't find yer name. The board thought maybe ye'd like to come in wid us.

The dues is only two dollars a month. We're a-regulatin' the prices for next year, stevedorin' an' haulin', an' the rates'll be sent out next week." The stopper was now out of the oil-bottle.

"How many members have ye got?" she asked quietly.

"Hundred an' seventy-three in our branch of the Knights."

"All pay two dollars a month?"

"That's about the size of it," said Crimmins.

"What do we git when we jine?"

"Well, we all pull together--that's one thing. One man's strike's every man's strike. The capitalists been tryin' to down us, an' the laborin'-man's got to stand together. Did ye hear about the Fertilizer Company's layin' off two of our men las' Friday just fer bein' off a day or so without leave, and their gittin' a couple of scabs from Hoboken to"--"What else do we git?" said Tom, in a quick, imperious tone, ignoring the digression. She had moved a step closer.

Crimmins looked slyly up into her eyes. Until this moment he had been addressing his remarks to the brass ornament on the extreme top of the cast-iron stove. Tom's expression of face did not reassure him; in fact, the steady gaze of her clear gray eye was as uncomfortable as the focused light of a sun lens.

"Well--we help each other," he blurted out.

"Do you do any helpin'?"

"Yis;" stiffening a little. "I'm the walkin' delegate of our branch."

"Oh, ye're the walkin' delegate! You don't pay no two dollars, then, do ye!"

"No. There's got to be somebody a-goin' round all the time, an'

Dinnis Quigg and me's confidential agents of the branch, an' what we says goes"--slapping his overalls decisively with his fist.

McGaw's suggested stopper was being loosened on the vinegar.

Tom's fingers closed tightly. Her collar began to feel small.

"An' I s'pose if ye said I should pay me men double wages, and put up the price o' haulin' so high that me customers couldn't pay it, so that some of yer dirty loafers could cut in an' git it, I'd have to do it, whether I wanted to or not; or maybe ye think I'd oughter chuck some o' me own boys into the road because they don't belong to yer branch, as ye call it, and git a lot o' dead beats to work in their places who don't know a horse from a coal-bucket.

An' ye'll help me, will ye? Come out here on the front porch, Mr. Crimmins"--opening the door with a jerk. "Do ye see that stable over there! Well, it covers seven horses; an' the shed has six carts with all the harness. Back of it--perhaps if ye stand on yer toes even a little feller like you can see the top of another shed. That one has me derricks an' tools."

Crimmins tried to interrupt long enough to free McGaw's red pepper, but her words poured out in a torrent.

"Now ye can go back an' tell Dan McGaw an' the balance of yer two-dollar loafers that there ain't a dollar owin' on any horse in my stable, an' that I've earned everything I've got without a man round to help 'cept those I pays wages to. An' ye can tell 'em, too, that I'll hire who I please, an' pay 'em what they oughter git; an' I'll do me own haulin' an' unloadin' fer nothin' if it suits me. When ye said ye were a walkin' delegate ye spoke God's truth. Ye'd be a ridin' delegate if ye could; but there's one thing ye'll niver be, an' that's a workin' delegate, as long as ye kin find fools to pay ye wages fer bummin' round day 'n' night.

If I had me way, ye would walk, but it would be on yer uppers, wid yer bare feet to the road."

Crimmins again attempted to speak, but she raised her arm threateningly: "Now, if it's walkin' ye are, ye can begin right away. Let me see ye earn yer wages down that garden an' into the road. Come, lively now, before I disgrace meself a-layin' hands on the likes of ye!"