"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.
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