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died. A living wage means that life shall go on, Mr. Teeftallow, that it shall grow larger and better, not less and worse."

At the time Shallburger made this argument, it seemed the veriest nonsense to Abner; men striking to-day so there would be more and better labourers twenty years from now—fantastic.

But it was Nessie Sutton who eventually vitalized the organizer's theory. After the youth's first accidental meeting with the girl, he now saw Nessie briefly every day. Every afternoon at six o'clock he glimpsed her as she passed across the piazza of the Scovell House.

Abner ate his own supper at five, along with the other labourers, but instead of going immediately to the garage, Abner loitered in the porch swing of the hotel until six, when Nessie returned from her work uptown.

For a number of days he had confined his remarks to a mere "Good-evenin'" as she passed in to supper, which she ate with the Scovell family after the men boarders were finished. When she had entered the dark hallway, Abner would get out of the swing, look after her as she disappeared inside; then, filled with a queer faint pain, he would take himself off to the garage.

For a number of days he spent an hour regularly for this rather unhappy glimpse of her. Then one afternoon she quite startled him by pausing in the doorway, turning to look out at the dilapidated village which lay in the yellowing light, and saying that she was so tired she didn't want any supper.

This sudden chance to begin one of the many conversations he had planned startled the youth.

"Are you sick?" he asked in an anxious tone.

"My back hurts—I stoop over all day sewing."

"What do you sew?" asked Abner, following his frail clue eagerly.

"Hats. I'm Mr. Baxter's milliner." She hesitated, then added to assist this self-conscious conversation, "I'm getting ready for our fall opening." She drew a long breath,