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Abner became more and more disconcerted; he cleared his throat and wet his lips.

"Er—hadn't you heard about me?" He hesitated, although he knew that Shallburger had not heard of his good fortune. The organizer never talked of anything except the wrongs of the working men. "I inherited a lot of farms from my gran'-daddy."

The foreigner's face lighted up. "Fine! Magnificent! You can be an example; a beacon on a high hill!"

"How?" asked Abner, mystified.

"By throwing your influence on the side of labour, by fighting the battles of the working men!"

"But look here," persisted Abner, thinking the fellow must not have understood, "I tell you I ain't a workin' man any more. I'm well fixed, Mr. Shallburger."

The organizer stared at him in turn. "What difference does that make?"

Abner was more confounded. "What dif'runce! Why, my Lord, man, it's jest like quittin' one job an' workin' at another. I'm on the side of money now 'cause I got money!"

"Does your money change the human right of life?" demanded Shallburger in amazement. "Is it a reason why the children of these poor crackers around here should grow up in poverty, ignorance, and crime?"

"You're damn whistlin' it is!" cried Abner, answering the spirit and not the letter of the question. "To git a man to work fer you is jest a trade, that's all. When I work fer somebody I want the highest price, nachelly, but when I har somebody I want to pay the lowest price. That's plain common sense. If a man don't do that he'll bust hisse'f."

"Would you turn traitor to the cause of humanity for money?" shouted Shallburger. "You're not worthy the name of—"

"You damn fool!" yelled Abner. "When a man's a workin' man, then workin' is his side, but when he's got money, then money's his side. If I've got a pocket full of