He began to walk down the street, talking more to
himself than to Jimmie. He was borne away on
the wings of his vision; and his companion was so
thrilled that he honestly did not know where he was.
Afterwards, when he looked back upon this scene, it
remained the most wonderful event of his life; he
told the story, sooner or later, to every Socialist
he met.
Presently the Candidate stopped. “Comrade,”
he said, “I must go to the hotel. I want
to write some telegrams. You explain to the Committee—I’d
rather not see anyone till time for the meeting.
I’ll find the way myself.”
JIMMIE HIGGINS HEARS A SPEECH
In the Opera-house were gathered Comrade Mabel Smith
and Comrade Meissner and Comrade Goldstein, the secretary
of the Ypsels, and the three members of the Reception
Committee—Comrade Norwood, the rising young
lawyer, Comrade Dr. Service, and Comrade Schultze of
the Carpet-weavers’ Union. To them rushed
the breathless Jimmie. “Have you heard
the news?”
“What is it?”.
“A hundred Socialist leaders shot in Germany!”
“Herr Gott!” cried Comrade Schultze, in
horror; and everyone turned instinctively, for they
knew how this came home to him—he had a
brother who was a Socialist editor in Leipzig, and
who was liable for the mobilization.
“Where did you see it?” cried Schultze;
and Jimmie told what he knew. And then the clamour
broke forth! Others were called from the back
part of the hall, and came running, and there were
questions and cries of dismay. Here, too, it
was as if the crime had been committed against Local
Leesville—so completely did they feel themselves
one with the victims. In a town where there was
a brewery, needless to say there were German workers
a-plenty; but even had this not been so, the feeling
would have been the same, for the Socialists of the
world were one, the soul of the movement was its internationalism.
The Candidate discovering that Jimmie was a Socialist
had asked and received no further introduction, but
had been instantly his friend; and so it would have
been with a comrade from Germany, Japan, or the heart
of Africa—he might not have known another
word of English, the word “Socialist” would
have sufficed.
It was a long time before they thought of any other
matter; but finally someone referred to the trouble
which had fallen upon the local—the Candidate
had not showed up. And Jimmie exclaimed, “Why,
he’s here!” And instantly all turned upon
him. Where? When? How?
“He came this morning.”
“And why didn’t you let us know?”
It was Comrade Dr. Service of the Reception Committee
who spoke, and with a decided sharpness in his tone.
“He didn’t want anybody to know,”
said Jimmie.
“Did he want us to go to the train and think
he had failed us?”
