Inglesby was shocked.  He hadn’t known.  He was a man of large interests and he had to leave a great deal to the discretion of superintendents and foremen.  It might be, yes, he could understand how it might very well be—­that his confidence had been abused.  He would look into these things personally hereafter.  Why, he was even now busily engaged compiling a “Book of Rules for Employees.”  He deplored the almost universal unrest among employees.  It was a very bad sign.  Very.  Due almost entirely to agitators, too.

He didn’t come out of that investigation without some of its slime sticking to him, and this annoyed and irritated and enraged him more than we guessed, for we hadn’t as yet learned the man’s ambition.  Also, the women kept following him up.  They meant to make him comply with the strict letter of the law, if that were humanly possible.

He was far too shrewd not to recognize this; for he presently called on my mother and offered her whatever aid he could reasonably give.  Her work was invaluable; his foremen and superintendents had instructions to give her any information she asked for, to show her anything in the mills she wished to see, and to report to headquarters any suggestions as to the—­er—­younger employees, she might be kind enough to make.  If that were not enough she might, he suggested, call on him personally.  Really, one couldn’t but admire the savoir faire of this large unctious being, so fluent, so plausible, until one happened to catch of a sudden that hard and ruthless gleam which, in spite of all his caution, would leap at times into his cold eyes.

“Is he, or isn’t he, a hypocrite pure and simple, or are such men self-deceived?” mused my mother, puckering her brows.  “He will do nothing, I know, that he can well avoid.  But—­he gave me of his own accord his personal check for fifty dollars, for that poor consumptive Shivers woman.”

“She contracted her disease working in his mill and living in one of his houses on the wages he paid her,” said I, “I might remind you to beware of the Greeks when they come bearing gifts.”

“Proverb for proverb,” said she.  “The hair of the dog is good for its bite.”

“Fifty dollars isn’t much for a woman’s life.”

“Fifty dollars buys considerable comfort in the shape of milk and ice and eggs.  When it’s gone—­if poor Shivers isn’t—­I shall take the Baptist minister’s wife and Miss Sally Ruth Dexter with me, and go and ask him for another check.  He’ll give it.”

“You’ll make him bitterly repent ever having succumbed to the temptation of appearing charitable,” said I.

We were not left long in doubt that Inglesby had other methods of attack less pleasant than offering checks for charity.  Its two largest advertisers simultaneously withdrew their advertisements from the Clarion.

“Let’s think this thing out,” said John Flint to Laurence.  “Cutting out ads is a bad habit.  It costs good money.  It should be nipped in the bud.  You’ve got to go after advertisers like that and make ’em see the thing in the right light.  Say, parson, what’s that thing you were saying the other day—­the thing I asked you to read over, remember?”