“But if he really means to stand out.” she said, “wouldn’t it hurt us for you to go around there?”

“Why?” He was openly smiling now.  Then, of a sudden, he looked at her with a shrewd, close gaze, and repeated, “Why?”

“Maybe I don’t understand it,” she said nervously.  “Max doesn’t think I see things very clearly.  But I thought perhaps you would be willing for me to see him this evening.  I could go with Max, and—­”

She faltered, when she saw how closely he was watching her, but he nodded, and said, “Go on.”

“Why, I don’t know that I could do much, but—­no”—­she tossed her head back and looked at him—­“I won’t say that.  If you’ll let me go, I’ll fix it.  I know I can.”

Bannon was thinking partly of her—­of her slight, graceful figure that leaned against the window frame, and of her eyes, usually quiet, but now snapping with determination—­and partly of certain other jobs that had been imperiled by the efforts of injured workingmen to get heavy damages.  One of the things his experience in railroad and engineering work had taught him was that men will take every opportunity to bleed a corporation.  No matter how slight the accident, or how temporary in its effects, the stupidest workman has it in his power to make trouble.  It was frankly not a matter of sentiment to Bannon.  He would do all that he could, would gladly make the man’s sickness actually profit him, so far as money would go; but he did not see justice in the great sums which the average jury will grant.  As he sat there, he recognized what Hilda had seen at a flash, that this was a case for delicate handling.

She was looking at him, tremendously in earnest, yet all the while wondering at her own boldness.  He slowly nodded.

“You’re right,” he said.  “You’re the one to do the talking.  I won’t ask you what you’re going to say.  I guess you understand it as well as anybody.”

“I don’t know yet, myself,” she answered.  “It isn’t that, it isn’t that there’s something particular to say, but he’s a poor man, and they’ve been telling him that the company is cheating him and stealing from him—­I wouldn’t like it myself, if I were in his place and didn’t know any more than he does.  And maybe I can show him that we’ll be a good deal fairer to him before we get through than Mr. Grady will.”

“Yes,” said Bannon, “I think you can.  And if you can keep this out of the courts I’ll write Brown that there’s a young lady down here that’s come nearer to earning a big salary than I ever did to deserving a silk hat.”

“Oh,” she said, the earnest expression skipping abruptly out of her eyes; “did your hat come?”

“Not a sign of it.  I’d clean forgotten.  I’ll give Brown one more warning—­ a long ‘collect’ telegram, about forty words—­and then if he doesn’t toe up, I’ll get one and send him the bill.

“There was a man that looked some like Grady worked for me on the Galveston house.  He was a carpenter, and thought he stood for the whole Federation of Labor.  He got gay one day.  I warned him once, and then I threw him off the distributing floor.”