headquarters of the Socialist party. She had done her work with such marked efficiency that the committee had kept her on as their secretary and as one of the promoters of their cause. They valued her services highly. The headquarters were closed on Saturday afternoons, and undoubtedly she would be at home. She was at home. When she opened her door in response to Lamar's knock she was somewhat taken aback to see the labor-leader standing on her porch in company with a well-dressed young woman.
"I do not," he said as they entered the house, "know the lady's name nor her errand. I found her on the street, inquiring her way here. I came, myself, to see you about the notices for the Sunday afternoon meeting. There's been a mistake. I'll talk with you about it when your other visitor has gone. In the meantime I'll step into the kitchen and have a little visit with your mother."
"It's not necessary for you to leave the room," interrupted Ruth; "I simply came to make a social call on Mrs. Bradley. I'm Ruth Tracy, and I've heard of Mrs. Bradley through Mr. Farrar, the rector of Christ Church."
The other woman's face flushed at the mention of the rector's name, but she gave no further sign of approval or disapproval of the errand of her guest. She placed a chair for Ruth, and motioned Lamar to a seat across the room. He thanked her, and made no further attempt to withdraw. He was glad to remain. He wanted to know the real purpose of Miss Tracy's visit. He wanted to be able to checkmate any move which might be made toward influencing Mrs. Bradley to identify herself in any way with the Church. He feared that if she should look with favor on organized religion, she would, sooner or later, be lost to the cause of the workingmen, to the cause of socialism, and especially lost to him, Stephen Lamar. So he sat quietly and listened.
