"There's nothing to be afraid of, or ashamed of, I hope," Ernest challenged.
"I guess we know our business best," was the retort.
"It's a dark business, from the way you hide it," Ernest said with growing anger.
"We've paid for our experience in sweat and blood, and we've earned all that's coming to us," was the reply. "Charity begins at home."
"If you're afraid to tell me your way out, I'll tell it to you." Ernest's blood was up. "You're going in for grab-sharing. You've made terms with the enemy, that's what you've done. You've sold out the cause of labor, of all labor. You are leaving the battle-field like cowards."
"I'm not saying anything," O'Connor answered sullenly. "Only I guess we know what's best for us a little bit better than you do."
"And you don't care a cent for what is best for the rest of labor. You kick it into the ditch."
"I'm not saying anything," O'Connor replied, "except that I'm president of the Machinists' Association, and it's my business to consider the interests of the men I represent, that's all."
And then, when the labor leaders had left, Ernest, with the calmness of defeat, outlined to me the course of events to come.
"The socialists used to foretell with joy," he said,
