And people of our class owe it to society to take part in politics.Victor Dorn is a crank, but he's right about some things--and he's right in saying that we of the upper class are parasites upon the masses.They earn all the wealth, and we take a large part of it away from them.And it's plain stealing unless we give some service in return.For instance, you and I--what have we done, what are we doing that entitles us to draw so much? Somebody must earn by hard labor all that is produced.
We are not earning.So''--he was looking handsome now in his manly earnestness--``Jen, it's up to us to do our share--to stop stealing--isn't it?''
She was genuinely interested.``I hadn't thought of these things,'' said she.
``Victor Dorn says we ought to go to work like laborers,''
pursued David.``But that's where he's a crank.The truth is, we ought to give the service of leadership--especially in politics.And I'm going to do it, Jane Hastings!''
For the first time she had an interest in him other than that of conquest.``Just what are you going to do?'' she asked.
``Not upset everything and tear everything to pieces, as Victor Dorn wants to do,'' replied he.``But reform the abuses and wrongs--make it so that every one shall have a fair chance--make politics straight and honest.''
This sounded hazy to her.``And what will you get out of it?''
asked she.
He colored and was a little uneasy as he thus faced a direct demand for his innermost secret--the secret of selfishness he tried to hide even from himself.But there was no evading; if he would interest her he must show her the practical advantages of his proposal.``If I'm to do any good,'' said he, putting the best face, and really not a bad face, upon a difficult and delicate matter--``if I'm to do any good I must win a commanding position--must get to be a popular leader--must hold high offices--and--and--all that.''
``I understand,'' said she.``That sounds attractive.Yes, David, you ought to make a career.If I were a man that's the career I'd choose.''
``You can choose it, though you're a woman,'' rejoined he.
``Marry me, and we'll go up together.You've no idea how exciting campaigns and elections are.A little while, and you'll be crazy about it all.The women are taking part, more and more.''
``Who's Victor Dorn?'' she suddenly asked.
``You must remember him.It was his father that was killed by the railway the day we all went on that excursion to Indianapolis.''
``Dorn the carpenter,'' said Jane.``Yes--I remember.'' Her face grew dreamy with the effort of memory.``I see it all again.And there was a boy with a very white face who knelt and held his head.''
``That was Victor,'' said Hull.
``Yes--I remember him.He was a bad boy--always fighting and robbing orchards and getting kept after school.''
``And he's still a bad boy--but in a different way.He's out against everything civilized and everybody that's got money.''
``What does he do? Keep a saloon?''
``No, but he spends a lot of time at them.I must say for him that he doesn't drink--and professes not to believe in drink.
When I pointed out to him what a bad example he set, loafing round saloons, he laughed at me and said he was spending his spare time exactly as Jesus Christ did.`You'll find, Davy, old man,' he said, `if you'll take the trouble to read your Bible, that Jesus traveled with publicans and sinners--and a publican is in plain English a saloonkeeper.' ''
``That was very original--wasn't it?'' said Jane.``I'm interested in this man.He's--different.I like people who are different.''
``I don't think you'd like him, Victor Dorn,'' said David.
``Don't you?''
``Oh, yes--in a way.I admire him,'' graciously.``He's really a remarkable fellow, considering his opportunities.''
``He calls you `Davy, old man,' '' suggested Jane.
Hull flushed.``That's his way.He's free and easy with every one.He thinks conventionality is a joke.''
``And it is,'' cried Miss Hastings.
``You'd not think so,'' laughed Hull, ``if he called you Jane or Jenny or my dear Jenny half an hour after he met you.''
``He wouldn't,'' said Miss Hastings in a peculiar tone.
``He would if he felt like it,'' replied Hull.``And if you resented it, he'd laugh at you and walk away.I suspect him of being a good deal of a poseur and a fakir.All those revolutionary chaps are.But I honestly think that he really doesn't care a rap for classes --or for money--or for any of the substantial things.''
``He sounds common,'' said Miss Hastings.``I've lost interest in him.'' Then in the same breath: ``How does he live? Is he a carpenter?''
``He was--for several years.You see, he and his mother together brought up the Dorn family after the father was killed.They didn't get a cent of damages from the railroad.It was an outrage----''
``But my father was the largest owner of the railroad.''
Hull colored violently.``You don't understand about business, Jen.The railroad is a corporation.It fought the case--and the Dorns had no money--and the railway owned the judge and bribed several jurors at each trial.Dorn says that was what started him to thinking --to being a revolutionist--though he doesn't call himself that.''
``I should think it would!'' cried Miss Hastings.``If my father had known----'' She caught her breath.``But he MUST have known! He was on the train that day.''
``You don't understand business, Jen.Your father wouldn't interfere with the management of the corporation.''
``He makes money out of it--doesn't he?''
``So do we all get money out of corporations that are compelled to do all sorts of queer things.But we can't abolish the system--we've got to reform it.That's why I'm in politics--and want you----''
``Something must be done about that,'' interrupted Jane.``Ishall talk to father----''
``For heaven's sake, Jen,'' cried David in alarm, ``don't tell your father I'VE been stirring you up.He's one of the powers in politics in this State, and----''
