the dwelling place of ligh-第50部分

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suggestions　of　a　race…experience　not　her　own；　but　in　which　she　was　now
somehow　summoned　to　share。　　That　these　were　the　intruders　whom　she；　as　a
native　American；　had　once　resented　and　despised　did　not　occur　to　her。
The　racial　sense　so　strong　in　her　was　drowned　in　a　sense　of　fellowship。
Their　anger　seemed　to　embody　and　express；　as　nothing　else　could　have
done；　the　revolt　that　had　been　rising；　rising　within　her　soul；　and　the
babel　to　which　she　listened　was　not　a　confusion　of　tongues；　but　one　voice
lifted　up　to　proclaim　the　wrongs　of　all　the　duped；　of　all　the　exploited
and　oppressed。　　She　was　fused　with　them；　their　cause　was　her　cause；　their
betrayers　her　betrayers。

Suddenly　was　heard　the　cry　for　which　she　had　been　tensely　but
unconsciously　awaiting。　　Another　cry　like　that　had　rung　out　in　another
mob　across　the　seas　more　than　a　century　before。　　〃Ala　Bastille！〃　became
〃To　the　Chippering！〃　　Some　man　shouted　it　out　in　shrill　English；　hundreds
repeated　it；　the　Sicilian　leaped　from　the　trolley　car；　and　his　path　could
be　followed　by　the　agitated　progress　of　the　alien　banner　he　bore。　　〃To
the　Chippering！〃　　It　rang　in　Janet's　ears　like　a　call　to　battle。　　Was　she
shouting　it；　too？　　A　galvanic　thrill　ran　through　the　crowd；　an　impulse
that　turned　their　faces　and　started　their　steps　down　East　Street　toward
the　canal；　and　Janet　was　irresistibly　carried　along。　　Nay；　it　seemed　as
if　the　force　that　second　by　second　gained　momentum　was　in　her；　that　she
herself　had　released　and　was　guiding　it！　　Her　feet　were　wet　as　she
ploughed　through　the　trampled　snow；　but　she　gave　no　thought　to　that。　　The
odour　of　humanity　was　in　her　nostrils。　　On　the　left　a　gaunt　Jew　pressed
against　her；　on　the　right　a　solid　Ruthenian　woman；　one　hand　clasping　her
shawl；　the　other　holding　aloft　a　miniature　emblem　of　New　World　liberty。
Her　eyes　were　fixed　on　the　grey　skies；　and　from　time　to　time　her　lips
were　parted　in　some　strange；　ancestral　chant　that　could　be　heard　above
the　shouting。　　All　about　Janet　were　dark；　awakening　faces。。。。

It　chanced　that　an　American；　a　college　graduate；　stood　gazing　down　from　a
point　of　vantage　upon　this　scene。　　He　was　ignorant　of　anthropology；
psychology；　and　the　phenomena　of　environment；　but　bits　of　〃knowledge〃
which　he　embodied　in　a　newspaper　article　composed　that　evening　stuck　wax…
like　in　his　brain。　　Not　thus；　he　deplored；　was　the　Anglo…Saxon　wont　to
conduct　his　rebellions。　　These　Czechs　and　Slavs；　Hebrews　and　Latins　and
Huns　might　have　appropriately　been　clad　in　the　skins　worn　by　the　hordes
of　Attila。　　Had　they　not　been　drawn　hither　by　the　renown　of　the
Republic's　wealth？　　And　how　essentially　did　they　differ　from　those　other
barbarians　before　whose　bewildered；　lustful　gaze　had　risen　the　glittering
palaces　on　the　hills　of　the　Tiber？　　The　spoils　of　Rome！　　The　spoils　of
America！　　They　appeared　to　him　ferocious；　atavistic　beasts　as　they　broke
into　the　lumberyard　beneath　his　window　to　tear　the　cord…wood　from　the
piles　and　rush　out　again；　armed　with　billets。。。。

Janet；　in　the　main　stream　sweeping　irresistibly　down　the　middle　of　the
street；　was　carried　beyond　the　lumberyard　into　the　narrow　roadway　beside
the　canalpresently　to　find　herself　packed　in　the　congested　mass　in
front　of　the　bridge　that　led　to　the　gates　of　the　Chippering　Mill。　　Across
the　water；　above　the　angry　hum　of　human　voices　could　be　heard　the
whirring　of　the　looms；　rousing　the　mob　to　a　higher　pitch　of　fury。　　The
halt　was　for　a　moment　only。　　The　bridge　rocked　beneath　the　weight　of
their　charge；　they　battered　at　the　great　gates；　they　ran　along　the　snow…
filled　tracks　by　the　wall　of　the　mill。　　Some；　in　a　frenzy　of　passion；
hurled　their　logs　against　the　windows；　others　paused；　seemingly　to
measure　the　distance　and　force　of　the　stroke；　thus　lending　to　their　act　a
more　terrible　and　deliberate　significance。　　A　shout　of　triumph　announced
that　the　gates；　like　a　broken　dam；　had　given　way；　and　the　torrent　poured
in　between　the　posts；　flooding　the　yard；　pressing　up　the　towered
stairways　and　spreading　through　the　compartments　of　the　mill。　　More
ominous　than　the　tumult　seemed　the　comparative　silence　that　followed　this
absorption　of　the　angry　spirits　of　the　mob。　　Little　by　little；　as　the
power　was　shut　off；　the　antiphonal　throbbing　of　the　looms　was　stilled。
Pinioned　against　the　parapet　above　the　canalalmost　on　that　very　spot
where；　the　first　evening；　she　had　met　DitmarJanet　awaited　her　chance　to
cross。　　Every　crashing　window；　every　resounding　blow　on　the　panels　gave
her　a　fierce　throb　of　joy。　　She　had　not　expected　the　gates　to　yieldher
father　must　have　insecurely　fastened　them。　　Gaining　the　farther　side　of
the　canal；　she　perceived　him　flattened　against　the　wall　of　the　gatehouse
shaking　his　fist　in　the　faces　of　the　intruders；　who　rushed　past　him
unheeding。　　His　look　arrested　her。　　His　face　was　livid；　his　eyes　were　red
with　anger；　he　stood　transformed　by　a　passion　she　had　not　believed　him　to
possess。　　She　had　indeed　heard　him　give　vent　to　a　mitigated　indignation
against　foreigners　in　general；　but　now　the　old…school　Americanism　in
which　he　had　been　bred；　the　Americanism　of　individual　rights；　of　respect
for　the　convention　of　property；　had　suddenly　sprung　into　flame。　　He　was
ready　to　fight　for　it；　to　die　for　it。　　The　curses　he　hurled　at　these
people　sounded　blasphemous　in　Janet's　ears。

〃Father！〃　she　cried。　　〃Father！〃

He　looked　at　her　uncomprehendingly；　seemingly　failing　to　recognize　her。

〃What　are　you　doing　here？〃　he　demanded；　seizing　her　and　attempting　to
draw　her　to　the　wall　beside　him。　　But　she　resisted。　　There　sprang　from
her　lips　an　unpremeditated　question：　〃Where　is　Mr。　Ditmar？〃　　She　was；
indeed；　amazed　at　having　spoken　it。

〃I　don't　know；〃　Edward　replied　distractedly。　　〃We've　been　looking　for　him
everywhere。　　My　God；　to　think　that　this　should　happen　with　me　at　the
gates！〃　he　lamented。　　〃Go　home；　Janet。　　You　can't　tell　what'll　happen；
what　these　fiends　will　do；　you　may　get　hurt。　　You've　got　no　business
here。〃　　Catching　sight　of　a　belated　and　breathless　policeman；　he　turned
from　her　in　desperation。　　〃Get　'em　out！　　Far　God's　sake；　can't　you　get
'em　out　before　they　ruin　the　machines？〃

But　Janet　waited　no　longer。　　Pushing　her　way　frantically　through　the
people　filling　the　yard　she　climbed　the　tower　stairs　and　made　her　way
into　one　of　the　spinning　rooms。　　The　frames　were　stilled；　the　overseer
and　second　hands；　thrust　aside；　looked　on　helplessly　while　the　intruders
harangued；　cajoled　or　threatened　the　operatives；　some　of　whom　were　cowed
and　already　departing；　others；　sullen　and　resentful；　remained　standing　in
the　aisles；　and　still　others　seemed　to　have　caught　the　contagion　of　the
strike。　　Suddenly；　with　reverberating　strokes；　the　mill　bells　rang　out；
the　electric　gongs　chattered；　the　siren　screeched；　drowning　the　voices。
Janet　did　not　pause；　but　hurried　from　room　to　room　until；　in　passing
through　an　open　doorway　in　the　weaving　department　she　ran　into　Mr。
Caldwell。　　He　halted　a　moment；　in　surprise　at　finding　her　there；　calling
her　by　name。　　She　clung　to　his　sleeve；　and　again　she　asked　the　question：

〃Where's　Mr。　Ditmar？〃

Caldwell　shook　his　head。　　His　answer　was　the　same　as　Edward's。　　〃I　don't
know；〃　he　shouted　excitedly　above　the　noise。　　〃We've　got　to　get　this　mob
out　before　they　do　any　damage。〃

He　tore　himself　away；　she　saw　him　expostulating　with　the　overseer；　and
then　she　went　on。　　These　tower　stairs；　she　remembered；　led　to　a　yard
communicating　by　a　little　gate　with　the　office　entrance。　　The　door　of　the
vestibule　was　closed；　but　the　watchman；　Simmons；　recognizing　her；
permitted　her　to　enter。　　The　offices　were　deserted；　silent；　for　the　bells
and　the　siren　had　ceased　their　clamour；　the　stenographers　and　clerks　had
gone。　　The　short　day　was　drawing　to　a　close；　shadows　were　gathering　in
the　corners　of　Ditmar's　room　as　she　reached　the　threshold　and　gazed　about
her　at　the　objects　there　so　poignantly　familiar。　　She　took　off　her　coat。
His　desk　was　littered　with　books　and　papers；　and　she　started；
mechanically；　to　set　it　in　order；　replacing　the　schedule　books　on　the
shelves；　sorting　out　the　letters　and　putting　them　in　the　basket。　　She
could　not　herself　have　told　why　she　should　take　up　again　these　trivial
tasks　as　though　no　cataclysmic　events　had　intervened　to　divide　forever
the　world　of　yesterday　from　that　of　to…morrow。　　With　a　movement
suggestive　of　tenderness　she　was　picking　up　Ditmar's　pen　to　set　it　in　the
glass　rack　when　her　ear　caught　the　sound　of　voices；　and　she　stood
transfixed；　listening　intently。　　There　were　footsteps　in　the　corridor；
the　voices　came　nearer；　one；　loud　and　angered；　she　detected　above　the
others。　　It　was　Ditmar's！　　Nothing　had　happened　to　him！　　Dropping　the
pen；　she　went　over　to　the　window；　staring　out　over　the　grey　waters；
trembling　so　violently　that　she　could　scarcely　stand。

She　did　not　look　around　when　they　entered　the　room　Ditmar；　Caldwell；
Orcutt；　and　evidently　a　few　watchmen　and　overseers。　　Some　one　turned　on
the　electric　switch；　darkening　the　scene　without。　　Ditmar　continued　to
speak　in　vehement　tones　of　uncontrolled　rage。

〃Why　in　hell　weren't　those　gates　bolted　tight？〃　he　demanded。　　〃That's
what　I　want　to　know！　　There　was　plenty　of　time　after　they　turned　the
corner　of　East　Street。　　You　might　have　guessed　what　they　would　do。　　But
instead　of　that　you　let　'em　into　the　mill　to　shut　off　the　power　and
intimidate　our　own　people。〃　　He　called　the　strikers　an　unprintable　name；
and　though　Janet　stood；　with　her　back　turned；　directly　before　him；　he
gave　no　sign　of　being　aware　of　her　presence。

〃It　wasn't　the　gatekeeper's　fault；〃　she　heard　Orcutt　reply　in　a　tone
quivering　with　excitement　and　apprehension。　　〃They　really　didn't　give　us
a　chancethat's　the　truth。　　They　were　down　Canal　Street　and　over　the
bridge　before　we　knew　it。〃

〃It's　just　as　I've　said　a　hundred　times；〃　Ditmar　retorted。　　〃I　can't
afford　to　leave　this　mill　a　minute；　I　can't　trust　anybody　〃　and　he
broke　out　in　another　tirade　against　the　intruders。　　〃By　God；　I'll　fix　'em
for　thisI'll　crush　'em。　　And　if　any　operatives　try　to　walkout　here　I'll
see　that　they　starve　before　they　get　backafter　all　I've　done　for　'em；
kept　the　mill　going　in　slack　times　just　to　give　'em　work。　　If　they　deser