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here! Look here, now, Wolf! Soup or no soup – Glory hallelujah!"

      Barbara alone smiled. The crowd took up his shout, and a thousand voices made the heavens ring with its wild music.

      Norman whispered to the old man, who sat down, and Barbara swept on in her impetuous triumph without the lapse of a moment's power. She seized the instant's hush which followed the storm of cheering to fire into the minds of her hearers some of the solid shot of the revolutionary programme.

      In a voice which swelled to the clarion note of a trumpet she cried:

      "The earth for all the people! This is our demand!

      "The machinery of all production and distribution for all the people! This is our demand!

      "The collective ownership and control of all industry! This is our demand!

      "The elimination of rent, interest, and profit! This is our demand!

      "A new social order, a higher civilization, a real republic! This is our demand!

      "The end of the hell called war, of poverty and shame, of cruelty and crime, the birth of freedom, the dawn of brotherhood, the beginning of man! These are our demands! This is Socialism! Is this an idle dream? Have you no faith in your fellow man?

      "In the grim prison beyond the bay I found one day a woman convict who was little removed from a fiend. I got permission to hang a beautiful picture in her cell – a picture that set her soul to dreaming, that melted her at last to tears, and transformed the beast within her to a gentle, loving, beautiful, human character.

      "I believe in man because he alone possesses this power to look through the window of the soul into the infinite and eternal. Here the world's real battles are fought. Here the world's real work is done. Here cowards run and the brave die. This power to recreate the earth, people it with beauty, and fill it with harmony is your birthright.

      "Lo, the day of humanity dawns!

      "I preach class consciousness that we may destroy all classes. Class must perish and Man be glorified. Man, whose inhumanity to his fellow man has filled the ages with ashes and tears, is coming forth at last purified by suffering, and we shall see his tears turned to smiles upon the faces of a nobler race.

      "Why should we rejoice to-day in the death of our fellow man? Nations are but the dung-heaps out of which the fair flower of a world-democracy is slowly growing. Truth is not national, it is infinite. France may fight Germany because two titled fools insult each other, but there can be no war between the laboratories of Pasteur and of Koch. Their work is the common heritage of humanity. Who asks if Humboldt was German or English, whether Spinoza was Jew or Gentile, Darwin English or French? A German wrote 'Faust,' a Frenchman set it to immortal music, and an American girl sang it into the hearts of millions. Who cares to know nationalities? The great belong to the democracy of the world. And I swear that your children will still laugh with the soul of Cervantes in spite of the Fourth of July, Santiago, and Manila!

      "Why should you fight one another? When called to war by your rulers, let the liberty-loving spirits of the modern world say to their masters:

      "'Go and do your own killing – you who have separated us from our brothers and made the earth a slaughter-pen.'

      "If you are court-martialed and shot for this act of heroism remember:

      "'They never fail who die

      In a great cause: the block may soak their gore:

      Their heads may sodden in the sun: their limbs

      Be strung to city gates and castle walls —

      But still their spirit walks abroad. Though years

      Elapse and others share as dark a doom,

      They but augment the deep and sweeping thoughts

      Which overpower all others, and conduct

      The world at last to freedom!'"

      A shout of wild applause rent the air as the last note of Byron's immortal song fell from her beautiful lips. And then, in a low, intense voice, she closed her speech with a thrilling appeal for human brotherhood. To Norman, who hung on her lips, the slight girlish figure seemed transformed before their eyes into a radiant messenger of the spirit. And when the sweet womanly tones at last broke and choked into deep-drawn sobs, his soul and body seemed no longer his own. As her last words sank into his heart: "From to-day let each of us swear allegiance to but one flag, the deep-red emblem of human blood, God's sign of universal brotherhood!" Norman leaped to his feet, sprang on the platform, and while the crowd swayed in a frenzy of applause, hauled down the Stars and Stripes and quickly raised the big red standard of Socialism which was thrown across the speaker's table.

      And then the great crowd seemed to go mad. Wave after wave of cheering rose and fell, rose and fell, in apparently unending power. Catherine threw her arms around Barbara in a paroxysm of emotion, while the big figure of Wolf towered above them both, shouting and gesturing like a madman. Barbara at last lifted her hand and, as the storm subsided, began the Marseillaise hymn.

      The first stirring notes had just swept the audience when the stalwart figure of Colonel Worth suddenly appeared on the platform, his face a blaze of anger, his magnificent figure erect, every nerve and muscle drawn to the highest tension.

      He stepped to the edge of the stand, lifted his head, and his voice rang over the crowd like the sudden boom of a cannon:

      "Silence!"

      He didn't repeat the word.

      The singing stopped, and every eye was riveted on the group that stood on the platform.

      The Colonel confronted Wolf, and shot his words at him as though from a machine-gun.

      "Who lowered that flag?"

      A moment of silence followed. The Colonel spoke with increasing rapidity.

      "Who lowered that flag? The man who did it must answer to me!"

      Some one behind him moved, and the Colonel turned, confronting Norman.

      "I did it, Governor," was the quiet answer.

      "You?" the father gasped.

      "Yes," said the even, firm voice.

      "Haul that red rag down and raise the flag back to its place!" The Colonel's voice was low and thick with rage.

      Elena put her hand on his arm and said gently:

      "Guardie!"

      "Will you do it?" he firmly asked, ignoring Elena, and holding Norman with his gaze.

      The young man hesitated an instant, met his father's look with a deadly straight stare, and slowly replied:

      "I will not."

      A smothered cry from Barbara, half joy, half pain, was the only sound that followed, until the Colonel said:

      "Then I'll do it for you."

      Amid a dead silence he hauled down the red flag, threw it on the floor, boldly stamped on it, made fast the Stars and Stripes, and quickly raised it to the top of its staff. He turned to the crowd, and in clear-cut, sharp tones of command shouted:

      "This is my flag, my house, my lawn. Get off it! And do it quick!"

      As the crowd hastened away, he turned to Norman:

      "You and I must come to an understanding at once, young man," he said, with angry emphasis.

      "I'll meet you in the library in thirty minutes," was Norman's firm reply as he led Barbara from the platform and joined the retreating throng.

      CHAPTER VII

      FATHER AND SON

      The Colonel paced the floor of his library with increasing anger as he waited the return of Norman. Never in his life had his whole being been so abandoned to incontrollable rage. He had always been a man of fiery temper, but an iron will had held his temper in control.

      His most intimate business associates had always found him suave, persuasive, and genial in every hour of trial. Never once had they heard

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