A Poor Wise Man
To old Anthony the early summer had been full of humiliations, which he carried
with an increased arrogance of bearing that alienated even his own special group
at his club.
"Confound the man," said Judge Peterson, holding forth on the golf links one
Sunday morning while Anthony Cardew, hectic with rage, searched for a lost ball
and refused to drop another. "He'll hold us up all morning, for that ball, just as he
tries to hold up all progress." He lowered his voice. "What's happened to the
Senator Lovell lighted a cigarette.
"Turned Bolshevist," he said, briefly.
The Judge gazed at him.
"That's a pretty serious indictment, isn't it?"
"Well, that's what I hear. She's living in Jim Doyle's house. I guess that's the
answer. Hey, Cardew! D'you want these young cubs behind us to play through,
or are you going to show some sense and come on?"
Howard, fighting his father tooth and nail, was compelled to a reluctant
admiration of his courage. But there was no cordiality between them. They were
in accord again, as to the strike, although from different angles. Both of them
knew that they were fighting for very life; both of them felt that the strikers'
demands meant the end of industry, meant that the man who risked money in a
business would eventually cease to control that business, although if losses
came it would be he, and not the workmen, who bore them. Howard had gone as
far as he could in concessions, and the result was only the demand for more.
The Cardews, father and son, stood now together, their backs against a wall, and
But only anxiety held them together.
His father was now backing Howard's campaign for the mayoralty, but he was
rather late with his support, and in private he retained his cynical attitude. He had
not come over at all until he learned that Louis Akers was an opposition
candidate. At that his wrath knew no bounds and the next day he presented a
large check to the campaign committee.