human
How do you do, sir? The habit of speaking to every one persisted, but the suave manner was affected, and the voice was mechanical. The old man looked up from his book--one of Professor Hyslop's volumes, and answered,
gpt
Why, hello, Tom--how are you?
human
That son of yours doesn't seem to have set the Wahoo afire with his unions in the last two or three years, does he?
gpt
Probably not.
human
The Wahoo isn't ablaze, Tom, but you know as well as I that the wage scale has been raised twice in the mines, and once in the glass factory and once in the smelter in the past three years without strikes--and that's what Grant is trying to do. More than that, every concern in the Valley now recognizes the union in conferring with the men about work conditions. That's something--that's worth all his time for three years or so, if he had done nothing else.
gpt
Well, what else has he done?
human
Well, Tom, for one thing the men are getting class conscious, and in a strike that will be a strong cement to make them stick.
gpt
Yes--the damn anarchists--class consciousness is what undermines patriotism.
human
And patriotism, replied the old man, thumbing the lapel of his coat that held his loyal legion button,
gpt
Well, Tom,--we won't quarrel over a little thing like our beloved country. Why, Lila-- the old man looked up and saw the girl,
human
Amos Adams was talking to a shy young girl--blue-eyed and brown-haired, who was walking out of the store after buying a bottle of ink of Miss Calvin. Lila spoke to the old man and would have gone with him, but for the booming voice of Mr. Brotherton, the gray-clad benedict, who looked not unlike the huge, pot-bellied gray jars which adorned
gpt
Well, look who's here--if it isn't Miss Van Dorn! And a great pleasure it is to see and know you, Miss Van Dorn.
human
Miss Van Dorn, once I had a dear friend--such a dear little friend named Lila. Perhaps you may see her sometimes? Maybe sometimes at night she comes to see you--maybe she peeps in when you are alone and asks to play. Well, say--Lila, called Mr. Brotherton as gently as a fog horn tooting a nocturne,
gpt
frolicked the elephant,
human
Mr. Brotherton heaved a prodigious sigh and waved a weary, fat hand--