The citizen., 1914-09-11
CHAPTER VI.
The System at Work.

The System at Work.
John Brand was the incarnation OF
twentieth century prosperity; scrupu-
lously, almost imposingly clean; i'm
maculately groomed. Physically he
would have passed muster anywhere.
He was only thirty-fve years old. yet
he had the bulk that suggested not
alone avoirdupois, but substantially
and maturity of mind His keen gray
eyes, the firm, decisive lines of his
race, the poise and calm assuredneBs
of movement, bespoke strength; abso-
lutte control of self and mastery of
Others Inherent shrewdness was
veiled behind a mask OF genial good
Fellowship and frankness of speech.
He was the type that any man con-
ducting great enterprises would have
welcomed as a colleague and feared as
a rival. John Brand spelled success.
He had sought it, encompassed 1t end
corralled it. The doctrine of the sur
vival of the fittest, he held sacred. 1t
was his casus belli and his Bible.
He apotheosized himself and his kind
and actually believed the world was
better off for the breed. Modern
methods of manipulation and chican-
cry he looked upon, not as an impedi.
ment, but as an accelerating spur to
progress. Failure was the only sin
he knew.
He looked quizzically now at the
cheap cigar his host had given him
and then around at the modest fur.
nishings of the room
You haven't been very prosperous
since you left SCHOOL," he asked. 81
had the idea that you had money up
there"
Bob's cheeks burned. 1t seemed to
him that Brands address was not only
businesslike. but unnecessarily blunt.
But he answered coolly enough:
mo, you see, an old aunt of mine
took care of my education. About the
time | graduated she died I've been
working pretty hard trying to get
along the best l could I've married
and bought this little home, but it's
hard to keep it up"
The millionaire's answer to this
statement was brutally sententious.
Guess you can't be much of bust.
ness man. he said. "At least, buying
this kind of house the way you
have isn't good business. heard
fellow say one time that every install.
ment you pay on your home or furni.
ture is like putting nail in the coffin
of your hope, and l guess he wasn't
far wrong. Not bad, eh?H
mo, not for millionaires; not for
those who have got the price, but it's
fiippant foolery for those who haven't
it. know that l am paying more for
this place than it's worth and that I'm
helping some capitalist to put the
screws down tighter. But it's the sys-
tenn that's wrong, Brand, not me.
want piece Of the earth to which /
am entitled. / want to feel that there
is something under my feet besides
the pavement that your stock watered
cement company built. Your cement
will crumble up and blow away, but
this half-acre of ground will be here
for me and for my children. Why,
any man who is worth anything in our
social order of things has this longing
for the soil. Everyone knows it; you
know it. That's why you bought stock
in the Utopian Land company. We're
trimmed OF course we are. We pipe
and you sing, but how are we going
to help it?"
The millionaire laughed I've heard
that before he answered. Seems to
me your friend Meade has made a
convert But wait"-he held up his
hand to stop Reynolds reply. You
asked me how you can help it. I'm
going to tell you. You recollect that
you were pretty good friend of mine
at school. Worked your heart and soul
out trying to get me on the varsity
eight and the eleven.
"Yes, and you didn't make them"
There's that wonderful memory
again. But, never mind One good
turn deserves another and I'm here
for that purpose. am business
man and l handle things from that
standpoint"
To BE CONTINUEDJ