[_As he goes out, babbling fiercely, the howls of a Roman mob are heard greeting him._]

CARTER: I don't feel no sympathy with him.

NORA: No; I should think not!

[_A more distant outbreak of the mob is heard, brief but fierce, and just a moment before it ceases_ MIFFLIN _enters, beaming. He is dressed as usual, with his umbrella and the same old magazines and newspapers under his arm._]

MIFFLIN: Everything is lovely! How do you do, Miss Gorodna! Carter, old fellow! It's a great morning, a great morning! Mr. Gibson drove me down in his car. It's wonderful to feel the inspiration it's going to be for an ex-capitalist to see this place and its harmony. My phrase for it is "harmonized industry." It will mark an epoch for him.

[GIBSON _comes in._ MIFFLIN _greets him._]

MIFFLIN: Ah, Mr. Gibson! You'll see a difference! You'll see a difference!

GIBSON: Yes, I do. Good morning, Miss Gorodna!

NORA [_just barely looking round_]: Good morning, Mr. Gibson.

MIFFLIN: I was just saying what an inspiration it's going to be for you to see what we're doing down here. [_Pats_ CARTER'S _shoulder._] These n.o.ble fellows are teaching us intellectuals a lesson. I keep going among them; what they're doing here keeps flowing into me. You'll get it, Mr.

Gibson. You'll get it, too!

[_Beamingly he goes out into the factory._]

CARTER [_cordially_]: Take a chair, Mr. Gibson. Make yourself right at home!

GIBSON: Thanks!

[_He makes a grave tour of inspection of the place, his expression noncommittal; goes about casually without making a point of it; he writes his initials in the dust on a filing case. He turns and looks at_ NORA _thoughtfully; she has not seemed to notice him._]

Do you think I will, Miss Gorodna?

NORA [_not looking up_]: Do I think you will what?

GIBSON: That I'll get what Mifflin meant? That it will be an inspiration to me to see this meeting?

NORA: I don't know what will be an inspiration to you.

GIBSON: I know one thing that is--a brave woman!

[_The only sign she gives is that her head bends over her work just a little more._]

Carter, do you think this meeting is going to be an inspiration to me?

CARTER: Well, Mr. Gibson, since the time you give up our rights to us, as Mr. Mifflin says, we're an inspiration to the whole world. All the time! Yes, sir; and we _would_ be, too, if we could jest git these dog-goned inequalities straightened out. We got this Frankel trouble on our hands, and them wives, and one thing and another, though they ain't botherin' me so much as my own rights. But they're goin' to git brought up in the meeting. You'll see!

GIBSON: Is the safe usually kept open?

CARTER [_heartily_]: Why, yes, sir; open to each and all alike.

GIBSON: Oh, yes, of course! Seems to be some business mail left over here.

CARTER: Oh, yes. But you'll find every one of 'em's been opened; we never miss opening a letter. You see they's checks in some of 'em.

GIBSON: I see. Then everything is running right along, is it, Carter?

CARTER: Oh, sure! Right along, right along!

[_The uproar breaks out again._ FRANKEL _bursts in, wiping his forehead as before. He hurries to the water filter for more water._]

FRANKEL: By golly! The bloodsuckers! They want my life! They don't get it! h.e.l.lo, Mr. Gibson! Well, I am pleased to see you! Say, Mr. Gibson, lemme say something to you. Look here a minute. [_He draws_ GIBSON _aside._]

GIBSON: What is it, Frankel?

FRANKEL [_hastily, in a low voice_]: Mr. Gibson, keep it under your hat, but I got a pretty good interest in this factory right now. What date I'm goin' to own it I won't say. But what I want to put up to you: How much would you ask me to manage it for me?

GIBSON: What?

FRANKEL: I wouldn't be no piker; when it comes to your salary you could pretty near set it yourself.

GIBSON: I'm afraid I've already had an offer that would keep me from accepting, Frankel.

FRANKEL: When the time comes I'll git a manager somewhere; no place like this can't run itself; I seen that much.

GIBSON: Even if I didn't have an offer, Frankel, I doubt if I'd accept yours. You know I used to have some little trouble here.

FRANKEL: You got my sympathy now! I got troubles myself here. [_Hastily drinks another gla.s.s of water._] Well, where's that meeting? They're late, ain't they?

CARTER: If they are it's your fault. Them wops of yours won't hardly let a body git by out yonder.

[SALVATORE _and_ s...o...b..RG _come in from the factory_, SALVATORE _pausing in the doorway to shout in the direction of an audible disturbance in the distance._]

SALVATORE: Oh, shut up; you'll git your pay!

[_Following_ SALVATORE _come_ SIMPSON _and his wife and_ RILEY. _They all speak rather casually but not uncordially to_ GIBSON. MIFFLIN _is with them, his hand on_ SIMPSON'S _shoulder. The outbreak outside subsides in favour of a speech of extreme violence in a foreign language. Italian, Yiddish, or whatever it is, it seems most pa.s.sionate, and by a good orator. It continues to be heard as the members of the committee take their seats at the big table._ MIFFLIN _beams and nods at_ GIBSON; _and takes his seat with the committee._]

s...o...b..RG [_hotly, to_ MRS. SIMPSON]: Here, you ain't a member of this committee! Git her chair away from her there, Salvatore! She's got no right here!

MRS. SIMPSON: Oh, I haven't?

s...o...b..RG: Already twice this morning I got h.e.l.l from my own wife the way this woman treats her tryin' to chase her out the factory. You think you're on this committee?

MRS. SIMPSON [_taking a chair triumphantly_]: My husband is. I was here last time, and I'm goin' to keep on.

CARTER [_referring to the speech in the factory_]: My goodness! We can't do no work.

RILEY: Frankel, that's your business to shut 'em up.

FRANKEL: Talkin' ain't doin' no harm. Let 'em talk.

RILEY: Yes, I will! [_Goes to the door, and roars_]: Cut that out! I mean business! [_Shuts the door and returns angrily to his seat._]