§ 14
The respectable newspapers of American City of
course did not waste their space upon fantastic accusations
brought by radicals, charging the police authorities with
using torture upon witnesses. But there was a Socialist paper published
every week in American City, and this paper had a long account of
Peter's experiences on the front page, together with his picture. Also
there were three labor papers which carried the story, and the Goober
Defense Committee prepared a circular about it and mailed out thousands
of copies all over the country. This circular was written by Donald
Gordon, the Quaker boy. He brought Peter a proof of it, to make sure
that he had got all the details right, and Peter read it, and really
could not help being thrilled to discover what a hero he was. Peter had
not said anything about his early career, and whoever among the Goober
Defense Committee had learned those details chose to be diplomatically
silent. Peter smiled to himself as he thought about that. They were
foxy, these people! They were playing their hand for all it was
worth — and Peter admired them for that. In Donald Gordon's narrative
Peter appeared as a poor workingman; and Peter grinned. He was used to
the word "working," but when he talked about "working people," he meant
something different from what these Socialists meant.
The story went out, and of course all sorts of people wanted to
meet Peter, and came to the home of the Todd girls. So Peter settled
down to his job of finding out all he could about these visitors, their
names and occupations, their relations to the radical movement. Guffey
had advised him not to make notes, for fear of detection, but Peter
could not carry all this in his head, so he would retire to his room and
make minute notes on slips of paper, and carefully sew these up in the
lining of his coat, with a thrill of mystery.
Except for this note-taking, however, Peter's sleuthing was easy
work, for these people all seemed eager to talk about what they were
doing; sometimes it frightened Peter — they were so open and defiant! Not
merely did they express their ideas to one another and to him, they were
expressing them on public platforms, and in their publications, in
pamphlets and in leaflets — what they called "literature." Peter had had
no idea their "movement" was so widespread or so powerful. He had
expected to unearth a secret conspiracy, and perhaps a dynamite-bomb or
two; instead of which, apparently, he was unearthing a volcano!
However, Peter did the best he could. He got the names and
details about some forty or fifty people of all classes; obscure
workingmen and women, Jewish tailors, Russian and Italian cigar-workers,
American-born machinists and printers; also some "parlor Reds" — large,
immaculate and shining ladies who came rolling up to the little bungalow
in large, immaculate and shining automobiles, and left their uniformed
chauffeurs outside for hours at a time while they listened to Peter's
story of his "third degree." One benevolent lady with a flowing gray
veil, who wafted a sweet perfume about the room, suggested that Peter
might be in need, and pressed a twenty dollar bill into his hand. Peter,
thrilled, but also bewildered, got a new sense of the wonders of this
thing called "the movement," and decided that when Guffey got thru with
him he might turn into a "Red" in earnest for a while.
Meantime he settled down to make himself comfortable with the
Todd sisters. Sadie went off to her work before eight o'clock every
morning, and that was before Peter got up; but Jennie stayed at home,
and fixed his breakfast,
and opened the door for his visitors, and in general played the hostess
for him. She was a confirmed invalid; twice a week she went off to a
doctor to have something done to her spine, and the balance of the time
she was supposed to be resting, but Peter very seldom saw her doing
this. She was always addressing circulars, or writing letters for the
"cause," or going off to sell literature and take up collections at
meetings. When she was not so employed, she was arguing with
somebody — frequently with Peter — trying to make him think as she did.
Poor kid, she was all wrought up over the notions she had got
about the wrongs of the working classes. She gave herself no peace about
it, day or night, and this, of course, was a bore to Peter, who wanted
peace above all things. Over in Europe millions of men were organized in
armies, engaged in slaughtering one another. That, of course, was, very
terrible, but what was the good of thinking about it? There was no way
to stop it, and it certainly wasn't Peter's fault. But this poor,
deluded child was acting all the time as if she were to blame for this
European conflict, and had the job of bringing it to a close. The tears
would come into her deep-set grey eyes, and her soft chin would quiver
with pain whenever she talked about it; and it seemed to Peter she was
talking about it all the time. It was her idea that the war must be
stopped by uprisings on the part of the working people in Europe.
Apparently she thought this might be hastened if the working people of
American City would rise up and set an example!
