The Nine-Tenths

g firemen, gave one look at the ghastly heap on the sidewalk, and then became, like the host of raving relatives and friends and lovers, a man insane. It was as if

nature, like a Nero, using humanity to make a sublime torch in the night. And through his head pulsed and pulsed the defiant throb of the engines. Cinders fell, s

e!" cried a bu

ted his s

s my loft burning. I'm

snapped the policeman. "A

he fact that he had lost his head. He pulled himself together; he told himself that he, a human being, was greater than

d to her a face of death, but she

e!

revelation of his changed life. "I may never see you again. I belong

ond her; there wa

," she m

reeled back, and wa

t brain refused any new emotions. So stupendous was the catastrophe that it left him finally calm, ready, and eagerly awake.

t Eddie Baker, Morty, and Sam Bender.... It was

arm about th

ny ... Go home to

a steamy blackness lit by the search-light of the engine. There was still the insistent throbbing. And then he thought of his mother and her fears, and sped swiftly up the street, over deserted Lexington Avenue, and up

ame into the hall as he entered, but he shunned th

her's out

tur

How

... She's been back and

the bureau mirror, and began to pace up and down. His mother was sea

ming furies through the city streets, flinging handfuls of their fire into a million homes, shaking New York into a realization of

asy-going, he was in business for profits. Had such a man any right to be placed over others, to be given the power over other lives? The guilt was his; the blame fell on him. He should have kept clean house; he should ha

himself, his living alone, his ignorance of the fact that his life was tangled in with the lives of all huma

had made property his treasure instead of human beings. That was the crime. And so these dead lay all about him as if he had murdered them with his hands. It was his being an average man that had killed sixty-three girls and men. And what had he been after? Money?

g in the world silence that sound? The cold sweat came out on his

was tall, straight, spirited, and under the neat glossy-white hair was a noble face, somewhat long, somewhat slim, a little pallid, but with firm chin and large forehead and living la

broke. "I've been

came terrible in its hungry love, its mother passion. She met his eyes, and then he fle

e was murmuring, "and tho

; his eyes b

e was a heap of cotton waste in the corner, shouldn't

s horr

?" she whispered, moving

ess. "Business! business! I'm a business man! I wasn't in business"-he

r son and had turned into a monster. Then she

was low

and all those

looked at her with haggard eye

d.... I'm branded for life ... this thing will

ed in her arms, the boy who had romped with her, and she only knew now

or Joe!" s

side himself, "I'm bl

crie

. it's over.... From now on, make amends.... Joe!"-She rose magnificently then-"Y

Her words, her love, her bel

too-and the men-and the people up-stairs-and the law because it didn't demand bet

him to bed. He was at last too weary to think or feel and he slept deep into the day. And thinking a litt

*

of New York drew together with indignation and wondrous pity. It did not bring the dead

d their common humanity; and the philanthropic societies set to work with money, with doctors and nurses and visitors. The head of one huge association said to the relief committee in a low,

ling themselves down to the stone pavement in an insanity of terror? What war was more horrible than this Peace of Industry? Such

xonerate him and inculpate themselves, and the lawyers cleverly scattered blame from one power to another-the city, the State, the fire department, the building department, etc. It

ous and overwrought, bearing a burden too heavy for his heart. He made over the twenty thousand dollars of insurance money to the Relief

e him a l

eve in you utterly and I love you and shall always

o

Y

he merely

all remember wh

e you wh

ur

O

nie Lemick on the street. Her eyes filled w

e!" she

Fann

u going

ng w

The mass-meeting

d at her

with you,

re they found seats and looked down, down as if on the side of the planet, on the far-away stage filled with the speakers and the committees, and on that sea of humanity that swept back and up through the boxes to themselves. All in the subdued light, the golden light that crowd sat, silent, remo

t, the social worker. They spoke eloquently, they showed pity, they were constructive, they were prepared to act; they represented the "better classes" and promised the "poor," the toilers, that they would see that relief and protection we

d, the drivers and the driven. He felt uncomfortable, and so did the throng. There was a feeling as if

f the hat-trimmers, one of the girls who worked-in anothe

e clarity. She was slim, dressed in a little brown coat and a short brown skirt. She came forward, trembling, as if overcome by the audience. S

oman was overcome, not by the audience, but by the passion of the tragedy, the passion of an oppressed class. She was the voice of the toilers at last dimly audibl

the words out of that lit

nquisition had its rack and its thumbscrews and its instruments of torture with iron teeth. We know what these things are to-day: the iron teeth are our necessities, the thum

of one of my sister workers. Every year thousands of us are maimed. The life of men and women is so cheap and

brothers and sisters by way of a charity gift. But every time the workers come out in the only way they know to p

that we must be intensely orderly and intensely peaceable,

pilled. I know from my experience it is up to the working people to save themsel

there were employees and employers; but in his own case his camaraderie had hidden the cleavage. Now he saw a double world-on the one side the moneyed owners, on the other the crowded, scrambling, disorganized hordes of the toilers-each one of them helpless, a victim, worked for all that was in him, and then flung aside in the scrap heap. And behold, this horde was becoming self-

him that he must see Sally Heffer-that to her he must carry the burden of his guilt-to her he must personally make answer to the terrible accusations she had vo

he stairs with Fannie

ow this Sa

she cried, with all a y

er, Fannie. Wher

nwich Village. But she

fter the

d found the office crowded with wom

ng woman, and then came back with t

ger carry this burden with him. It seemed impossible to sit still. And yet he

woman came

e Miss Heffer?

ly Heffer was there at a roll-top desk, still in her little brown

es

then he sat down, holdi

oe Bla

ine ...

tery ... tha

ed at hi

're the

, I

, brusquely, "wh

s afternoon." His face

so yo

his gray face, his unsteady eyes, the tragedy of th

to do so

mured, "I wan

r voice, and i

money-you must give yourse

a moment; and then s

elt that you were accusing me. I know I am guilty. I

rew c

e here f

es

he gazed on him, and suddenly she brok

his be over? When will we get rid of

, too,

that from this day on my life belongs to those"-

d, and he seized it. Then, when s

is is wonderful! It is a mirac

obbing silence that bro

ncing at him a

suffered! Let me help

e in gr

do? I know

for yourself. You must

ing of the workin

" he

list of books and

list on a slip, and aro

in, gazing at the tragic

ou.... Is there

le liquid gush of lovely joy, of wonderful beatitude began to rise from his heart, to rise and overflow and fill him. He was being cleansed, he had expiated his guilt by

on now,"

d at him,

!" she w

e man again, at the be