Weren’t you told about the meeting?” “Meeting? Why, no, sir, I wasn’t.” The chairman frowned. “You see, the bosses are not co-operating,” he said to the others. “Brother, who’s your foreman?” “Mr. Brockway, sir,” I said. Suddenly the men began scraping their feet and cursing. I looked about me. What was wrong? Were they objecting to my referring to Brockway as Mister? “Quiet, brothers,” the chairman said, leaning across his table, his hand cupped to his ear. “Now what was that, brother; who is your foreman?” “Lucius Brockway, sir,” I said, dropping the Mister. But this seemed only to make them
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