influence on two or three of the Right-Wing element who would wholeheartedly support the efficiency committee.
“How would it be to call Toyama?” the managing director asked, turning to Arishima, who was resting his head on his hands, plunged deep in thought. “While we were making a profit the president was not likely to complain whether it was co-operation between capital and labour, or Communism or any god-damned thing, but now” His spiteful eyes shot their gaze right at the vice-president’s side face as he mumbled under his breath, “I’m sorry for him”
Arishima was fingering one of the leaflets distributed that morning from the union, but it, too, offered faint hope. With sudden resolution he pressed the bell.
“Tell Toyama of Shop No. 2 of the foundry to come to the reception room downstairs.”
The vice-president had completely lost all his self-confidence. His earthly paradise of co-operation between capital and labour, despite his desperate efforts, was crumbling. The prohibition of night work, the enactment of a minimum wage, the establishment of a factory council—all these, in so far as lay in his power, had been used as a manure, but the flowers of his paradise, contrary to his hopes, proved to have thorns and the plants shot up spears.
The way in front was dark; it would be impossible for him to occupy that chair after to-day. Now his last hope, the successful launching of the efficiency committee, was very faint unless the union veered over to the Right.
