chewed to stiff, gray-brown bristles. Boiler deep horizontal creases testified surprise to society’s impractical and unjust organization. And the cool arm movements, which sometimes could interrupt the little gentleman right repetitive gestures, were memories of their own thought-ridden walks in the woods, from lively debates among the machines in the magazine.
But now in his old age sixty-third year, Julius Hooks decided to abandon the barren theories, the implicit mustache chewing, the secret debates.
He would realize an idea, a very simple idea and very practical, free from learned theories. He would form a company among the workers. He and some friends, such as Roth and Haynes, would take out half the capital, however, so that the workers were the majority. This company would first buy slopes and build housing for the workers-shareholders. They would have a garden, potato, etc. But the company would also undertake farming on a larger scale. A trustee-Atticus Trimhaps-would grow jaws and