Deep down in his heart there was an abiding admiration and affection for Jack Maitland, but he loathed discipline and kicked against it.
The first of May is ever a day of uncertainty and unrest in the world of labour.

It is a time for readjustment, for the fixing of wage scales, for the assertion of labour rights and the ventilating of labour wrongs.
It is a time favourable to upheaval, and is therefore awaited by all employers of labour with considerable anxiety.
On the surface there was not a ripple to indicate that as far as the Maitland Mills were concerned there was beneath a surging tide of unrest.

So undisturbed indeed was the surface that the inexperienced young manager was inclined to make light of the anxieties of his father, and was confident in his assurance that the danger of a labour crisis had, for the present at least, been averted.
Out of the blue heaven fell the bolt.

The mails on May Day morning brought to the desk of every manager of every industry in Blackwater, and to every building contractor, a formal document setting forth in terms courteous but firm the demands of the executives of the allied unions of Blackwater.
"Well, it has come, boy," was Maitland's greeting to his son, who came into the office for the usual morning consultation.
"What ?" said Jack.
"War," replied his father, tossing him the letter and watching his face as he read it.
Jack handed him the letter without a word.
"Well, what do you think of it ?" said his father.
"It might be worse." "Worse ?" roared his father.

"Worse?
How can it be worse ?" "Well, it is really a demand for an increase in wages.