Hal found himself losing his distrust of this man. He did not correspond
in any way to Hal's imaginary picture of a union organiser; he was a
blue-eyed, clean-looking young American, and instead of being wild and
loud-mouthed, he seemed rather wistful. He had indignation, of course,
but it did not take the form of ranting or florid eloquence; and this
repression was making its appeal to Hal, who, in spite of his democratic
impulses, had the habits of thought of a class which shrinks from
noisiness and over-emphasis.

Also Hal was interested in his attitude towards the weaknesses of
working-people. The "inertia" of the poor, which caused so many people
to despair for them--their cowardice and instability--these were things
about which Hal had heard all his life. "You can't help them," people
would say. "They're dirty and lazy, they drink and shirk, they betray
each other. They've always been like that." The idea would be summed up
in a formula: "You can't change human nature!" Even Mary Burke, herself
one of the working-class, spoke of the workers in this angry and
scornful way. But Olson had faith in their manhood, and went ahead to
awaken and teach them.

To his mind the path was clear and straight. "They must be taught the
lesson of solidarity. As individuals, they're helpless in the power of
the great corporations; but if they stand together, if they sell their
labour as a unit--then they really count for something." He paused, and
looked at the other inquiringly. "How do you feel about unions?"

Hal answered, "They're one of the things I want to find out about. You
hear this and that--there's so much prejudice on each side. I want to
help the under dog, but I want to be sure of the right way."