me."

John took dinner with his mother, and as they were eating it, Mrs.
Hatton said, "I suppose Jane is at Thirsk Hall tonight."

"Yes," answered John. "I refused the invitation. I could not think of
feasting and dancing with the cry of War and Famine at my door."

"You are saying too much, John. Neither war nor famine can touch you."

"If it touches those who work for me and with me, it touches me. I must
think of them as well as myself."

"How is little Martha? I never see her now."

"Jane keeps her at her own side. She has many fine new ideas about the
bringing up of children."

"Did she take Martha to Thirsk with her?"

"Not likely. I hope not."

"_Hum-m!!_"

Towards dusk John rode slowly down the hill. Somehow he had missed the
usual tonic of his mother's company, and Harry's unexpected expenses
troubled him, for it is the petty details of life rather than its great
sorrows which fret and irritate the soul. Indeed, to face simple daily
duties and trials bravely and cheerfully is the most heroic struggle and
the greatest victory the soul can win. That it is generally unwitnessed
and unapplauded, that it seldom gains either honor or gratitude, that it
is frequently despised and blamed, is not to be regarded. It is the fine
tooling or graving on the soul capable of bearing it, of that supreme
grace we call character; that grace that makes all the difference
between one human being and another that there is between a block of
granite and a reach of shifting sand. Every person we meet, has more or
less of this quality, and not to be influenced by it is to belong to
those hard blocks of humanity whom Carlyle calls formulas and phantoms.

Well, this little incident of Harry's unexpected extravagance was a line
of character-tooling on John's soul. He felt the first keen touches, was
suddenly angry, then passive, and as he rode down the hill, satisfied.
Some way or other he felt sure the expense would not interfere with the
things so vitally important to him. As he rode through the village he
noticed that the Spinners' Hall was lit up and that there was a mixed
sound of song and laughter and loud talking within and as Jane was at
Thirsk he alighted at the door of the hall and went in.

On the platform there was one of his own spinners, a lad of seventeen
years old. The audience were mostly young men and women, and they were
dressed for dancing. A mirthful spirit pervaded the room and the usual
order was wanti