way. They ought
to be in some kind of a home, making happiness and bringing up boys and
girls. Look at the whimpering, puny, sick babies factory women
bear--God, how I pity them!"

"Tell me the truth, Mrs. Brent. Were you really glad to have ten
children?"

"To be sure, I was glad. Every one of them was varry welcome. I used to
say to mysen, 'God must think Susy Brent a good mother, or He wouldn't
keep on sending her children to bring up for Him.' It is my work in this
life, missis, to bring up the children God sends me, and _I like my
work_!" With the last four words, she turned a beaming face to Jane and
sent them home with an emphatic thump of her iron on the little shirt
she was smoothing.

CHAPTER XII

PROFIT AND LOSS

The trifles of our daily life,
The common things scarce worth recall,
Whereof no visible trace remains,
These are the main springs after all.

O why to those who need them not,
Should Love's best gifts be given!
How much is wasted, wrecked, forgot,
On this side of heaven?

The thing that John feared, had happened to him, no miracle had
prevented it, and that day he must shut the great gates of Hatton
factory. He could hardly realize the fact. He kept wondering if his
father knew it, but if so, he told himself he would doubtless know the
why and the wherefore and the end of it. He would know, also, that his
son John had done all a man could do to prevent it. This was now a great
consolation and he had also a confident persuasion that the enforced
lock-out would only last for a short time.

"Things have got to their worst, Greenwood," he said, "and when the tide
is quite out, it turns instantly for the onward flow."

"To be sure it does, sir," was the answer. "Your honored father, sir,
used to say, 'If changes don't come, make them come. Things aren't
getting on without them.'"

"How long can we run, Greenwood?"

"Happen about four hours, sir."

"When the looms give up, send men and women to the lunchroom."

"All right, sir."

Was it all right? If so, had he not been fighting a useless battle and
got worsted? But he could not talk with his soul that morning. He could
not even think. He sat passive and was dumb because it was evidently
God's doing. Perhaps he had been too proud of his long struggle, and it
was good spiritual correction for him to go down into the valley of
humiliation. Short ejaculatory prayers fell almost unconsciou