small, white one she put out to meet his.

"Well then, listen John, and see thou mind them:

"The rain has spoiled the farmer's day,
Shall weather put my work away?
Thereby are two days lost.
Nature shall mind her own affairs,
I will attend my proper cares,
In rain or sun or frost."

And the days went busily forward and John though he counted off day by
day was happy. Every loom he had was busy overtime. His manufactured
goods, woven in such stress and sorrow, were selling well, his cotton
sheds were filling rapidly. Men and women were beginning to sing at
their work again, for as one result of the day John spent with Harlow,
his lordship had opened a plain, good, and very cheap furniture store,
where the workers in cotton factories could renew on easy installments
the furniture they had sold for a mouthful of bread. It was known only
as "The Hatton Furniture Store" and John Hatton, while denying any share
in its business, stood as guarantee for its honesty, and no one was
afraid to open an account there. It really seemed as if Hatton village
had never before been so busy, so hopeful, and so full of life. The
factory bell had never sounded so cheerful. The various societies and
civic brotherhood meetings never had been so crowded and so cordial. Old
quarrels and grudges had died out and had been forgotten forever while
men and women broke their last crust of bread together or perhaps
clemmed themselves to help feed the children of the very man that had
wronged them. Consequent on these pleasant surroundings, Hatton Chapel
was crowded, the singing-pew held the finest voices in the countryside,
and there was such a renewal of religious interest that Greenwood chose
the most jubilant hymn tunes he could find in all Methodist Psalmody.

Then suddenly in spite of all these pleasant happenings strange
misgivings began to mix with John's days and cross and darken his hours
of rest. Every morning he got his London letter, always full of love and
satisfactions, yet uncalled-for and very unlikely apprehensions came
into his thoughts and had power to shake his soul as they passed. He was
angry at himself. He called himself ungrateful to God who had so
wonderfully helped him. He prayed earnestly for a thankful, joyful
spirit, and he assumed the virtue of cheerfulness though he was far from
feeling it. But he said nothing of this delusive temper to his mother.
He was in reality ashamed of his depre