deep-set windows wore
a repellent look of strength and solidity. More than one man felt
bitterly his own personal weakness as he turned to look at them. The
ocean of fate seemed to be dashing him against their gray walls--what
use was it to fight against the Corporation? Two great forces were in
opposition now, and happiness could come only from their serving each
other in harmony.

The stronger force of capital had withdrawn from the league; the
weaker one, labor, was turned into an utter helplessness of idleness.
There was nothing to be done; you cannot rebel against a shut-down,
you can only submit.

A week later the great wheel stopped early on the last day of work.
Almost everyone left his special charge of machinery in good order,
oiled and cleaned and slackened with a kind of affectionate lingering
care, for one person loves his machine as another loves his horse.
Even little Maggie pushed her bobbin-box into a safe place near the
overseer's desk and tipped it up and dusted it out with a handful of
waste. At the foot of the long winding stairs Mrs. Kilpatrick was
putting away her broom, and she sighed as she locked the closet door;
she had known hard times before. "They'll be wanting me with odd jobs;
we'll be after getting along some way," she said with satisfaction.

"March is a long month, so it is--there'll be plinty time for change
before the ind of it," said Mary Cassidy hopefully. "The agent will be
thinking whatever can he do; sure he's very ingenious. Look at him how
well he persuaded the directors to l'ave off wit' making cotton cloth
like everybody else, and catch a chance wit' all these new linings and
things! He's done very well, too. There bees no sinse in a shut-down
anny way, the looms and cards all suffers and the bands all slacks if
they don't get stiff. I'd sooner pay folks to tind their work whatever
it cost."

"'Tis true for you," agreed Mrs. Kilpatrick.

"What'll ye do wit' the shild, now she's no chance of pay, any more?"
asked Mary relentlessly, and poor Maggie's eyes grew dark with fright
as the conversation abruptly pointed her way. She sometimes waked up
in misery in Mrs. Kilpatrick's warm bed, crying for fear that she was
going to be sent back to the poorhouse.

"Maggie an' me's going to kape together awhile yet," said the good old
woman fondly. "She's very handy for me, so she is. We 'on't part with
'ach other whativer befalls, so we 'on't," and Maggie looked up with a
wistful