came a synonym for quality.

Among other curious ideas held by Owen was that to make finer goods you
must have a finer quality of workman. To produce this finer type of
person now became his dream.

Mr. Drinkwater smiled at the idea and emphasized "dividends."

Now Mr. Drinkwater had a son-in-law who looked in on things once a
month, signed his voucher and went away fox-hunting. He thought he was
helping run the mill. This man grew jealous of the young manager and
suggested that Drinkwater increase the boy's pay and buy off the
percentage clause in the contract, so as to keep the youngster from
getting megalocephalia.

Drinkwater asked Owen what he would take for the contract, and Owen
handed it to him and said, "Nothing." It gave him a chance to get out
into a larger field. Drinkwater never thought of the value of that
little Robert Owen label. No wise employer should ever allow a thing
like that.

Owen had won both name and fame among the merchants, and he now engaged
with several mills to superintend their output and sell their goods with
his label on each package. In other words, he was a Manufacturers'
Broker. From a five-hundred-pound-a-year man he had grown to be worth
two thousand pounds a year.

No mill owned him. He was free--he was making money. The dream of human
betterment was still in his heart.

On one of his trips to Glasgow to sell goods, he met a daughter of David
Dale, a mill-owner who was in active competition with him. Dale made a
fine yarn, too.

The girl had heard of Owen: they met as enemies--a very good way to
begin an acquaintance. It was Nature's old, old game of stamen, pistil
and pollen, that fertilizes the world of business, betterment and
beauty. They quarreled.

"You are the man who puts your name on the package?"

"Yes."

"And yet you own no mill!"

"True--but----"

"Never mind. You certainly are proud of your name."

"I am--wouldn't you be?"

"Not of yours."

Then they stared at each other in defiance. To relieve the tension, Mr.
Owen proposed a stroll. They took a walk through the park and discovered
that they both were interested in Social Reform. David Dale owned the
mills at New Lanark--a most picturesque site. He was trying to carry on
a big business, so as to make money and help the workers. He was doing
neither, because his investment in the plant had consumed too much of
his working capital.

They discussed the issue until eleven forty-five by the clock.