nches now. The
Brickmakers' Union has made it right with the Bricklayers' Union,
and the Bricklayers' Union orders us to cart back every one of those
machine-made bricks to the yard."

"See them ---- first," said Bolt.

"Well, sir, have you considered the alternative?"

"Not I. What is it?"

"Not a bricklayer in Hillsboro', or for fifty miles round, will set
a brick for us; and if we get men from a distance they will be talked
away, or driven away, directly. The place is picketed on every side at
this moment."

Even Bolt was staggered now. "What is to be done, I wonder?"

"There's nothing to be done but submit. When two such powerful Unions
amalgamate, resistance is useless, and the law of the land a dead
letter. Mr. Bolt, I'm not a rich man; I've got a large family; let me
beg of you to release me from the contract."

"White, you are a cur. Release you? never!"

"Then, sir, I'll go through the court and release myself."

Henry Little was much dejected by this monstrous and unforeseen obstacle
arising at the very threshold of his hopes. He felt so sad, that he
determined to revive himself with a sight of Grace Carden. He pined for
her face and voice. So he went up to Woodbine Villa, though it was
not his day. As he drew near that Paradise, the door opened, and Mr.
Frederick Coventry came out. The two men nearly met at the gate. The
rejected lover came out looking bright and happy, and saw the accepted
lover arrive, looking depressed and careworn; he saw in a moment
something was going wrong, and turned on his heel with a glance of
triumph.

Henry Little caught that glance, and stood at the gate black with rage.
he stood there about a minute, and then walked slowly home again: he
felt he should quarrel with Grace if he went in, and, by a violent
effort of self-restraint, he retraced his steps; but he went home sick
at heart.

The mother's eye read his worn face in a moment, and soon she had it all
out of him. It cost her a struggle not to vent her maternal spleen
on Grace; but she knew that would only make her son more unhappy. She
advised him minutely what to say to the young lady about Mr. Coventry:
and, as to the other matters she said, "You have found Mr. Bolt not so
bad to beat as he tells you: for he is beaten, and there's an end of
him. Now let ME try."

"Why, what on earth can you do in a case of this kind?"

"Have I ever failed when you have accepted my assistance?"

"No: that's true. Well,