ive little way, 'You tell father the eldest is to
be called Nicholas, and tell John Thomas the youngest is to be called
John Thomas. I can manage two of that name very well. And say that
I won't have any more disputing about names, the boys are as good as
christened already.' And of course when Lucy said that we all knew it
was settled. And I'm glad the eldest is Nicholas. He is a fine, sturdy
little Yorkshireman, bawling out already for what he wants, and flying
into a temper if he doesn't get it as soon as he wants it. Dearie me,
Ethel, I am a proud woman this morning. And Nicholas is going to give
all the hands a holiday, and a trip up to Ambleside on Saturday, though
John Thomas is very much against it."

"Why is he against it?"

"He says they will be holding a meeting on Monday night to try and find
out what Old Nicholas is up to, and that if he doesn't give them the
same treat on the same date next year, they'll hold an indignation
meeting about being swindled out of their rights. And I'll pledge you my
word John Thomas knows the men he's talking about. However, Nicholas
is close with his money, and it will do him good happen to lose a bit.
Blood-letting is healthy for the body, and perhaps gold-letting may help
the soul more than we think for."

This news stimulated Ethel's thinking, and when she also stood beside
the two cradles, and the little Nicholas opened his big blue eyes and
began to "bawl for what he wanted," a certain idea took fast hold of
her, and she nursed it silently for the next month, watch-ing Tyrrel at
the same time. It was near October, however, before she found the proper
opportunity for speaking. There had been a long letter from the Judge.
It said Ruth and he were home again after a wonderful trip over the
Northern Pacific road. He wrote with enthusiasm of the country and its
opportunities, and of the big cities they had visited on their return
from the Pacific coast. Every word was alive, the magnitude and stir of
traffic and wrestling humanity seemed to rustle the paper. He described
New York as overflowing with business. His own plans, the plans of
others, the jar of politics, the thrill of music and the drama--all the
multitudinous vitality that crowded the streets and filled the air, even
to the roofs of the twenty-story buildings, contributed to the potent
exhilaration of the letter.

"Great George!" exclaimed Tyrrel. "That is life! That is living! I wish
we were back in America!"