in return and straightway became her dignified
little self again.

"When is Mr. Woodward expected back?" Josiah asked a clerk.

"On the ten-thirty, from Boston."

This was Stanley Woodward, Josiah's cousin--Cousin Stanley of the
spider's web whom you have already met. He was now the general manager of
the factory, and had always thought that fate was on his side since the
night he had heard of Martha's death and that the child she left behind
her was a girl.

Josiah glanced at his watch.

"Time to make the rounds," he said and, lifting Mary on his arm, he left
the office and started through the plant.

And, oh, how Mary loved it--the forests of belts, whirring and twisting
like live things, the orderly lines of machine tools, each doing its work
with more than human ingenuity and precision, the enormous presses
reminding her of elephants stamping out pieces of metal, the grinders
which sang to her, the drilling machines which whirred to her, the
polishing machines which danced for her, the power hammers which bowed to
her. Yes, and better than all was the smile that each man gave her,
smiles that came from the heart, for all the quiet respect that
accompanied them.

"It's his daughter," they whispered as soon as Josiah was out of hearing.
Here and there one would stop smiling and say, "I remember the day he
brought her mother through--"

At the end of one of the workshops, Mr. Spencer looked at his watch
again.

"We'd better get back to the office," he said. "Tired, dear?"

In a rapture of denial, she kicked her little toes against his side.

"Bred in the bone..." he mused. "Eh, if she had only been a boy...!" But
that was past all sighing for, and in the distance he saw Cousin Stanley,
just back from Boston, evidently coming to find him.

Mary, too, was watching the approaching figure. She had sometimes seen
him at the house and had formed against him one of those instinctive
dislikes which few but children know. As Stanley drew near she turned her
head and buried her face against her father's shoulder.

"Good news?" asked Josiah.

"Good news, of course," said Stanley, speaking as an irresistible force
might speak, if it were endowed with a tongue. "When Spencer & Son start
out for a thing, they get it." You could tell that what he meant was
"When Stanley Woodward starts out for a thing, he gets it." His elbows
suddenly grew restless. "It will take a lot of money," he added. "Of
course we shall have t