vious to any student of economic
tendencies--presented to Amherst's mind one of the most painful problems
in the scheme of social readjustment. But it was characteristic of him
to dwell rather on the removal of immediate difficulties than in the
contemplation of those to come, and while the individual employer was
still to be reckoned with, the main thing was to bring him closer to his
workers. Till he entered personally into their hardships and
aspirations--till he learned what they wanted and why they wanted
it--Amherst believed that no mere law-making, however enlightened, could
create a wholesome relation between the two.

This feeling was uppermost as he sat with Mrs. Westmore in the carriage
which was carrying them to the mills. He had meant to take the trolley
back to Westmore, but at a murmured word from Mr. Tredegar Bessy had
offered him a seat at her side, leaving others to follow. This
culmination of his hopes--the unlooked-for chance of a half-hour alone
with her--left Amherst oppressed with the swiftness of the minutes. He
had so much to say--so much to prepare her for--yet how begin, while he
was in utter ignorance of her character and her point of view, and while
her lovely nearness left him so little chance of perceiving anything
except itself?

But he was not often the victim of his sensations, and presently there
emerged, out of the very consciousness of her grace and her
completeness, a clearer sense of the conditions which, in a measure, had
gone to produce them. Her dress could not have hung in such subtle
folds, her white chin have nestled in such rich depths of fur, the
pearls in her ears have given back the light from such pure curves, if
thin shoulders in shapeless gingham had not bent, day in, day out, above
the bobbins and carders, and weary ears throbbed even at night with the
tumult of the looms. Amherst, however, felt no sensational resentment at
the contrast. He had lived too much with ugliness and want not to
believe in human nature's abiding need of their opposite. He was glad
there was room for such beauty in the world, and sure that its purpose
was an ameliorating one, if only it could be used as a beautiful spirit
would use it.

The carriage had turned into one of the nondescript thoroughfares, half
incipient street, half decaying lane, which dismally linked the
mill-village to Hanaford. Bessy looked out on the ruts, the hoardings,
the starved trees dangling their palsied leaves in