'I know nothing about Robert Darby or his children,' was the uncompromising reply of Mr. Hunter. 'If a man sees his children starving before him, and will not work to feed them, he deserves to find them ill. Florence, I see what you mean--you would like to ask me to permit you to send them relief. _I will not._' Do not judge of Mr. Hunter's humanity by the words, or deem him an unfeeling man. He was far from that. Had the men been out of work through misfortune, he would have been the first to forward them succour; many and many a time had he done it in cases of sickness. He considered, as did most of the other London masters, that to help the men or their families in any way, would but tend to prolong the dispute. And there was certainly reason in their argument--if the men wished to feed their children, why did they not work for them? 'Sir,' whispered Austin, when he was going, and Mr. Hunter went with him into the hall, 'that bill of Lamb's came back to us to-day, noted.' 'No!'--'It did, indeed. I had to take it up.' Mr. Hunter lifted his hands. 'This wretched state of things! It will bring on ruin, it will bring on ruin. I heard one of the masters curse the men the other day in his perplexity and anger; there are times when I am tempted to follow his example. Ruin! for my wife and for Florence!' 'Mr. Hunter,' exclaimed Austin, greatly agitated, and speaking in the moment's impulse, 'why will you not give me the hope of winning her? I will make her a happy home----' 'Be silent!' sternly interrupted Mr. Hunter. 'I have told you that Florence can never be yours. If you cannot put away this unthankful subject, at once and for ever, I must forbid you the house.' 'Good night, sir,' returned Austin. And he went away, sighing heavily. CHAPTER IV. SOMEBODY 'PITCHED INTO.'