"My dear son Richard. No one knows the son he has been to me; the sacrifices he has made. No one save God." Miss Dallory gave no answer to this. He was lost in deep abstraction, thinking no doubt of his many troubles--for he always was thinking of them--when the person in question entered; Richard North. Miss Dallory rose and sat down on a chair decorously. She remained only a minute or two now, and spent the time talking and laughing. Richard gave her his arm to take her back to the others. Miss Dallory apparently was in no hurry to go, for she lingered over some of the flower-beds. "Is the strike a serious matter?" she questioned in a confidential tone. "As serious as it is possible for any matter of the kind to be," replied Richard. "You and your men were always on the best of terms: why did they become dissatisfied with you?" "They never became dissatisfied with me. The Trades' Unions' agents stepped in and persuaded them they would be better off if they could work less time and be paid more wages. The men listened: it was only natural they should do so: and presented themselves with these new demands. I did not grant them, and they struck. That's the case in a nutshell, Miss Dallory." "I suppose you would not grant them?" "I would not grant them upon principle; I could not, because my profits did not allow it. I am quite certain that if I had given way, in a short time the men would have demanded more. The Trades' Unions will never allow them to be satisfied, until----" "Until what?" she asked, for Richard had stopped. "Until the country is ruined, and its trade has left it." "It is a serious thing," she said--and she was very grave now. "I suppose you would take the men on again upon the old terms?" "And be glad to do it." "And they will not come?" "No. I have offered to meet them half-way. It is of no use." "Then I think those men deserve to learn what want of employment means," she returned warmly. "I thought your men were intelligent; I used to know many of them. When I go amongst them--and that may be tomorrow---I shall ask them if they have taken leave of their senses. What does Mrs. Gass say to it all?" Richard smiled a little. Mrs. Gass said more than he did, he answered, but it was equally useless. "And I suppose it is the strike that is troubling Mr. North? I think him so very much changed." "It troubles him, of course--and there are other things." "Does it trouble _you?_" asked Miss Dallory, pointedly, as she looked straight at him. "Trouble me!" he rejoined, surprised at the unnecessary question. "Why, it involves simply ruin, unless we can go on again. Ruin to me, and to my father with me. There's your brother." They had reached the lawn at length, and saw Francis Dallory, who had come for his sister. He was a short, fair young man, with an open countenance. Madam had already appropriated him.