There was no warning given; except that I believe there had been several complaints of father's irregular way of working. Mr. Johnstone did not speak to father himself. The foreman told him he would not be wanted any more, after a certain day. Father was angry and wanted to know why. The answer was, that Mr. Johnstone had not been satisfied with him for a good while, and as he had rather more hands than he wanted just then, of course those who had been least steady at work must be the first to go. Years later I heard more, in other quarters. I know now that poor father had more than once forgotten himself, and had spoken in an uppish sort of way, and had talked too much of his "good luck," and had seemed to think himself pretty much on a level with his master. And neither master nor men liked it. I know that Mr. Johnstone told a friend he found father's influence "demoralising," whatever that might mean. He said the other men were getting unsettled and discontented, and he could not allow it to go on. But we had known nothing of all this; and when father came home, and told us he was not to work there any more, we did not know what to think of it. Father was very angry, and yet he tried to seem as if he did not care. He talked big, and said he was right glad, and he didn't mean to be any more at the beck and call of that fellow Sykes. Sykes was the foreman. Mother seemed half frightened and half pleased. And grannie was very quiet, and her dear face looked so pale. I had seen that pale look often lately, and I knew she was fretted and worried. She said at last,—"What are you going to do, Miles?" "Do! Why, stay away," says he roughly. "But the money isn't come yet, and we can't live on nothing till it does," grannie said. "Oh, there's no need," father said. "I could get other work easy enough. But I don't see why I'm to work like a poor man, when I have five thousand pounds of my own. I don't see it at all." "God's law is work," said grannie in a low voice. "He gave us the Sunday for rest. But He gave us a clear command too,—'SIX DAYS SHALT THOU LABOUR.'" "It's a command lots of people break, then," said father. I think that father, like a good many people, fancied "work" and "labour" can only mean bodily toil. I know better now. I have seen more of life, and I know there are many different kinds of work,—hand-work, and head-work, and heart-work. The man that is piling up bricks and mortar may not be toiling one quarter so hard, as the man who sits quiet in a chair, working out some deep thought for other men, or the woman who wears herself out in ceaseless watching of her children and caring for their good. "What are we to do, Miles?" grannie asked again. "Oh, I'll see about it," said father. "There's no hurry. I'll get a job or two somewhere. And they'll let us have things on credit anywhere. My good fortune is well enough known. We shan't starve."