"I've been over th' place from top to bottom," he said. "I held out until to-night. To-night I give in, and as soon as I left 'em I came here. Ten minutes after it was done I'd have undone it if I could--I'd have undone it. But it's done, and there's an end on it." He threw the scraps of paper aside and clenched his hand, speaking through his teeth. "She's never given me a word to hang on," he said, "and I've done it for her. I've give up what I worked for and boasted on, just to be brought nigher to her. She knows I've done it,--she _knows_ it, though she's never owned it by a look,--and I'll make that enough." "If you make your way with her," said Murdoch, "you have earned all you won." "Aye," was the grim answer. "I've earned it." And soon after the light in the window went out, and they parted outside and went their separate ways in the dark. CHAPTER XIX. AN UNEXPECTED GUEST. Before the week's end, all Broxton had heard the news. In the Works, before and after working hours, groups gathered together to talk it over. Haworth was going to 'tak' Ffrench in partner.' It was hard to believe it, and the general opinion expressed was neither favorable nor complimentary. "Haworth and Ffrench!" said Floxham, in sarcastic mood. "Haworth and Co.,--an' a noice chap Co. is to ha' i' a place. We'n ha' patent silver-mounted back-action puddlin'-rakes afore long, lads, if Co. gets his way." Upon the occasion of the installation of the new partner, however, there was a natural tendency to conviviality. Not that the ceremony in question was attended with any special manifestation on the part of the individuals most concerned. Ffrench's appearance at the Works was its chief feature, but, the day's labor being at an end, several gentlemen engaged in the various departments scorning to neglect an opportunity, retired to the "Who'd 'a' Thowt it," and promptly rendered themselves insensible through the medium of beer, assisted by patriotic and somewhat involved speeches. Mr. Briarley, returning to the bosom of his family at a late hour, sat down by his fireside and wept copiously. "I'm a poor chap, Sararann," he remarked. "I shall ne'er get took in partner by nobody. I'm not i' luck loike some--an' I nivver wur, 'ceptin' when I getten thee." "If tha'd keep thy nose out o' th' beer-mug tha'd do well enow," said Mrs. Briarley. But this did not dispel Mr. Briarley's despondency. He only wept afresh. "Nay, Sararann," he said, "it is na beer, it's misforchin. I allus wur misforchnit--'ceptin' when I getten thee." "Things is i' a bad way," he proceeded, afterward. "Things is i' a bad way. I nivver seed 'em i' th' reet leet till I heerd Foxy Gibbs mak' his speech to-neet. Th' more beer he getten th' eleyquenter he wur. Theer'll be trouble wi' th' backbone an' sinoo, if theer is na summat done." "What art tha drivin' at?" fretted his wife. "I canna mak' no sense out o' thee."