When the Mill whistle sounded at the close of that pay day, Mary was sitting under the tree in the yard with her sewing basket--a gift from the Interpreter--on the grass beside her chair. The sunlight lay warm and bright on the garden where the ever industrious bees were filling their golden bags with the sweet wealth of the old-fashioned flowers. Bright-winged butterflies zigzagged here and there above the shrubbery along the fence and over her head; in the leafy shadows of the trees her bird friends were cheerfully busy with their small duties. Now and then a passing neighbor paused to exchange a word or two of their common interests. Presently workmen from the Mill went by--men of her father's class who lived in that vicinity of well-kept cottage homes; and each one called a greeting to the daughter of his friend. And so, at last, Peter Martin himself and Captain Charlie turned in at the little white gate and came to sit down on the grass at her feet. "You are late to-day," said Mary, smiling. "I suppose you both have forgotten that the vegetable garden is to be hoed this afternoon and that you, Charlie, promised to beat the rugs for me." Captain Charlie stretched himself lazily on the cool grass. "We should worry about gardens and rugs and things," he returned. "This is the day we celebrate." The father laughed quietly at his daughter's look of puzzled inquiry. "The day you celebrate?" said Mary. "Celebrate what?" Charlie answered with a fair imitation of a soapbox orator, "This, my beloved sister, is the day of our emancipation from the iron rule of that cruel capitalist, who has for so many years crushed the lives of his toiling slaves in his Mill of hell, and coined our heart's blood into dollars to fill his selfish coffers of princely luxury. Down through the ringing ages of the future this day will be forever celebrated as the day that signals the dawning of a new era in the industrial world of--uh-wow! Stop it!" Captain Charlie was ticklish and the toe of Mary's slippered foot had found a vital spot among his ribs. "You sound like that Jake Vodell," she said. "Stop your nonsense this minute and tell me what you mean or--" Her foot advanced again threateningly. Captain Charlie rolled over to a safe distance and sat up to grin at her with teasing impudence. "What's the matter with him, father?" she demanded. But Pete only laughed and answered, "I guess maybe he thinks he's going to get promoted to some higher-up position in the Mill." "No such luck for me!" said Charlie quickly. "John will need me too much right where I am." A bright color swept into Mary's cheeks and her eyes shone with glad excitement. "Do you mean that John--that his father has--" She looked from her father's face to her brother and back to her father again. Pete nodded silently.