“Do you know, Everett,” he said, “a man might turn atheist expecting less stricture than I expect who make the leap from land to steam.” It came into his mind that Dorothy Verners was further off than ever now. “Everett,” he said, “extremes meet. We’ll call that factory the ‘Dorothy.’ Gad, if we win! If we win!” He gripped Martin’s hand with agonizing strength and went into the lawyer’s room, leaving Everett to wonder what sort of an eccentric he had hooked. The lawyer, who had been asked by letter to be prepared with advice, found all that brushed curtly aside: he was to take instructions from a client who knew what he wanted, not to minister to a mind in doubt, and very definite and remarkable instructions he found them. “The whole of your land to be sold, excepting where the presence of coal is, or will be within a week, known? And all for a steam-driven factory! Sir, I advised your father. I believe he trusted me. It is my duty to warn you and--” “Thankee, sir,” Reuben interrupted him. “I may tell you I looked for this from you, but I don’t appreciate it the less because I expected it. You advised my father, you shall continue to advise me.” “That you may do the opposite?” “No. That when I go driving through new country I may have a brake on my wheels.” “Well... am I to lock your wheels this time?” “I’m going driving,” said Reuben resolutely, “but you shall find me some one to teach me to handle the reins. I must learn my trade, sir. Find me some factory owner who will sell me his secrets cheap, near my coal-lands if that’s possible, that I may watch Everett at work.” “If a Hepplestall condescends to trade,” said the lawyer without conscious flattery, “he will be welcomed by the traders. There will be no difficulty about that. Indeed you have one on your own land, Peter Bradshaw, with a factory on a stream of yours and I believe he has both spinning jennies and weaving-looms. Go and hear what Peter thinks of steam.”