It was exceedingly hard on the men. They gathered around in little knots on Sunday, wild with conflicting emotions. Their faith in Hope Mills and co-operation was undergoing a severe strain. The fear of secret frauds, of underhand dealing, of distrust in Winston and Darcy, had been dinned in their ears by outside influence, some of it very potent. Not one appeal had been made by the managers: Cameron and the others decided it was best. Jack went over to the mill on Monday morning. The gatekeeper and the bell-boy were there. The engineer came in with a quiet, solemn "Good-morning." The Brotherhood of Engineers had warned him too, and he was a little troubled; but he had cast in his lot with the rest, and it might be as well to wait and see what they did. The main shaft was turned. Jack from his office-window watched the streets filling up with men and women, many beside the regular operatives. They came to a halt. "Ding-dong! ding-dong!" the bell rang out cheerily on the summer morning air. "Come to work, come to work! The birds build homes, and rear their young; the bee skims the fragrant air in search of flowers; the rivers run to the sea, turning wheels, driving ships: nothing in the great economy of nature is idle," sang out the clang of the bell. The hands glanced at one another in doubt and dismay, and there was an awful silence for a few seconds. Some one elbowed his way through the crowd. He had come from the bedside of his sick child, who might be dying even now,--a small, wiry, middle-aged man, with a set, resolute face. He glanced about, then he sprang up on a pile of packing-boxes. It was Jesse Gilman. "My fellow-workmen," he began, "I don't know how you all feel about this matter; but Hope Mills took me in when I had tramped the country half over, and found nothing to do. I've tried the old system, and this can't be any worse; and, if I have to lose money by an employer, I'd rather it would be John Darcy of Yerbury, than any man I know. No man on the face of the earth has a right to say I shall not work in Hope Mills when I made my own bargain long ago to do it. That is all I have to say. I am going to work." "Three cheers!" cried some one as Gilman jumped down. There were cheers and groans. Ben Hay followed him, and stood a moment in the gateway. "Boys," said he in his rich, ringing voice, "Hope Mills was opened to receive a crowd of starving men. I'll take my oath to Jack Darcy's honesty. He's stuck by us, and we'll stick to him. That's the beauty of co-operation. You can't get away, and tramp off with the first fool that asks you! It isn't merely keeping company: it's a good, honest, up-and-down marriage. I'd as soon think of leaving my wife because some day she didn't give me two dinners instead of one!"