"Curse the railroad, an' curse all the new ideas that take the bread out of poor men's mouths to give it to the rich," said a bitter voice, and there was a hoarse amen from the crowd. "I'd give ten years of my life if I could raise enough money, or, if a few of us together could raise enough money, to start a factory in Upham," cried a man, fiercely, "then we'd see whether it was brains as good as other men's that were lacking!" The man, who had not been there long, was quite young, not much older than Jerome, and had a keen, thin face, with nervous red spots coming and going in his cheeks, and fiery, deep-set eyes. He had the reputation of being very smart and energetic, and having considerable self-taught book-knowledge. He had a wife and two babies, and was, if the truth were told, staying away from home that day that his wife, who was a delicate, anxious young thing, might think he was at work. He had eaten nothing since morning. "We shouldn't be no better off, if you put machines in your factory," said a squat, elderly man, with a surly overhanging brow and a dull weight of jaw. "I guess we who are not too old to learn could run machines as well as anybody, if we tried," returned the young man, scornfully; "and as for the rest, handwork is always going to have a market value, and there'll always be some sort of a demand for it. It would go hard if we couldn't give those that couldn't run machines something to do, if we had the factory; but we haven't, and, what's more, we sha'n't have." As he spoke, he went over to Jerome, who was prying up a heavy log, and lifted with him. "Do you think you could form a company, if you had enough money between you?" Jerome asked him. "Yes, of course; we'd be fools if we didn't," he said. "I say, curse the railroads and the machines! I wish every railroad track in the country was tore up! I wish every train of cars was kindlin'-wood, an' all the engine wheels an' the machine wheels would lock, till the crack of doom!" shouted the bitter voice again. "There's no use in damning progress because we happen to be in the way of it. I'd rather be run over than lock the wheels myself," Jerome said, suddenly. "It remains to be seen whether ye would or not," the voice returned, with sarcastic meaning. There was a smothered chuckle from the crowd, which began to disperse; the shadows were getting thick in the wood. After supper that night, Jerome went up to his room, and sat down at his window. His curtain was pulled high. He looked out into the darkness and tried to think, but directly a door slammed, and a shrill babble of feminine tongues began in the room below. Belinda Lamb had arrived. Jerome got his hat, stole softly down-stairs, and out of the front door. "I've got to be alone somewhere, where I can think," he said to himself, and forthwith made for the site of his mill; he could be sure of solitude there at that hour.