"Time to make the rounds," he said and, lifting Mary on his arm, he left the office and started through the plant. And, oh, how Mary loved it--the forests of belts, whirring and twisting like live things, the orderly lines of machine tools, each doing its work with more than human ingenuity and precision, the enormous presses reminding her of elephants stamping out pieces of metal, the grinders which sang to her, the drilling machines which whirred to her, the polishing machines which danced for her, the power hammers which bowed to her. Yes, and better than all was the smile that each man gave her, smiles that came from the heart, for all the quiet respect that accompanied them. "It's his daughter," they whispered as soon as Josiah was out of hearing. Here and there one would stop smiling and say, "I remember the day he brought her mother through--" At the end of one of the workshops, Mr. Spencer looked at his watch again. "We'd better get back to the office," he said. "Tired, dear?" In a rapture of denial, she kicked her little toes against his side. "Bred in the bone..." he mused. "Eh, if she had only been a boy...!" But that was past all sighing for, and in the distance he saw Cousin Stanley, just back from Boston, evidently coming to find him. Mary, too, was watching the approaching figure. She had sometimes seen him at the house and had formed against him one of those instinctive dislikes which few but children know. As Stanley drew near she turned her head and buried her face against her father's shoulder. "Good news?" asked Josiah. "Good news, of course," said Stanley, speaking as an irresistible force might speak, if it were endowed with a tongue. "When Spencer & Son start out for a thing, they get it." You could tell that what he meant was "When Stanley Woodward starts out for a thing, he gets it." His elbows suddenly grew restless. "It will take a lot of money," he added. "Of course we shall have to increase the factory here--" Still Mary kept her face hidden against her father's shoulder. "Got the little lady with you, I see." "Yes; I'm afraid I've tired her out." A murmur arose from his shoulder. "What?" said Josiah. "Not tired? Then turn around and shake hands with Uncle Stanley." Slowly, reluctantly, Mary lifted her head and began to reach out her hand. Then just before their fingers would have touched, she quickly clasped her hands around her father's neck and again she buried her face upon his shoulder. "She doesn't seem to take to you," said Josiah. "So it seems," said the other dryly. Reaching around he touched Mary's cheek with the back of his finger. "Not mad at your uncle, are you, little girl?" he asked. "Don't!" said Josiah, speaking with quick concern. "You're only making her tremble...."