The first working-week was past, and the freshness of the new conditions had gone with it. Everything that occurred in those few days would for ever stand forth with crisp distinctness in the memories of the people, to whom such experiences were so new as to have been previously even undreamed of. Such a week no one had known before; and, the best of it all was, that it was not merely one week in a life given as a great treat, and never repeated: it was the beginning of a new life for them all. “It is a pleasure to work in such a factory, and I will put in for the master the best week’s work I have ever done in my life.” One of the girls said this at the breakfast-table on Monday morning, and her father repeated it to his fellow-workmen later in the day. It expressed what every one felt. There was a unanimous resolve that Mr. Knight should not suffer in his circumstances for all the good which he had done for his people. “Bless him!” said a woman, who had worked for Mr. Knight, senior, nearly fifty years. “Bless him! He will die as rich as Creasote, or else I ain’t no prophet. Such a man as gives his goods to feed the poor, and throwed up his London places ’cause they was dens, and don’t mount no ladder hisself without trying to drag us all up arter him; why it stands to sense as he have a reglar gold-mine in this world, and the cattle upon a thousand hills hereafter. As for me I wish I had fifty pairs of hands, they should all rattle along at railway speed before he should lose a penny for all he has done for me.” “I wish I was cleverer at it,” rejoined a girl, who was working near this woman. “I’ve never troubled to make myself a first-class worker, nor I ain’t cared a bit about the work except for the pay; but now I shall go to those evening classes, and learn all I can, and see whether I can’t do credit to Mr. Knight. I’ve never took pains before, but I’ll take pains now, as sure as my name is Sarann.” Many other “Saranns” made the same resolution, and Arthur Knight was touched to see how gentle all his people seemed to become; and how they continued to manifest their gratitude in a dozen ways, though many were too shy to endeavour to express it in words. He was himself profoundly thankful for all that had been accomplished. But he was exceedingly solicitous as to the future. He took into his confidence some of his helpers, and consulted them as to the best means of meeting certain emergencies which he feared would arise. “The men will work in their gardens or go down to the shore, and perhaps be quite happy for a time,” he said; “but afterward there may be a reaction, and I am afraid their thoughts may go back a little regretfully to the public-house bar where they sat and smoked and drank and swore in perfect freedom. Perhaps if we cannot let them have the beer they must have the skittles and the smoking. It is no use to try to wind them up too high. You must help me to find some ways in which they can all be amused.”