Henry Little was much pleased at that, and when Bolt told him how he had carted the bricks in person, said, “You are the man for me; you really are bad to beat.” While they were congratulating each other on this hard-earned victory, Mr. Bayne entered softly, and said, “Mr. White--to speak to Mr. Bolt.” “That is the builder,” said Bolt. “Show him up.” Mr. White came in with a long face. “Bad news, gentlemen; the Machine Brickmaking Company retires from business, driven out of trade by their repeated losses from violence.” “All the worse for the nation,” said Bolt; “houses are a fancy article--got to be. But it doesn't matter to us. We have got bricks enough to go on with.” “Plenty, sir; but that is not where the shoe pinches now. The Brickmakers' Union has made it right with the Bricklayers' Union, and the Bricklayers' Union orders us to cart back every one of those machine-made bricks to the yard.” “See them ---- first,” said Bolt. “Well, sir, have you considered the alternative?” “Not I. What is it?” “Not a bricklayer in Hillsboro', or for fifty miles round, will set a brick for us; and if we get men from a distance they will be talked away, or driven away, directly. The place is picketed on every side at this moment.” Even Bolt was staggered now. “What is to be done, I wonder?” “There's nothing to be done but submit. When two such powerful Unions amalgamate, resistance is useless, and the law of the land a dead letter. Mr. Bolt, I'm not a rich man; I've got a large family; let me beg of you to release me from the contract.” “White, you are a cur. Release you? never!” “Then, sir, I'll go through the court and release myself.” Henry Little was much dejected by this monstrous and unforeseen obstacle arising at the very threshold of his hopes. He felt so sad, that he determined to revive himself with a sight of Grace Carden. He pined for her face and voice. So he went up to Woodbine Villa, though it was not his day. As he drew near that Paradise, the door opened, and Mr. Frederick Coventry came out. The two men nearly met at the gate. The rejected lover came out looking bright and happy, and saw the accepted lover arrive, looking depressed and careworn; he saw in a moment something was going wrong, and turned on his heel with a glance of triumph. Henry Little caught that glance, and stood at the gate black with rage. he stood there about a minute, and then walked slowly home again: he felt he should quarrel with Grace if he went in, and, by a violent effort of self-restraint, he retraced his steps; but he went home sick at heart.