The children were to come in the afternoon and play outdoors with their sleds and indoors with the books and games, eat cookies and cocoa and depart with beautiful red and blue and yellow balloons. In the evening the young men and women and the fathers and mothers were to gather in the living room and play games and sing and maybe dance and lock at the books and make lovely plans and admire everything. There would be sandwiches and coffee for them, too. And Robin would make a little speech, telling them that the House of Laughter was all theirs to do what they wanted with it and that the key would always hang just behind the shiny green trellis. Robin had demurred at this last detail, shrinking in horror at the thought of a "speech," but Beryl had insisted that she really must because she was a "Forsyth." Then Robin wrote and sent to each of the Mill houses cards inviting them to come to the House of Laughter on Saturday night. And, everything ready, she counted a precious two hundred dollars left in the heart-shaped box. That, with what she had not spent from her ridiculously big allowance, seemed a fortune. Saturday dawned a crisp, cold, bright day, promising to the expectant sponsors of the House of Laughter, all kinds of success. But at twelve o'clock a little group of mill workers, chosen by their fellows, went to Frank Norris, the Superintendent, and asked for higher wages and better living conditions, Adam Kraus acting as their leader. It was not the first time these complaints and requests had been laid before the superintendent--but now, in the hearts of the hundreds of men and girls who hung around the yards long after the noon whistle blew, a new hope kindled, for there had never before been a man among them who could talk so convincingly as Adam Kraus or could more effectually make old Norris realize that they all knew now, to a man, that they could get more money almost anywhere else and work and live like decent human beings. Adam Kraus had opened their eyes. He was their hero--for the moment. As he came, somewhat precipitously, from the office building they gave a quick shout that died, however, with a menacing suddenness, as they saw his failure written on his angry face. They pressed about him, eager for details, but he would tell them nothing beyond a curt admission that he had not been able to make Norris listen. "I say, go to the Manor!" cried a man who had not been at the Mills more than a month. A strapping girl, with a coarse prettiness, laughed a mocking strident laugh that expressed the feelings of the crowd even more than the louder curses around her. The workers slowly dispersed, in little groups, talking in excited, angry tones. Dale Lynch detached himself from one of these groups and walked on alone, a frown darkening his face; nor did he shake off his absorption even after he sat down at the table to eat his mother's good Saturday meal--overcooked for standing.