It was some time since she had been in the works, and the change was the more pronounced because of it. Instead of cheery smiles, sullen faces and black looks followed them wherever they went: she sensed that the whole atmosphere of the place was hostile. And after a while the uneasy suspicion began to form in her mind that the object of this hostility was her fiancé. She took advantage of the halt at the steam hammer to draw him on one side. "What on earth is the matter with the men, Herbert?" she demanded. "I’ve never seen them like this before." The Honourable Herbert cursed under his breath. He, too, had been painfully aware of the scowls which had followed them, though he had hoped against hope that Marjorie would not notice. Moreover, he had known only too well the reason of the demonstration. And now it would come to old John’s ears.... He cursed again, as the girl looked at him with questioning eyes. "Lord knows, my dear," he answered, abruptly. "I suppose the blighters have got some fancied grievance." "’Blighters! Fancied grievance!’" The girl stepped back a pace in genuine amazement. "Then why don’t you have them together and ask them, like daddy used to do?" As she spoke she glanced over his shoulder, and for a moment her eyes met those of a man standing behind him. He was looking at her deliberately and intently, and suddenly, to her surprise, he held up a twisted slip of paper in his hand. Then he pointed to the floor and turned away. It had been done so quickly that for a while she could hardly believe her eyes. One of the men, trying to pass a secret note.... To her.... What on earth _was_ the matter with everybody?... Once again the man looked at her with the suspicion of a smile on his face, and she frowned quickly. He was impertinent, this youngster, and she turned to her fiancé. She remembered now that the last time she had been round she had seen him working on a lathe: that it had struck her then that he had seemed different from the others—his hands, oily though they were: the cool unembarrassed look in his eyes: his way of speaking.... Almost as if he had been her equal.... And now he was presuming on her kindness then.... Her hands clenched involuntarily as she looked at her fiancé. "What is the name of that man with his back half towards us, over there?" she demanded. For the moment the "fancied grievance" was forgotten in more personal matters. The Honourable Herbert, thankful for the respite, swung round. Then as he saw the subject of her question his jaw set in an ugly line. "John Morrison," he answered, shortly. "And if I had my way I’d sack him on the spot. A useless, argumentative, insubordinate swine...."