“Mr. Hope told me an hour ago, Marsten, that you had visited him yesterday, and had done me the honour to call at Wimbledon afterwards; so I came home, fearing I might miss a second visit. Mr. Hope spoke very highly of you, and I do not wish to be less cordial than he in expressing my own opinion of your most disinterested devotion to the welfare of your fellow-workmen.” Marsten moistened his dry lips, but made no attempt at reply. Timorous little Mr. Hope had not kept faith with him, then, and, after counseling him to silence, had blurted out all the particulars as soon as he came again under the influence of his masterful servant, and thus had precipitated this deplorable encounter. Edna looked from one to the other, a slight shade of apprehension on her face. The words of her father were all that she could ask, their tone was unexceptionable, and yet--and yet--there was frost in the air. She spoke with less buoyancy than before, still with confidence that all was as it should be. “That was one of the very points which troubled us. Mr. Hope asked Mr. Marsten to say nothing about the Surbiton visit, while I felt sure you wouldn’t mind.” “You did quite right, Marsten, in saying nothing about it when Mr. Hope asked you not to mention it, but Edna is right also in stating that it would have made no difference to me.” “Now,” said Edna to the young man, “you see how groundless all your fears were, and how a few simple words of explanation clear away all difficulties. I hope you will visit us whenever you want to talk to my father--you would be pleased to have him come, wouldn’t you, father? Mr. Marsten has done his best to settle the strike, even though he failed.” “I quite appreciate that, Marsten, and my house is always open to you.” Edna glanced with a smile at Marsten; his eyes were fixed intently on Sartwell, who continued suavely: “However, it is only right that I should let you know there will be no more need to discuss the strike. I have been played with long enough. It is now my turn to strike. On Monday the works will be going again. I have on file four times as many applications for work as I have vacancies to fill. My clerks are at this moment writing out some hundreds of telegrams, asking the receivers to report for duty on Monday morning. I shall have no more traffic with the Union.” “Oh!” cried the girl, in dismay. “Won’t you give me another chance with the men?” asked Marsten, speaking for the first time. “There were only a few votes against us at the last meeting.” “You have from now until Friday night. I give you up to the latest moment, and that is why I pay six times as much and use the telegraph rather than the post. Letters would do quite as well mailed on Friday. The works open on Monday, with or without you, so you see you have little time to lose.” “I shall go at once to London and call a meeting of the men. May I see you at your office to-morrow?”