Even then there was not so much discussion as might have been expected. Robert, since the storm was so heavy, remained in the office, and sent a boy out for a light luncheon, and the foremen were much in evidence. There was always an uncertainty about their sentiments, occupying as they did a position half-way between employer and employes; and then, too, they were not affected by the cut in wages. The sentiments of the unaffected are always a matter of suspicion to those who suffer themselves. There were grumblings carried on in a low key behind Flynn's back, but the atmosphere for the most part was one of depression. Ellen ate her luncheon with Maria and Abby. Willy Jones came up timidly when they were nearly finished, feeling his way with a remark about the storm, which was increasing. "All the cars are tied up," he said, "and the noon train isn't in." He leaned, with a curious effort at concealment from them all and himself, upon the corner of the bench near Abby. Then a young man passed them, with such an air of tragedy and such a dead-white face that they all stared after him. "What in the world ails you, Ben Simmons?" called out Sadie Peel. But he did not act as if he heard. He crossed vehemently to the other side of the room, and stood at a window, looking out at the fierce white slant of the storm. "What in creation ails him?" cried Sadie Peel. "I guess I know," Willy Jones volunteered, timidly. "What?" "He was going to get married, and this cut in his wages is going to put a stop to it. I heard him say so this morning." "Married! Who to?" asked Sadie Peel. "Floretta Vining." "My land!" cried Sadie Peel. "So she did take up with him after the school-teacher went away. I always said she would. I always knew Edward Harris wouldn't marry her, and I always said Ben Simmons would get her if he hung on long enough. Floretta was bound to marry somebody; she wasn't going to wind up an old maid; and if she couldn't get one, she'd take another. I suppose Ben has got that sick sister of his to do for since her father died, and thinks he can't get married with any less pay. Floretta won't make a very cheap wife. She's bound to have things whether or no, and Ben 'ain't never earned so much as some. He's awful steady, but he's slow as cold molasses, and he won't let his sister suffer for no Floretta." "That's so; I don't believe he would," said Abby. "What any man in his senses wants a doll like that for enough to look as if he was dead when he's got to put off marrying her!" "That's because you ain't a man, Abby Atkins," said Sadie Peel. "All the men think of is looks, and little fine airs and graces." "It seems as if they might get along," ventured Willy Jones, "as if they might do with less for a while."