He saw how the raw silk which arrived at the factories in bales ranging from eighty to a hundred twisted skeins were weighed; sorted as to quality; soaked in oil so that the gum might be extracted, and the ends freed for winding. He witnessed the drying, or rather the partial drying, of the silk. All this was an old story, for he had seen every step of the process before when at the Gaspard throwing mills. Then followed the winding on big, three-inch spools; and the first spinning. Afterward if the thread was for tram it went direct to the doublers, to be made stronger; but if it was for organzine it was spun again after leaving the doubling frames, and was given a much tighter twisting. It was then reeled into skeins again, this form being found the most convenient one for dyeing. The tying, or lacing of these skeins, had been Pierre's work. The skeins after being laced were then bundled, or packed tightly, to be sent to the dye-house. This finished the work of the throwing mills and Pierre was interested to see that the process was practically the same in America as in France. But from the time the dyed silk came back to the weaving mills everything was new. The weaving of broad goods such as dress materials, mufflers, handkerchiefs, and necktie silks took place on the broad looms; while narrow goods such as ribbons were woven on the narrow looms. It was a long time, alas, ere Pierre came to understand the complex weaving machinery; and before he half comprehended it a most unexpected happening befell the Bretton family. It was heralded by a letter from far-away Bellerivre--a letter from Monsieur le Cure; and before the amazing tidings in the missive could be assimilated another letter--a feeble scrawl--followed. Monsieur Bretton lived! The beloved father they had given up as lost was actually alive! He had been wounded, captured, and kept a prisoner in a hostile camp from which it was impossible to communicate with his family. As soon as he was able he had been forced to work for his captors, and there he had remained cut off from all knowledge of his family or friends. By and by he had succeeded in escaping and reaching his own lines, only to be shot down in the next battle in which he had taken part. Then had followed a long illness in a French hospital where under the care of the kind sisters he had hovered 'twixt life and death. There had been no letters home because he had been too delirious to tell his nurses where to write. At length out of the chaos had come sanity, and now because his wounds were such that he could do no more fighting he had come home to Bellerivre. Monsieur le Cure and Josef were nursing him, and he hoped to join his dear ones in their new home as soon as he was able. It was a wonderful story! Some day, the doctor said, he would regain his strength and be well enough to do some simple work so that he could still earn a livelihood and not be a burden to his family.