Halloran heard her through, then he went directly up-stairs. Mr. Higginson's room was dimly lighted, and it was a moment before his eyes could distinguish clearly; but when he finally made out the thin figure propped up on the bed he was shocked at the change the sickness had wrought. “Sit down,” Mr. Higginson was saying. “Tell me what this means.” His voice was tremulous with feeling. “What is this they have been telling me about closing the mills?” “It is true. I have arranged to shut down Saturday night.” “True, is it?” The lean old figure stirred on its pillows; the thin fingers closed tightly on a fold of the bedclothes. “Do you know what you are saying, man?” “We can't afford to pay men for doing nothing, Mr. Higginson.” “Do you realize what this means?” The old man raised himself on his elbow; he found it difficult to control his voice. “Do you know that I brought those men here, that I have supported some of them for thirty years? Do you think they can be cast off to starve? Why didn't you come to me with this? What do you mean by settling it out of hand?” “I haven't been allowed to see you.” “Not been allowed! Is this a conspiracy? There's some meaning to this, Halloran. I insist upon knowing it. Do you mean that I have got to the end? Have we lost?” The last few words were spoken with a sudden return to calmness; but his eyes were shining. “No, not at all. I think we shall win.” “You think!--for God's sake, Halloran, speak out and have it over with. What's the matter--what has happened?” Halloran came over and sat on the edge of the bed where he could talk in a quiet voice; “We have not lost, Mr. Higginson, and what's more, we aren't going to lose. Bigelow's people have got to keep on selling below cost until something happens. We certainly couldn't go on running full- handed without a cent of income. By shutting down we can hold out longer than they can. It's hard on the men, but it is hard on the rest of us, too. It's the only way we can meet them.” Even a sick man could see the soundness of this. And somehow the presence of his manager, with his air of health and confidence, went a long ways toward restoring, for the moment, the balance of Mr. Higginson's mind. He fell back on the pillows, unstrung after his excitement, but somewhat relieved. Halloran said good-night and went downstairs. Mamie heard his step and, leaving Crosman in the sitting-room, she met him in the hall. “I meant to tell you not to come down yet,” she said with lowered eyes. “Ma said that she wanted to see you when you came in. I'll go ahead if you don't mind.” He followed her to another upstairs room, where he found Mrs. Higginson on a couch, dressed in the daintiest of lace-trimmed dressing-sacks. She looked up when he entered and motioned wearily to a chair. “It is kind of you to come,” she said. “Mamie, dear, won't you get me my heavy shawl?” Mamie, understanding, left the room and did not hurry back.