"There's something I wanted to tell you, Miss Dorothy," said Tom, after a lull in the conversation which both felt to be embarrassing. "Well?" "You see, Miss Dorothy, I shall be of age soon." "Really! Well that seems to me a thing you need not look so solemn about. It happens to everyone, more or less, if they live long enough. I shall be of age myself someday, I dare say, but I will try to bear it submissively, if not cheerfully. You'll get over it, Tom. You may even in time get used to it." "Yes, but it will make a great difference to me. For one thing my apprenticeship to your uncle will be at an end." "Oh!" said Dorothy, "Well, I should think you'll be glad of that. Uncle is sure to want you to stop on at the mill--I know he thinks well of you." "It is very good of him" said Tom and smiled as he thought of the day when his master had lifted his riding whip in quick, passionate anger. But that was long gone bye. "But I don't think I shall stop on, in fact I'm sure I shan't." "You won't leave Holmfirth, will you, Tom?" and she was surprised at the interest with which she awaited his reply. "You see," said Tom, slowly, and colouring as if he were confessing to a crime "I've had a bit of money left and Ben and me, that is Ben and I." "Oh! bother the grammar" cried Dorothy. "Ben and me's going into partnership, and there's a little mill at Hinchliffe Mill where we can get room and power. Higher up the river, you know. We will try not to send you more dye-water down stream than we can help. I shall always think when I draw the plugs that the water will pass your window, Miss Dorothy." Tom was distinctly improving. "It's a great venture," said Dorothy gravely. "A very great venture. I don't mean so much for you, you have all life before you, but for Ben, and what hurts Ben will hurt Lucy. You see other people besides you can think of Lucy." Now there was a piece of malice here, but Dorothy thought she could now cry quits. "Yes, it's a venture, Miss Dorothy, a great venture. It is one that perhaps would never have been made if you had never called me 'Mr. Pinder,' so don't throw cold water on our scheme. But it isn't just that I wanted to talk about. There's something more." "'Pon my word, Tom, you're worse than the brook. The teachers have come and the teachers have gone, but you go on for ever. But in for a penny, in for a pound. What more is there?" "Well, Ben and I have talked it over and over. Don't think me a Pharisee, Miss Dorothy, but we're going to try to run the mill on new lines." "H'm; that sounds like adding venture to venture, doesn't it?" "Perhaps: you see, Ben and I both belong to the working class." Dorothy bent her head in a somewhat hesitating assent. "I suppose so," she said. "And we know something of what working folk have to put up with, how hard they have to work, and how little they often get in return."