"
He had dismounted to speak to her and, holding Bendigo's bridle, had
walked with her to the Harlow residence. He now said, "Good-bye," and
the light of a true, passionate lover was on his face, as he leaped into
the saddle. She watched him out of sight and then went into her home,
and with an inscrutable smile, began to arrange the ferns and bluebells
in a vase of cream-colored wedgewood.
In the meantime John had reached the Hatton mill, and after his long
absence he looked up at it with conscious pride. It was built of brick;
it was ten stories high; every story was full of windows, every story
airy as a bird-cage. Certainly it was not a thing of architectural
beauty, but it was a grandly organized machine where brains and hands,
iron and steel worked together for a common end. As John entered its big
iron gates, he saw bales of cotton going into the mill by one door, and
he knew the other door at which they would come out in the form of woven
calico. In rapid thought he followed them to the upper floors, and then
traveled down with them to the great weaving-rooms in the order their
processes advanced them.
Pages:
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65