He wanted to see his wife. He knew he must say some
plain, hard words to her; but she loved him, and she would surely listen
and understand how hard it was for him to say them.
He went early to the mill. He hoped there might be a letter there for
him. When he found none among his mail, he hurried back to his home.
"Jane would send her letter there," he thought. But there was no letter
there. Then his heart sank within him, but he took no further step at
that hour. Business from hundreds of looms called him. Hundreds of
workers were busy among them. Greenwood was watching for him. Clerks
were waiting for his directions and the great House of Labor shouted
from all its myriad windows.
With a pitiful and involuntary "God help me!" he buckled himself to his
mail. It was larger than ordinary, but he went with exact and patient
care over it. He said to himself, "Troubles love to flock together and I
expect I shall find a worrying letter from Harry this morning"; but
there was no letter at all from Harry and he felt relieved.
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