he persistently chose it--"get thee forth
into their midst, and whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy
might." John instinctively followed this advice, so that even his
employees noticed his diligence and watchfulness about everything going
on.

In the earliest days of April when spring was making the world fresh and
lovely and filling the balmy air with song, John thought of the home for
himself that he would build and he determined to see the man who was to
dig the foundation that night. He had just received a letter from Jane,
and she said she was weary of London, and longing to be with her dear
mother at Harlow House, or indeed anywhere that would allow her to see
him every day. A very little kindness went a long way with John and such
words lying near his heart made him wonderfully happy. And because he
was happy he was exceedingly busy. Even Greenwood did not trouble him
with observations; and official conversation was reduced to
monosyllables. People came in and left papers and went out without a
word; and there was a pressure on John to "do whatsoever his hand found
to do with all his might."

Suddenly the door was flung open with unrestricted force and noise and
John raised his head to reprove the offender. Instead of this, he rose
from his chair and with open arms took his brother to his heart. "Why,
Harry!" he cried. "Mother will be glad to see you. I was thinking of you
while I dressed myself this morning. When did you reach England?"

"I got to London three days ago."

"Never! I wouldn't tell mother that! She will think you ought to have
been at Hatton three days ago."

"I had to look after Lucy, first thing. I found her, John, in Bradford
in a sad state."

"I don't understand you, Harry."

"Her father had left her with a very strict aunt, and she was made to do
things she never had done--work about the house, you know--and she
looked ill and sorrowful and my heart ached for her. Her father was away
from her, and she thought I had forgotten her. The dear little woman! I
married her the next day."

"Henry Hatton! What are you saying?"

"I married there and then, as it were. It was my duty to do so."

"It was your will. There was no duty in it."

"Call it what you like, John. She is now my wife and I expect you and
mother will remember this."

"You are asking too much of mother."

"You said you would stand by me in this matter."

"I thought you would behave with some consideratio