om, with its
opened windows and drawn Venetian blinds, was most restful.

"Is everything going well, Aaron?" she asked him.

He nodded.

"Better than well. There's a telegram just in from Manchester. We are
bound to win there. Did you read Foley's speech?"

"Yes. Did he mean it all, do you think?" she asked doubtfully.

"Every word," he replied confidently. "We've got it here in black and
white. There has been a commission appointed. Members of the
Government, if you please--nothing less. The masters have got an
ultimatum. If they refuse, Mr. Foley has asked Maraton to frame a
bill. We've got the sketch of it here already. What do you think of
that, Julia?"

"I only wish that I knew," she murmured. "What can have happened to Mr.
Foley?"

"They all do as Maraton bids them!" Aaron ex-claimed triumphantly. "If
only I had four hands! I can't finish, Julia. It's impossible."

She sprang up and tore off her gloves.

"Let me help," she cried eagerly. "You have another typewriter in the
corner there. I can work it, and you know I could always read your
shorthand."

He accepted her help a little grudgingly.

"You must be careful, then," he enjoined, with the air of one who
confers a favour. "There must be no mistakes. Begin here and do those
letters. One carbon copy of each. I'll lift the machine on to the
table for you."

She propped up the book and very soon there was silence in the room,
except for the click of the two typewriters. Presently she stopped
short and uttered a little cry.

"What is it?" he demanded, without looking up from his work.

"This letter to the Secretary of the Unionist Association, Nottingham!"

"Well?"

"Mr. Maraton is to go there Thursday, to address a meeting,--a Unionist
meeting."

Aaron glowered at her from over his typewriter.

"Why not? It's Mr. Foley's idea. He wants Mr. Maraton in Parliament.
Why not?"

"But as a Unionist!" she gasped. "Nottingham isn't a Labour
constituency at all."

"He is coming in as a Unionist, so as to have a
free hand. We don't want any interference from Peter Dale and that
lot."

She looked at him aghast. Peter Dale and his colleagues had been gods a
few weeks ago!

"Can't you see," Aaron continued irritably, "that the coming of Maraton
has changed many things? A man like that can't serve under anybody, and
no man could come as a stranger and lead the Labour Party. He has to be
outside. This is a working man's constituency. He is pledge