r all of us, and for Brisport too.
For three years we have been losing money over the works. We held on in
the hope of a change coming, but matters are going from bad to worse.
There's nothing for it but to give it up before the balance of our
fortune is swallowed up. I hope you may all be able to get work of some
sort before very long. Good-bye, and God bless you!"

"God bless you, sir! God bless you!" cried a chorus of rough voices.
"Three cheers for Mr. Charles Fairbairn!" shouted a bright-eyed, smart
young fellow, springing up upon a bench and waving his peaked cap in the
air. The crowd responded to the call, but their huzzas wanted the true
ring which only a joyous heart can give. Then they began to flock out
into the sunlight, looking back as they went at the long deal tables and
the cork-strewn floor--above all at the sad-faced, solitary man,
whose cheeks were flecked with colour at the rough cordiality of their
farewell.

"Huxford," said the cashier, touching on the shoulder the young fellow
who had led the cheering; "the governor wants to speak to you."

The workman turned back and stood swinging his cap awkwardly in front of
his ex-employer, while the crowd pushed on until the doorway was clear,
and the heavy fog-wreaths rolled unchecked into the deserted factory.

"Ah, John!" said Mr. Fairbairn, coming suddenly out of his reverie and
taking up a letter from the table. "You have been in my service since
you were a boy, and you have shown that you merited the trust which I
have placed in you. From what I have heard I think I am right in saying
that this sudden want of work will affect your plans more than it will
many of my other hands."

"I was to be married at Shrovetide," the man answered, tracing a pattern
upon the table with his horny forefinger. "I'll have to find work
first."

"And work, my poor fellow, is by no means easy to find. You see you have
been in this groove all your life, and are unfit for anything else.
It's true you've been my foreman, but even that won't help you, for
the factories all over England are discharging hands, and there's not a
vacancy to be had. It's a bad outlook for you and such as you."

"What would you advise, then, sir?" asked John Huxford.

"That's what I was coming to. I have a letter here from Sheridan and
Moore, of Montreal, asking for a good hand to take charge of a workroom.
If you think it will suit you, you can go out by the next boat. The
wages are far in