“Still my conscience troubled me, but for all that I don’t think I would have yielded.  Pride, the greatest of all stumbling-blocks, was in my way.  Reaching home, I learned that Dollie was lost; then, of course, every other thought went from my head.  Nothing else could be done until she was found.”

Harvey was about to tell his guest his suspicion that he had had a hand in the abduction of the child, but he was ashamed, and really there was no call for such a confession.

“Well, it was you who found her.  I repeat that my debt to you can never be paid.  And yet I do not believe that that obligation would have led me to yield, where I felt that a principle was at stake.  It was the words of Dollie, spoken yesterday, that stuck to me.  They kept me awake most of the night and played a part in the dreams that I had about her being lost in the woods and eaten up by panthers and all sorts of creatures.  When I awoke this morning, the mists had cleared away.  I saw my error, and fully made up my mind to do all I could to correct it.  I went to the telegraph office before breakfast and sent a message to Vining countermanding the order for the men.  Then I came back and had just finished my meal when a message was brought to my house.  Odd, wasn’t it?”

“I see nothing odd in a telegram for you.”

“I mean in the telegram itself.”

“I could not answer that unless I saw it.”

“Of course,” said Harvey with a laugh, wheeling about in his chair and picking up one of the yellow slips of paper which the Western Union furnishes its patrons gratis.

“There, read that,” he added, passing it to Hugh O’Hara, who looked at it with no little curiosity.

It was dated in the city of New York and signed by Johnson W. Bradley, father of Harvey, and President of the Rollo Mills Company.  This was the body of the telegram: 

“Don’t lose sight of the interests of your men.  Before hiring other hands try arbitration.”

“That is rather odd,” said Hugh; leaning forward, so as to hand the telegram back to his employer, “but it is sound wisdom all the same.”

“Undoubtedly; but are you convinced that I agree to your terms not because of gratitude, but because I believe them right?”

“I am satisfied,” said Hugh; “have you sent the notice to the hands?”

“Yes.  I wonder that you did not hear of it on the way here.”

Hugh smiled.

“Of course I heard of it.  I knew it long ago, but I did not know why you had decided to restore our time to what it was and to pay the same wages; that I have learned from yourself.  And now that you have done your part so well,” added Hugh, rising to leave, “I assure you that we shall do ours; we shall give you the best service we can.  No one shall misinterpret your action or try to take advantage of it.”

The superintendent was wise enough to avoid a mistake to which persons, placed as was he, are liable—­that is, he did not overdo his part.  He was so happy over the return of his little sister that he was willing not only to give the old wages and time asked for by his employes, but he felt like adding to them.  He meant to make the pay of O’Hara greater than before, but changed his purpose at the last moment.