HELEN OF THE OLD HOUSE

CONTENTS


BOOK ONE

THE INTERPRETER


CHAPTER

I. THE HUT ON THE CLIFF

II. LITTLE MAGGIE'S PRINCESS LADY

III. THE INTERPRETER

IV. PETER MARTIN AT HOME

V. ADAM WARD'S ESTATE

VI. ON THE OLD ROAD

VII. THE HIDDEN THING

VIII. WHILE THE PEOPLE SLEEP

IX. THE MILL

X. CONCERNING THE NEW MANAGER

XI. COMRADES

XII. TWO SIDES OF A QUESTION


BOOK TWO

THE TWO HELENS


XIII. THE AWAKENING

XIV. THE WAY BACK

XV. AT THE OLD HOUSE

XVI. HER OWN PEOPLE

XVII. IN THE NIGHT


BOOK THREE

THE STRIKE


XVIII. THE GATHERING STORM

XIX. ADAM WARD'S WORK

XX. THE PEOPLE'S AMERICA

XXI. PETER MARTIN'S PROBLEM

XXII. OLD FRIENDS

XXIII. A LAST CHANCE

XXIV. THE FLATS

XXV. McIVER's OPPORTUNITY

XXVI. AT THE CALL OF THE WHISTLE

XXVII. JAKE VODELL'S MISTAKE

XXVIII. THE MOB AND THE MILL

XXIX. CONTRACTS


BOOK FOUR

THE OLD HOUSE


XXX. "JEST LIKE THE INTERPRETER SAID"




BOOK I

THE INTERPRETER


"_Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields_."




CHAPTER I

THE HUT ON THE CLIFF


No well informed resident of Millsburgh, when referring to the
principal industry of his little manufacturing city, ever says "the
mills"--it is always "the Mill."

The reason for this common habit of mind is that one mill so
overshadows all others, and so dominates the industrial and civic life
of this community, that in the people's thought it stands for all.

The philosopher who keeps the cigar stand on the corner of Congress
Street and Ward Avenue explained it very clearly when he answered an
inquiring stranger, "You just can't think Millsburgh without thinkin'
mills; an' you can't think mills without thinkin' _the_ Mill."

As he turned from the cash register to throw his customer's change on
the scratched top of the glass show case, the philosopher added with a
grin that was a curious blend of admiration, contempt and envy, "An'
you just can't think the Mill without thinkin' Adam Ward."

That grin was another distinguishing mark of the well informed resident
of Millsburgh. Always, in those days, when the citizens mentioned the
owner of the Mill, their faces took on that curious half-laughing
expression of mingled admiration, contempt and envy.

But it has come to pass that in these days when the people speak of
Adam Ward they do not smile. When they speak of Adam Ward's daughter,
Helen, they smile, indeed, but with quite a different meaning.

The history of Millsburgh is not essentially different from that of a
thousand other cities of its class.

Born of the natural resources of the hills and forests, the first rude
mill was located on that wide sweeping bend of the river. About this
industrial beginning a settlement gathered. As the farm lands of the
valley were developed, the railroad came, bringing more mills. And so
the town grew up around its smoky heart.