Hundreds of workers were busy among them.

Greenwood was watching for him.

Clerks were waiting for his directions and the great House of Labor shouted from all its myriad windows.
With a pitiful and involuntary "God help me!" he buckled himself to his mail.

It was larger than ordinary, but he went with exact and patient care over it.

He said to himself, "Troubles love to flock together and I expect I shall find a worrying letter from Harry this morning"; but there was no letter at all from Harry and he felt relieved.