were hundreds of cotton ships upon the Atlantic.
John's finished goods were all now in Manchester warehouses, and Greenwood was watching the arrival of cotton and its prices in Liverpool. John had very little money—none in fact that he could use for cotton, but he confidently expected it, though ignorant of any certain cause for expectation.
As he was eating dinner with his mother one day, she said, "Whatever have you sent Greenwood to Liverpool for?"
"To buy any cotton he can."
"But you have no money."
"Simpson and Hager paid me at once for the calicoes I sent them. I shall be getting money every day now."
"Enough?"
"I shall have enough—some way or other—no fear."
"I'll tell you what, John. I can lend you twenty thousand pounds. I'll be glad to do it."
"O mother! Mother! That will be very salvation to me. How good you are! How good you are!" and there was a tone in John's voice that was perhaps entirely fresh and new. It went straight to his mother's heart, and she continued, "I'll give you a check in the morning, John. You are varry, varry welcome, my dear lad."