"Better than well. There's a telegram just in from Manchester. We are bound to win there. Did you read Foley's speech?"
"Yes. Did he mean it all, do you think?" she asked doubtfully.
"Every word," he replied confidently. "We've got it here in black and white. There has been a commission appointed. Members of the Government, if you please—nothing less. The masters have got an ultimatum. If they refuse, Mr. Foley has asked Maraton to frame a bill. We've got the sketch of it here already. What do you think of that, Julia?"
"I only wish that I knew," she murmured. "What can have happened to Mr.
Foley?"
"They all do as Maraton bids them!" Aaron ex-claimed triumphantly. "If only I had four hands! I can't finish, Julia. It's impossible."
She sprang up and tore off her gloves.
"Let me help," she cried eagerly. "You have another typewriter in the corner there. I can work it, and you know I could always read your shorthand."
He accepted her help a little grudgingly.
"You must be careful, then," he enjoined, with the air of one who confers a favour. "There must be no mistakes. Begin here and do those letters. One carbon copy of each. I'll lift the machine on to the table for you."
She propped up the book and very soon there was silence in the room, except for the click of the two typewriters. Presently she stopped short and uttered a little cry.