But "Haworth's" flourished and grew. The original works were added to, and new hands, being called for, flocked into Broxton with their families. It was Jem Haworth who built the rows of cottages to hold them, and he built them well and substantially, but as a sharp business investment and a matter of pride rather than from any weakness of regarding them from a moral stand-point.
"I'll have no poor jobs done on my place," he announced. "I'll leave that to the gentlemen manufacturers."
It was while in the midst of this work that he received a letter from Gerard Ffrench, who was still abroad.
Going into his room one day Murdoch found him reading it and looking excited.
"Here's a chap as would be the chap for me," he said, "if brass were iron—that chap Ffrench."
"What does he want?" Murdoch asked.
"Naught much," grimly. "He's got a notion of coming back here, and he'd like to go into partnership with me. That's what he's drivin' at. He'd like to be a partner with Jem Haworth."
"What has he to offer?"
"Cheek, and plenty on it. He says his name's well known, and he's got influence as well as practical knowledge. I'd like to have a bit of a talk with him."
Suddenly he struck his fist on the table before him.