"Speak, dear, what is it?"
"You know the wicked man in the woods waiting to kill you? Well, he said his wife and babies were starving. Please don't put him in prison."
"But, Nelly," said Mr. Willard, very kindly, "you know this man has done very wrong. It is he and others like him who stir up discontent among the factory people and cause these terrible 'strikes,' which only end in keeping them idle for weeks, until they grow so miserable that dreadful crimes are committed."
"Yes, but I want you to forgive them. Some people say they are very reasonable in what they want this time, and you can do it just this once. They are so poor and wretched and hungry. Please, please do!"
Mr. Willard kissed her. "Well, Nelly," he said, "I promise. The work-people shall have their own way, and Bill shall go unpunished. Now what shall I give you?"
"Nothing, thank you," answered Nelly, slipping from his arms. "I must go home, for mamma doesn't know where I am. Good-by, Mr. Willard; I thank you ever so much for your promise."
"Good-by, Nelly. Now kiss me, and take care of yourself until I see you again."
Next morning when the factory bells rang out, it was known all over Windham that the working people were to go to work on their own terms. Mr. Willard had given in. Once more the doors were flung open, black smoke rushed from the chimneys, the machinery hummed and buzzed, and busy, cheerful forms could be seen hurrying to and fro.
But a day or two later a meeting of the factory people was called, and then the story was told that Mr. Willard had yielded, not to the demands of Bill and his fellows, but to the prayer of a little girl who had forgiven the men who murdered her father, and who could not be content to see them suffer.
Not long after, Mr. Willard called on Nelly's mother, and sat talking with her for a long while. As he took his leave he put a folded paper in Mrs. Austin's hand, telling her there was something for Nelly. After he was gone Mrs. Austin opened the paper and called Nelly to her.