, as if
a prayer from her very heart for all who were in distress, in the grand
supplication, »Lord, remember David.« Mary held her breath, unwilling to lose a
note, it was so clear, so perfect, so imploring. A far more correct musician
than Mary might have paused with equal admiration of the really scientific
knowledge with which the poor depressed-looking young needlewoman used her
superb and flexile voice. Deborah Travis herself (once an Oldham factory girl,
and afterwards the darling of fashionable crowds as Mrs. Knyvett) might have
owned a sister in her art.
    She stopped; and with tears of holy sympathy in her eyes, Alice thanked the
songstress, who resumed her calm, demure manner, much to Mary's wonder, for she
looked at her unweariedly, as if surprised that the hidden power should not be
perceived in the outward appearance.
    When Alice's little speech of thanks was over, there was quiet enough to
hear a fine, though rather quavering, male voice, going over again one or two
strains of Margaret's song.
    »That's grandfather!« exclaimed she. »I must be going, for he said he should
not be at home till past nine.«
    »Well, I'll not say nay, for I have to be up by four for a very heavy wash
at Mrs. Simpson's; but I shall be terrible glad to see you again at any time,
lasses; and I hope you'll take to one another.«
    As the girls ran up the cellar steps together, Margaret said - »Just step
in, and see grandfather, I should like him to see you.«
    And Mary consented.
 

                                   Chapter V

                  The Mill on Fire - Jem Wilson to the Rescue

 »Learned he was; nor bird, nor insect flew,
 But he its leafy home and history knew:
 Nor wild-flower decked the rock, nor moss the well,
 But he its name and qualities could tell.«
                                                                        Elliott.
 
There is a class of men in Manchester, unknown even to many of the inhabitants,
and whose existence will probably be doubted by many, who yet may claim kindred
with all the noble names that science recognises. I said in Manchester, but they
are scattered all over the manufacturing districts of Lancashire. In the
neighbourhood of Oldham there are weavers, common hand-loom weavers, who throw
the shuttle with unceasing sound, though Newton's Principia lies open on the
loom, to be snatched at in work hours, but revelled over in meal times, or