'Think you shall wear your white silk tonight?' nervously inquired Mrs. Hale of her daughter. 'Are you sure it will fit? Your cousin's wedding was nearly a year ago.'

'Yes, mamma. It was made by my aunt's best woman so I'm sure it is still right. It may be a bit tight or loose, depending upon if I have grown fat or thin but I don't think I have changed in the least.'

Mrs. Hale was not satisfied. The idea of Margaret dressing up and going to the Thornton's dinner had taken hold of her mind and she would not let it go, like a dog gnawing on a favored bone. 'Perhaps it has gone yellow in storage?'

Margaret was amused by her mother's anxiety but decided to placate her. 'If so, I have a very nice pink gauze which Aunt Shaw gave me two or three months before Edith's wedding. That cannot have gone yellow.'

'It may have faded?'

'Well then, I have the green silk.'

'I wish I knew what you were to wear,' Mrs. Hale said anxiously. Margaret saw that her mother was truly uneasy, so she offered to put the dresses on, one after another, so that Mrs. Hale could resolve upon the best one. After a time, Mrs. Hale hit upon the white silk with her sister's – Mrs. Shaw's – coral necklace to add color else, in Dixon's words, 'Miss Margaret would have been too pale.' Margaret's black, silky hair was too thick to be braided so it was twisted up around her head, like a crown, and then secured at the back of her head with two coral hair pins.

'Oh, Margaret! How I should like to be going with you to one of the old Barrington assemblies, taking you as Lady Beresford used to take me.' Margaret kissed her mother for this little burst of maternal vanity; but she could hardly smile at it, she felt so much out of spirits with worry for her mother.

'I would rather stay at home with you, much rather, mamma.'

'Nonsense, darling! Be sure you notice the dinner well. I shall like to hear how they manage these things in Milton. Particularly the second course, dear. Look what they have instead of game.'

Margaret descended the steps to her father's study and he declared her beautiful; now they might go. Mr. Hale was fretful about being punctual to his friend's home so they were the first guests to arrive.

Mrs. Hale would have been more than interested -she would have been astonished - if she had seen the sumptuousness of the dinner-table and its appointments. Margaret, with her London cultivated taste, felt the number of delicacies to be oppressive. One half of the quantity would have been enough, and the effect lighter and more elegant but it was one of Mrs. Thornton's rigorous laws of hospitality that of each separate dainty enough should be provided for all the guests to partake, if they felt inclined. it was part of her pride to set a feast before such of her guests as cared for it. Her son shared this feeling. He had never known-though he might have imagined, and had the capability to relish-any kind of society but that which depended on an exchange of superb meals and even now, though he was denying himself the personal expenditure of an unnecessary sixpence, and had more than once regretted that the invitations for this dinner had been sent out. There was, as yet, no one in the drawing room other than Mrs. Thornton and Fanny. The covers had been taken off of the room and it blazed in yellow damask and flowered carpet. Mrs. Thornton stood to greet Margaret and father with a slight rustle of silk.

'Mr. Hale, Miss Hale. I am glad to see you were able to attend. My son was engaged until the last moment on business but he will be here directly. May I offer you a seat?'

Mr. Hale had been standing near a window during this speech and perusing the now quiet mill yard. He turned and asked, 'Do you not find such close proximity to the mill unpleasant sometimes?'

Mrs. Thornton drew herself up to her full height and replied with great dignity, 'I have not grown so comfortable with riches to forget where it came from. Besides, this is one of the finest mills in all Milton.'

'I merely meant that the smoke, the noise, the comings and goings of the laborers at all hours – might be annoying.'

'Mr. Hale, I have heard noise that was called music far more deafening. The engine-room is at the street-end of the factory; we hardly hear it, except in summer weather, when all the windows are open; and as for the continual murmur of the work-people, it disturbs me no more than the humming of a hive of bees. If I think of it at all, I connect it with my son, and feel how all belongs to him, and that his is the head that directs it. Just now, there are no sounds to come from the mill; the hands have been ungrateful enough to turn out, as perhaps you have heard.'

Her countenance darkened into anger at this statement and it did not lighten when Mr. Thornton entered the room. She saw that her son was still oppressed by care and anxiety but their guests received a cordial and pleasant greeting. He shook hands with Mr. Hale and Margaret ad inquired as to Mrs. Hale's health. He noticed the worried strain upon her face, which she was endeavoring to hide. As he looked with this intention, he was struck anew with her great beauty. He had never seen her in such dress before and yet now it appeared as if such elegance of attire was so befitting her noble figure and lofty serenity of countenance that she ought to go always thus appareled. She was talking to Fanny; about what, he could not hear; but he saw his sister's restless way of continually arranging some part of her gown, her wandering eyes, now glancing here, now there, but without any purpose in her observation; and he contrasted them uneasily with the large soft, grey eyes that looked forth steadily at one object, as if from out their light beamed some gentle influence of repose: the curving lines of the red lips, just parted in the interest of listening to what her companion said-the head a little bent forwards, so as to make a long sweeping line from the summit, where the light caught on the glossy raven hair, to the smooth ivory tip of the shoulder; the round white arms, and taper hands, laid lightly across each other, but perfectly motionless in their pretty attitude. Mr. Thornton sighed as he took in all this with one of his sudden comprehensive glances. And then he turned his back to the young ladies, and threw himself, with an effort, but with all his heart and soul, into a conversation with Mr. Hale.

More and more people came and Margaret was left unattended. She herself did not notice as she was busy and amused watching and listening to the company. A gentleman escorted her to dinner – she did not catch his name. The men were conversing loudly and Margaret caught a part of it. She became attentive and grew interested. Mr. Horsfall, a stranger to town, was asking questions pertaining to mills and manufacturing and trade and the masters were responding with explanations. A dispute arose – of what topic Margaret was unsure – and the question was put to Mr. Thornton to decide. Margaret's attention was thus called to her host; his whole manner as master of the house and entertainer of his friends was so straightforward, yet simple and modest, as to be thoroughly dignified. Margaret thought she had never seen him to so much advantage. When he had come to their house, there had been always something, either of over-eagerness or of that kind of vexed annoyance which seemed ready to pre-suppose that he was unjustly judged, and yet felt too proud to try and make himself better understood. But now, among his fellows, there was no uncertainty as to his position. He was regarded by them as a man of great force of character; of power in many ways. There was no need to struggle for their respect. He had it, and he knew it; and the security of this gave a fine grand quietness to his voice and ways, which Margaret had missed before.

She was surprised that she had enjoyed the dinner, particularly the discussion – and she took a very decided, if silent, position in the ongoing one. The strike was not spoken of, which was confusing, but Margaret did not yet know that the masters were not troubled about it. In their thinking, there was only one outcome and the hands were cutting their own throats by their striking. She was contemplating the exchange when Mr. Thornton spoke suddenly at her side.

'I could see you were on our side in the conversation at dinner, were you not?'

Margaret answered, 'Certainly, but I know so little of it. I was surprised, however, to find from what Mr. Horsfall said, that there were others who thought in so diametrically opposite a manner, as the Mr. Morison he spoke about. Is he a gentleman?'

'I do not know this Mr. Morison and can only judge him from Mr. Horsfall's account. However, it seems to me that he is not a true man.'

Margaret glanced at him curiously but then said, 'Have you given consideration to our discussion of yesterday?'

Mr. Thornton's face changed, tightened ever so slightly and he replied, 'I cannot speak of it now but when I next visit your father, we could address the topic.'

Margaret thought a moment, but before she could speak her slow conviction, he was called away by some of the eager manufacturers, whose speeches she could not hear, though she could guess at their import by the short clear answers Mr. Thornton gave, which came steady and firm as the boom of a distant minute gun. They were evidently talking of the turn-out, and suggesting what course had best be pursued. She heard Mr. Thornton say:

'That has been done.' Then came a hurried murmur, in which two or three joined.

'All those arrangements have been made.'

Some doubts were implied, some difficulties named by Mr. Slickson, who took hold of Mr. Thornton's arm as Margaret watched, the better to impress his words. Mr. Horsfall came over to converse with Mr. Thornton, Margaret assumed on the same subject, but he in fact was asking about her. Mrs. Slickson was asking Fanny that same thing. Fanny replied that Margaret's father was a tutor who taught even her brother, John, but responded in the way of those who take the 'ought to' of others to be their rule.