The strike was over. Mr. Thornton had been busy – exceedingly so – and mentioned such in a note which had been delivered to the Hales nestled in a generous and delicious basket of fruit. He had not yet come back to read with Mr. Hale and that gentleman was sorely missing his friend's presence. From what rumors and gossip both Dixon and Margaret had been able to glean, Mr. Thornton had led a committee of masters during negotiations with the Union and its committee. Supposedly, the colorful bruises and scars on his face went a long way toward improving the negotiable position of the masters. Like any good compromise, neither side was completely happy but the general consensus appeared to be that the masters had walked away with the superior outcome. Of course, Margaret mused silently, likely the mill owners would say that the Union had procured a more favorable arrangement than themselves. Nevertheless, Mr. Thornton remained fully occupied in reopening his mill and did not come to call on the Hales.

Bessy had been laid to rest and Nicholas Higgins, at Margaret's instigation, had come several times to visit with Mr. Hale ostensibly for consolation. However, it was rapidly becoming apparent that Mr. Hale had found a new mission in which to engage his energies – namely, the spiritual rejuvenation of Bessy's father. The former pastor had been shocked upon their first meeting, as Margaret had described Nicholas in terms that almost bordered on heretical, but Higgins was clearly and firmly not in that camp. He was a questioning sort of fellow who did not merely swallow that which had been forced into his gullet but rather wondered at humankind and equality. Since he had been for his entire life a working man, Nicholas was curious why, if men were all created alike, there were entire classes of individuals who believed themselves to be by birth and lineage above their fellow. Why, he wanted to know, was his blood and that of his brothers less dear than that of the nobility and the wealthy? Mr. Hale, the dissenter with unanswered questions of his own, was more than willing to participate by delving into books from which to derive adequate solutions. Mr. Hale and Nicholas were so engrossed in their philosophical discussions that neither man realized the full extent of their mutual delight in the interchanges. Dixon did not – and could not be brought to – fully approve of 'that working man's presence' in the master's study but she eventually grudgingly accepted Higgins attendance as the results produced were a livelier and less morose Mr. Hale.

One evening as Margaret was settling in with her notepad and pen to translate yet more Dante, there came such a forceful pull on the bell that she was afraid the wires might snap. Before Dixon could engage the latch, Margaret threw the door open and saw the slender silhouette of a man facing the street, his back to Margaret. At the sound of the door opening, he turned and faced the house.

'Is this the Hale residence?' he asked clearly. Margaret stared closely at the person and, with a noise of recognition, she cried, 'Frederick!' She pulled him through the portal and quickly closed the door to prevent any possible sighting of her endangered brother.

'Margaret?' he queried softly then encircled her in a fervent hug.

'Come, Fred, Papa is in the study. He has been hoping for your coming these many weeks but Mama . . . ' and here Margaret faltered, trying hard not to cry, 'Mama is still alive but doing very poorly. She will gain strength from your being here.'

'You did not expect me?'

'No, we haven't received any letter from you. Did you send one?'

'It appears I have arrived before my note. Where should I deposit my bag?' Fred asked, gesturing to the obviously stuffed carpet bag in his hand. Margaret gently guided her brother to their father's study and motioned for him to place the case upon a chair just inside of the opening.

'Papa!' she cried, 'Look who is come!'

Mr. Hale lifted his head from where it had lain upon his desk, blinking blearily at Margaret. 'Child, tell me – is it Frederick?' He worked to focus his weary and troubled eyes on the figure standing in the darkness just behind Margaret. She gathered tapers and lit them so that the room would have illumination and her father would be able to see the beloved features of his eldest child. Both siblings moved toward their father but Fred, the taller and longer-legged, arrived first. Margaret turned to allow them their privacy; such a reunion after such a lengthy absence deserved nothing less. After some minutes, Fred inquired of his sister if he could see Mrs. Hale. She gave him a long, intense look letting him know to be prepared for what he was going to see; he seemed to feel optimistic that his mother could not truly lay dying. Mr. Hale pled fatigue – he did not wish to witness the bittersweet meeting between mother and son. As both siblings ascended the stairs, Fred attempted to cajole and pry details and information out of Margaret on their life in Milton. On reaching Mrs. Hale's sitting room, they were greeted – albeit quietly – by Dixon, who embraced her 'young master' and wept on his shoulder. Margaret waited very patiently while Dixon accompanied Frederick into their mother's bedroom. She could not hear many sounds after an initial exclamation in a masculine voice. There were low voices, halting and soft, and then footsteps heading out of the room, toward Margaret. She looked up and saw her older brother who emerged seemingly hopeful but with tears in his eyes and on his cheeks.

Dixon stepped out after him and shut the door so as not to disturb the invalid and addressed Margaret. 'Miss Margaret, the doctor is due to arrive soon. Perhaps you could escort Master Frederick to his room while Dr. Donaldson is here?'

After adjuring Fred repeatedly to remain silent and out of sight during the visit, Dixon went below stairs and the young people proceeded to Fred's room to acclimate the newcomer to his temporary surroundings.

'It may be selfish but I am very glad that I am come to see Mama. Are you pleased with this Dr. Donaldson? Is his care up to that of London doctors? Should we send for a physician from there?' Fred would have continued but Margaret hushed him and reminded him of Dixon's injunction of silence. She also explained that the doctor had been recommended by Mr. Thornton who had assured them of the man's references.

'And who is this Mr. Thornton that father sees fit to follow his recommendation in a matter of this importance?' asked Frederick curiously. Margaret blushed and then told him how Mr. Thornton was their family's first friend in Milton and of his standing in the community. While speaking thus, she became aware of her brother's scrutiny. He smiled and exclaimed, 'So that is how the wind blows, is it then? I should like to have a look at this Thornton for myself.'

Margaret strongly insisted that he had misunderstood but her efforts only caused Fred to laugh – silently though, in observance of the doctor being below.