room was suddenly filled with people. They came crowding through the
walls from every side and pressed close to him. Such people he had never
seen: wan, worn, stunted, pinched, starved, joyless. They were all
children, meagerly clothed, badly nourished, ill developed. They were
quite silent. They did not cry. They did not protest. They did not
argue. They did not plead. They did not laugh. They just looked at him.
They made no sound of any sort. He had children of his own and he had
known many children. He had never known so many gathered together
without a smile or a laugh.

His eye wandered around the room. They were very close to him and yet
they did not touch him. He turned to the desk where the lad had sat, but
he was no longer there and yet he well remembered his face. He knew
exactly how he looked. He turned to the nearest child and in some
strange way, although the poor, wretched face had not changed, his look
suggested the lad who had been his first visitor. He turned to another
and another. They all looked back at him in the same way with the same
eyes.

He threw his head up again and saw the castle of success of which he had
dreamed. He looked down again. This was the foundation. Slowly his hand
went to the desk. The little crowding figures drew back to give him
freedom of movement as he stretched his hand out for a telegraph-blank.
He drew it to him. He seized a pen and wrote rapidly:

"Build no more mills, take the children out of those already in
operation, put men in their places. We will be content with less profit
in the future."

He read over the telegram. The telephone was close at hand. He called up
the telegraph-office, dictated it and directed it to be sent
immediately. He had been so engrossed in this task that he had noticed
nothing else. Now he looked up. The room was still filled with children,
but they were all laughing. It was a soundless laugh, and yet he heard
it. And then the room was empty save for the child he had seen first and
vaguely. He had

William Babington Maxwell (18661938) was a British novelist. He was a son of novelist Mary Elizabeth Braddon. Though nearly 50 years old at the outbreak of the First World War, he was accepted as a lieutenant in the Royal Fusiliers and served in France until 1917.

Cyrus Townsend Brady (December 20, 1861 January 24, 1920) was a journalist, historian and adventure writer. His most well-known work is Indian Fights and Fighters. He was born in Allegheny, Pennsylvania, and graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy in 1883. He was also a deacon in the Episcopal church. His first wife was Clarissa Guthrie, who died in 1890. His second wife was Mary Barrett.

Rebecca Sophia Clarke (1833-1906), also known as Sophie May, was an American author of childrens fiction. Using her nieces and nephews as inspiration, she wrote realistic stories about children. She wrote 45 books between 1860 and 1903. The most popular being the Little Prudy books. She lived most of her life in her native town of Norridgewock, Maine, where she lived out her life with her sister, who was also a successful author.