brick, of a Moorish type of architecture; the grounds were terraced, in green, well-kept lawns that seemed to thrive in spite of smoke and dirt. In the block below were six smaller yellow brick houses, also of a Moorish type of architecture—smaller, and yet large, and each having its own spacious grass plot. In these dwelt the superintendents of the largest mills. One block lower down there were ten yellow brick houses of very respectable size, occupied by the lesser superintendents. Then, above and below, came houses of wood, for the foremen and rollers and melters, more numerous, all pretty much of a pattern, all prosperous looking. Beyond these were smaller houses still, dwindling down to the wretched two-room hovels, painted red or whitewashed, which clung just outside the high board fence that marked the mill inclosure.
The town was full of monuments to Colonel Halket's beneficence. Above the general superintendent's house rose the Halket Free Public Library, again of yellow brick, though of a subdued Moorishness. In one wing of it was an auditorium, in another, dub-rooms and a gymnasium. The Halket Hotel stood at the bottom of the hill, opposite the company's office. Halket Park was a large inclosed field adjoining the mill inclosure; a baseball ground was laid out here, and it held two stands for spectators.
New Rome was a model town. And now, walking along its streets, confronting it and the problem it presented to him, Floyd felt depressed, for the first time since he had been brought up to meet this problem.
His grandfather had created the place and the industry; his was the honor and his had been the joy of creation. And for the grandson, what was left? Nothing except to stand ready with a hand to guide or restrain, and let the great machine run itself. The whole organization was complete and efficient, and merely to be occupied with maintaining it seemed a tame and languid task.