From where they were they could see the new model dwellings towering high above the maze of roofs around them.
"We'll build them a theatre, John. They shall have poetry and music. We'll plan them recreation grounds where the children can run and play. We'll have a picture gallery and a big bright hall where they can dance."
He broke off suddenly. "Oh, Lord, as if it hadn't all been tried," he groaned. "Two thousand years ago, they thought it might save Rome. Bread and circuses, that is not going to save the world."
They had reached, by chance, Platt's Lane. The door of the workshop stood open as ever. They could hear the sound of Matthew's hammer and see the red glow of the furnace fire. John slipped away from his father's side, and going to the open door called to Matthew.
Matthew turned. There was a strange look in his eyes. The child laughed, and Matthew coming nearer saw who it was.
It was late, so after exchanging just a greeting with Matthew they walked on. Suddenly John caught his father by the sleeve.
"Do you think he is still alive," he said, "Christ Jesus?"
