It was nearly a week after the visit of Russett & Tan to the factory, that the foreman entered the office where Messrs. Hyde and Horne sat discussing the probable result, with their men, of a cut in wages, all around.
“The men will stand it,” Hyde was saying. “They know winter is coming on, work is scarce, and times are dull. A cut of ten or fifteen cents a day, all round the workshops, would mean a clear gain to us of nearly nine hundred dollars a month. That would go a long way towards putting in another cutting machine, and then we could get rid of another lot of men.”
“It’ll come rather hard on them,” said Horne. “The workingman is always making a poor mouth, and this will be something new for them to howl about.”
“They’ll have to howl,” was Hyde’s rejoinder. “I’m sorry for them, but business is business. We’ve got the start of the trade now, and must keep it. Russett & Tan will begin to press us close when they put in their new machinery. I’m glad we secured the cutter when we did. Thank heaven, machines can’t strike, anyway.”
It was just at this juncture that the foreman entered.
“What is it, Graves?” asked Mr. Hyde.
“Beg pardon, sir, but there’s something the matter with the big cutter. It’s stopped.”
“What seems to be the matter?” asked Horne. “Anything broken? Why doesn’t the engineer attend to it? Where’s Johnson? I thought it was his business to look after the machine.”
“He has gone over it very carefully,” the foreman replied, “and can find nothing wrong. The gearing seems in perfect order,—the engine’s all right,—we’ve examined every bearing, but we can’t discover the trouble.”
“Curious,”—“very singular,” said Hyde and Horne in a breath, and both partners repaired to the cutting department, to study the great machine.