"That depends on who the masters are, Waddle."
"What good 'd cum of it if I rebelled again' Mr. Neefit, and told him up to his face as I wouldn't make up the books? He'd only sack me. I find thirty-five bob a week, with two kids and their mother to keep on it, tight enough, Mr. Moggs. If I 'ad the fixing on it, I should say forty bob wasn't over the mark;—I should indeed. But I don't see as I should get it."
"Yes you would;—if you earned it, and stuck to your purpose. But you're a single stick, and it requires a faggot to do this work."
"I never could see it, Mr. Moggs. All the same I do like to hear you talk. It stirs one up, even though one don't just go along with it. You won't let on, you know, to Mr. Neefit as I was there."
"And why not?" said Ontario, turning sharp upon his companion.
"The old gen'leman hates the very name of a strike. He's a'most as bad as your own father, Mr. Moggs."
"You have done his work to-day. You have earned your bread. You owe him nothing."
"That I don't, Mr. Moggs. He'll take care of that."
"And yet you are to stay away from this place, or go to that, to suit his pleasure. Are you Neefit's slave?"
"I'm just the young man in his shop,—that's all."