"Yes," assented Von Barwig, who began to perceive for the first time that his visitors had come on a matter of more or less serious Import.
"Well," began Schwarz, "you've got to hold off for the present."
"I do not understand," said Von Barwig.
"You've got to throw up the job," broke in Mr. Ryan, emphasising the statement by allowing his walking stick to fall heavily on a pile of music which lay on the piano.
Von Barwig looked at him but did not speak.
"You can't go on," said Schwarz.
"Not while scabs are working there," added Mr. Ryan sententiously.
Von Barwig tried to speak but could not; words would not come. His heart had almost stopped beating. Finally he managed to gasp, "What does it mean; all this?"
"Our association has been notified that Van Praag is having his new music hall built with non-union bricks, and——"
"Scabs," broke in Mr. Ryan, once more banging the inoffensive music with his stick. "Scabs! We called out our men and they put in scab carpenters. The carpenters went out and the plumbers have gone out; they've all gone out, and now it's only fair—that—you should go out. Stick together and we'll win; in other words, 'united we stand, divided we fall.' Am I right, Schwarz?"