“Those are strong reasons. But, on the other hand, your life is no longer in danger; and your livelihood is not gone; for, to speak plainly, I came over here the moment I heard you were discharged, to ask if you would enter my service on the same terms as Mr. Cheetham gave you, only guineas instead of pounds.”
“What, turn doctor?”
“Oh dear, no; the doctors' Union would forbid that. No, Mr. Little, I am going to ask you to pay me a compliment; to try my service blindfold for one week. You can leave it if you don't like it; but give me one week's trial.”
“How can I refuse you that?” said Henry, hanging his head. “You have been a good friend to me. But, sir, mark my words, this place will be my destruction. Well, when am I to begin work?”
“To-morrow, at ten.”
“So be it,” said Henry, wearily, then left the works and went home; but, as he went, he said to himself. “It is not my doing.” And his double-faced heart glowed and exulted secretly.
He told his mother how the Trades had beaten him, and he was out of work.
Mrs. Little consoled him hypocritically. She was delighted. Then he told her his departure had been delayed by Dr. Amboyne: that made her look a little anxious.
“One question, dear: now the Union has beaten you, they will not be so spiteful, will they?”
“Oh, no. That is all over. The conquerors can afford to be good-natured. Confound them!”