“No, no. Not quite so bad as that.”
“What,” said Henry, roughly, “do you mean to say you are old Smitem?”
“That is a name FOOLS give me.”
Henry had no reply ready, and so the sturdy old secretary got the better of him again, and went his way unruffled.
Henry scolded Bayne for not telling him. Bayne excused himself on the ground that he thought everybody knew Grotait. He added, “He knew you, and told me if he could serve you, without being unjust to the Trades, I was to tell him.”
Henry replied to this only by a snort of defiance, and bade him good-night.
The next day and the next were spent in other works, and then Henry, having no more facts to learn, fell into deep dejection again. He saw he must either cheat Dr. Amboyne, by shamming work, or else must leave Hillsborough.
He had the honesty to go to the doctor and say that he had mastered the whole matter, and didn't see his way to take any more wages from a friend.
“You mean you have mastered the broad facts.”
“I have, sir, and they are beyond belief; especially the file-cutters. They are the most numerous of all the Trades, and die like sheep. If your notion about Life, Labor, and Capital is right, the Trades are upside down; for the deadliest are the worst paid.”