“I believe it’s the machines more than the Corn Laws that have shut up the Temple,” said Harriet. “Machines, indeed! Fancy preferring a piece of iron or wood to your own flesh and blood. And they call that Christianlike!”
“It is Saturday,” said Julia, “sure enough; and if I don’t lie in bed to-morrow till sunset, may I get a bate ticket for every day for a week to come.”
“Well, go it my hearty,” said Mick to Devilsdust. “It is Saturday, that they have all agreed.”
“And to-morrow is Sunday,” said Devilsdust solemnly. “And the next day is the blackest day in all the week,” said Julia. “When I hear the factory bell on Monday morning, I feel just the same as I did when I crossed with my uncle from Liverpool to Seaton to eat shrimps. Wasn’t I sick coming home, that’s all!”
“You won’t hear that bell sound next Monday,” said Devilsdust solemnly.
“You don’t mean that?” said Julia.
“Why, what’s the matter?” said Caroline. “Is the Queen dead?”
“No bell on Monday morning,” said Mrs Carey, incredulously.
“Not a single ring if all the Capitalists in Mowbray were to pull together at the same rope,” said Devilsdust.
“What can it be?” said Julia. “Come, Mick; Dusty is always so long telling us anything.”