"I've told you I ain't going to, and I sticks to my words. If you threaten me like that, I'll go to the foreman and complain. There he comes."
Simon looked down the street, and saw Mr. Munster advancing just behind two other mill-hands. He was obliged to let Stephen go, but rage filled his heart.
"I'll pay you out," he muttered, "one of these days." Then he turned round a side street and disappeared.
And what did Stephen do?
He walked on till he came to a baker's shop, where he bought some bread; then to a grocer's, where he got sugar, tea, and a candle; and so on, till his arms and pockets were full of parcels. But the odd thing was that he bought so much. That was what struck a man—one of the mill-hands—who was in the shop.
Most of the work-people lived in one particular quarter of the big city—Fairfax Town it was called in consequence. But Stephen threaded his way to quite a different part—a much poorer one—and turned into an old tumble-down house, with all its windows broken and patched, which had stood empty and deserted until he came to it.
Weeks passed on, and still, in spite of constant persecution, Stephen remained at the mill. Scarcely any one spoke a kind word to him except Mr. Fairfax, but he very seldom saw him. Even old Mr. Munster, the head foreman, addressed him sharply and contemptuously, which was not his usual custom. The lad did his work well enough, but he was such a miserable-looking fellow, and so untidy and shabby.
Mr. Munster said something of the sort to Archie one day, when he met him outside the office, just as Stephen was going away after receiving his week's wages.
"Yes," replied Archie eagerly; "did you ever see such a scarecrow? But he has good pay, hasn't he?"
"Yes, Mr. Archie; very good for such a young hand. He has fifteen shillings a week."