“Ah, I’m not so hopeful about that!” cried Uncle Bob. “I’m afraid that we shall have to buy new ones.”
“Yes,” said Uncle Dick; “but I would not mind that if by so doing we could get the men to behave well to us in the future.”
“And we never shall,” said Uncle Jack, “till Cob here ceases to be such a tyrant. The men are afraid of him.”
“Why, uncle!” I exclaimed; and they all laughed at my look of injury.
That night Uncle Jack and Uncle Dick kept watch; next night we took our turn again, and so matters went on for a week. Now and then we saw some of our men idling about, but they looked at us in a heavy stolid way, and then slouched off.
The works seemed to be very melancholy and strange, but we went there regularly enough, and when we had a fire going and stayed in there was no doubt about the matter; we were watched.
Piter grew quite well again, and in his thick head there seemed to be an idea that he had been very badly used, for, as he walked close at my heels, I used to see him give the workmen very ugly looks in a side wise fashion that I used to call measuring legs.
One morning my uncles said that they should not go to the works that day, and as they did not seem to want me I thought I would go back and put a project I had in my mind in force.
I had passed the night at the works in company with Uncle Jack, and all had been perfectly quiet, so, putting some bones in the basket for Piter, I also thrust in some necessaries for the task I had in hand, and started.
About half-way there I met Gentles, the fat-faced grinder, and he shut his eyes at me and slouched up in his affectionate way.