“Nobody doubts,” observed Wentworth, “that you now take so many shillings less than you took five years ago; but that matters nothing to you or to us.”
The chairman and Clack stared in about an equal degree.
“My dear sir, that is the very point,” said the one.
“I always thought you had had a heart to feel for the poor,” cried the other.
“I beg your pardon,” said the gentleman quietly, “it is not, sir, the point in dispute, and I trust, Clack, my observation does not carry any great cruelty in it. If a penny a week would enable a man to buy all necessaries for himself and his family, and if a pound would do no more, would it signify to any man whether his wages were a penny or a pound?”
“Certainly not; but who ever heard of such wonderful pennies?”
“I have heard of shillings which you might think nearly as wonderful as such pennies: shillings which would buy more than twice as much at one time as at another.”
“To be sure,” said Clack, laughing contemptuously, “every child knows that the price of bread and other things rises and falls.”
“Very well. Your concern is about how much of bread and other things you get in return for your labour, and not how many shillings. Shillings are of no value to you but for what they buy. If half the money in the kingdom were to be carried off by fairies this night, so that you could have only half your present nominal wages, you would be no worse off than at present. The same quantity of food and clothing would be in the market, and you would get as much for sixpence as you now get for a shilling. This is why I said the nominal amount of your wages mattered little. I said nothing about the real amount.”
“But you do not deny, sir,” said Allen, “that our real wages are less than they were?”