“Then you can have nothing to say to me, sir, since, as an individual, I have no power to negotiate. Good morning, Mr. Rowe.”
“Stay a moment, Allen. You understand that the men are not to know of this interview; and it is of more importance still that the masters should not. Promise me, Allen.”
“I can promise no such thing,” said Allen, returning from the door. “I regard your consent to be the second to raise wages as a concession, and I was going to report it to Mr. Wentworth.”
“For God’s sake don’t!”
“I must,” said Allen, firmly; and all entreaty, all reproach, was in vain.
“At least, don’t give up the name. The fact will do just as well without the name. Give me your word to conceal the name till you see me again.”
Out of pure compassion, Allen yielded thus far. Mr. Rowe accompanied him to the house-door, harping upon “the name, the name,” till Allen turned round to say gravely,
“A promise once given is enough, sir, between honest men. I have given you my word.”
“True, true, my good friend. It is only a trick I have got of repeating my sentences.”
And the gentleman shut the door behind his guest, feeling very like a child who has persuaded her maid not to tell her governess who broke the china cup; knowing all the time that the mishap must come to light, and trembling every time any one goes near the cupboard.