"Even so," the young leader responded, "is it fair that an assistant cook should receive equal wages with the chef?"
"And why not? Labour creates all value. The chef's a fakir. We do all the work. He never lifts his hand to a pot or pan. He struts and loafs through the kitchen and lords it over the men. Let him try to run the kitchen without us, and see how much you get to eat! We stand on the equal rights of man!"
"But my dear comrade——"
"Don't use them words," old Tom pleaded, "jest let me make a few remarks——"
Barbara pinched Tom's arm and he subsided.
"Can't you see," Norman went on, "that we are paying the chef for his directive ability, for his inventive genius in creating new dishes and making old ones more delicious? You but execute his orders."
"We stand square on our principles. Labour creates all values. The chef never works. We make every dish that goes to the table. If it has any value we make it. We demand our rights!"
The court agreed on fifty dollars a month, and the men refused to consider it.
"We prefer to work in the fields, the foundry, the machine-shop, the mills, the forests, anywhere you like except the kitchen. Let the chef do your work. Good day!"
They turned and marched out in a body and sat down in the sunshine.