To Barbara's mild and gentle protest their answer was complete and stunning:
"You have assigned us this dirty job. Do you want it at any price?" asked their orator. "I'll take yours without wages and jump at the chance."
Tom lost all interest in the proceedings and drew himself up in a knot in his chair. Now and then a growl came from the depths of his throat.
Once he was heard to distinctly articulate:
"This makes me tired."
The court begged and pleaded, cajoled, argued in vain with the stubborn scrubwomen. Not an inch would they move in their demands. The floors were becoming unspeakably filthy. They had not been scrubbed since the arrival of the colony.
Norman turned to Barbara.
"Put the question solemnly to ourselves—we don't want the job at any price, do we?"
"I couldn't do it!" she admitted, frankly. "Then what's the use? We must be fair. It's worth what they ask."
The court granted the demands and the scrubwomen and dishwashers marched to the kitchen and once more the chef tore his hair and cursed the fate which brought him to such disgrace as to work with stupid subordinates at equal wages and gaze on dishwashers and scrubwomen whose wages exceeded his own.