'I'll do my best,' replied Sarah; and she went back to her mother, and left her brother in charge of the mills and of the men.
The two porters at the gate were his devoted servants, and talked to him with the freedom of old workmen, as they deplored the present condition of things. 'And the sooner we see the backs of those chaps the better,' said one. 'They are quick enough, but they're not thorough; and they'd chuck it up to-morrow if it weren't for the high wages they're bribed with.'
'I shouldn't have thought that would pay,' observed George in his usual lazy, indifferent way.
The man gave him a look, and said in a significant tone, 'It doesn't—at least, it wouldn't in the long-run; but it pays better than letting the mills "play," especially with this big contract on for blankets for abroad. The hands knew that, and that's why they struck. They thought the master'd have been obliged to give way to get it done. And so did I, and so he would have if he hadn't got those chaps by a miracle.'
'How did he get them?' inquired George, asking the same question that every one else was asking.
The man laughed, with an evident appreciation of the smartness that could accomplish what looked like a miracle, although he shook his head disapprovingly. 'He telephoned to somewhere abroad—I don't rightly know if 'twas France or Belgium; in fact, he've been 'phoning for days; and it seems there was a wool-mill shut down, and these men out of employ, and he had the whole lot brought over and put in here by midnight on Sunday. They came in wagon-loads from a station ten miles off, and not a soul knew. Oh, he managed it well, did the master! But they laugh best who laugh last, as the saying is.'
George took a whiff of his cigarette. 'So you think the men will laugh the last? Do you think they'll burn the mills down?' he inquired.
'No, sir; I don't think they could if they would, and I doubt if they would. 'Twould be wholesale murder, with all those hands inside. Besides, there'll be some arrests for this other job, and that'll cool their blood. No; what I'm afraid of is those men in here,' said the old man, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder towards the mill-buildings.
'What do you think they'll do?' George demanded.
'They'll go. They're getting tired of the confinement and the dullness. Besides, they are frightened. Goodness knows how they've got to know anything of what's going on outside, but they have; and if they hear of this fire it'll be all up with us. They'll go, and a sack of gold won't keep them.'