"We will take it, for the moment's argument, at what Thoms says--that strangers would not, or should not, come here. In that case the other result must happen--the work of the country would pass away from it. It has already begun to pass; you know it, my men; and so do your rulers the Trades' Unions. How it affects their nerves I don't pretend to say; but, when once this tide of desolation has fairly set in as a settled result, there will not be much need of their agitation. As truly as that I live, and now stand here speaking to you, I believe this will come. In different parts of the country whole places are being dismantled--the work has left it. Do you suppose North Inlet is the only spot where the provision shops may as well be closed because the men have no longer money to spend in them? Any newspaper you take up will tell you the contrary. Read about the ship-building in the East of London; how it has gone away, and whole colonies of men are left behind starving. Gone to Scotland; to the banks of the Tyne; anywhere that men can be found to work. It is the same with other trades. Whose fault is this? Why, the men's own."
Murmurs. "No. No."
"No! Why, here's a present illustration of it. Whose fault is it that my works are shut up, and you are living in idleness--or, we'll say, starving in idleness, if you like the word better? If I am unable to take this contract now offered, and it goes elsewhere, whose doings will it be, but yours? Don't talk nonsense, my men. It is all very well to say that the Trades' Unions don't allow, you to take the work. I have nothing to do with that: you and the Unions may divide the responsibility between you."
"The fact is, sir, that we are not our own masters," said Ketler.
"Just so. And it seems that you cannot, or will not, emancipate yourselves from your new slavery and again become your own masters. However, I did not call you together to go over this old ground, but to lay before you the option of returning to work. You have the day to consider it. At six o'clock tomorrow the call-bell will ring----"
"'Twon't be of no use ringing it, sir," interrupted Ketler, some sadness in his tone.
"At six o'clock tomorrow morning the call-bell here will ring," authoritatively repeated Richard North. "You respond to it and I shall heartily welcome you back. If you do not, my refusal must go in, and the contract will lapse from me. If we part to-day it is our final parting, for I shall at once take measures to secure a fresh set of workpeople. Though I gather but ten together at first, and the work I undertake be insignificant in proportion, I'll get them. It will be something like beginning life again: and you will have forced it on me."
"And of all pig-headed idiotics that mortal master ever had to deal with, sure you men are the worst!"
The undignified interruption came from Mrs. Gass. Richard looked round, in great surprise; perhaps all the greater when he also saw Miss Dallory. Mrs. Gass came forward; talking volubly; her bird-of-paradise nodding time to her words. As usual she told the men some home truths; none the less forcibly because her language was homely as their own.
"Is this true?" asked Miss Dallory in a low tone, as Richard went back to shake hands with her. "Shall you really reopen the works again with another set of men?"