“Why do you come to me?”
Margaret gazed stupidly at him with her small, grey eyes, offering no reply.
Dido, greatly astonished at Mr. Bike’s manner, stammered out that she represented the girls he employed, who had decided to appeal to him not to enforce the proposed reduction, as they were already working for less than other factories were paying.
When she began to speak a strange look of relief passed over his face and with a peculiar, nervous laugh, he sat down again.
“Get out of this,” said he roughly. “If you don’t like my prices leave them for those who do.”
Turning his back to the girls he coolly began arranging the papers on his desk.
When Dido began to plead for justice he calmly ordered foreman Flint to “remove these young persons.”
“If you do dare touch me, I’ll kill you!” exclaimed Dido in a rage, as Flint made a movement to obey orders.
He cowered, stepped back and stammered an excuse to his employer. He felt the scorch in Dido’s blazing midnight eyes and he respected her warning and his own person.
Mr. Bike moved quietly to the door and holding it open, said: