“What becomes of us wicked plutocrats?”
“We’ll have you workin’ for us.”
“Then we’ll be the workin’-men, and it will be our turn to take over things and set you plutocrats to workin’ for us, I suppose. And we’ll be just where we are now.”
This was growing too seesawy for Nuddle, and he turned surly.
“Some of you won’t be in no shape to take over nothin’.”
Davidge laughed. “It’s as bad as that, eh? Well, while I can, I’ll just take over your button.”
“You mean I’m fired?”
“Exactly,” said Davidge, holding out his hand for the badge that served as a pass to the yards and the pay-roll. “Come with me, and you’ll get what money’s coming to you.”
This struck through Nuddle’s thick wits. He cast a glance of dismay at Mamise. If he were discharged, he could not help Easton with the grand blow-up. He whined: