“Somewhere about that,” Frank said. “If they can get seventeen sets filled by four o’clock,” Fred Bingham said, “they ought to do twenty.” “I differ from you,” Frank said, coolly; “men who are working piece work expect to get away by four. I am certain if they were working day work they would not get fifteen sets full by six. They do a very good day’s work.” “That’s your opinion, Maynard. I am master here, and I insist upon twenty sets being filled in future.” “You may insist till you’re black in the face,” Frank said, “but you won’t get it done. I know what a fair day’s work is, and I consider twenty sets to be more than a fair day’s work, and I won’t ask the men to do it.” “You won’t, eh?” Fred Bingham said, turning sharp upon him. “You will do as I order you, Maynard, or you leave these works.” “Very well,” Frank said, calmly; “then I do leave them. I have worked here, Fred, as I don’t believe any other man in the world would have worked for the same pay. You know that I have got your work done more cheaply for you than you could have got it done any other way.” “I suppose the pay suited you, or you would not have stayed,” Fred Bingham answered. “Do you mean what you say? Because if you do, you can go to the office and get your money.” “I quite mean it,” Frank said, calmly. “From this moment I am no longer in your employ. And now, Fred Bingham, as you are no longer my master, I can speak out. You have treated me, as I believe never was man treated before. Your father persuaded me to come down here. You took advantage of the delay in the works to grind me down to a salary you would not have offered to the commonest man. Worse, you have taken advantage of my position, knowing my circumstances, and that I was under your thumb, to say things to me, and to treat me as you no more dare have done under other circumstances, than you dare have flown. I know why: you hated me, because I was popular here and you are not; because people were ready to be friends with your paid inspector, who would not be friends with you; because I was liked and you were hated. You hated me for this. I have put up with it in silence; I have borne your petty insults, and you dared not, no, dared not, go beyond a certain point; but now, thank God, I am free. You thought you were to be a petty god here, and you hated me because I would not bow down at your feet. You petty tyrant, you miserable, insignificant little despot, I have done with you for ever, and you may thank your fates that I go without giving you the thrashing you so richly merit.” Fred Bingham had grown very white as Frank spoke, but he only said, “Keep your heroics, Frank. The sooner you go the better I shall be pleased. Don’t you lay a hand on me, Maynard, or you will regret it,” he said, as Frank made a step towards him.