“What matters it to me where the overlooker stands, as long as he does not hinder my work? None but knaves fear being watched, and I am an honest man.” “If your account of yourself be true, it is a pity you should be a beggar. I will call the overlooker and bid him set you to work.” “First answer me, unless you have any objection, the question with which I introduced myself to you. Remember how many of your inquiries I have answered, and be pleased to observe that the tunnel-workmen are going to dinner, so that I have nearly an hour before me, which might hang heavy as I have no dinner to eat.” The gentlemen were so amused at the oddity of this man, that they did not walk away, as many would have done after such a speech. Paul’s manner, though free, was not disrespectful, and his language testified that he must have held a superior situation to that in which he now appeared. “Am I to refer your hint about a dinner,” said Mr. Wallace, laughing, “to your old trade, or your new one? Are you begging your dinner, or do you wish for it as wages in advance?” “Neither the one nor the other, sir. I used to wait for my dinner till seven for fashion’s sake; and now I can wait till six for honesty’s sake. By that time I hope to have earned my meat; and from the moment you promised me work, I gave up begging. I shall beg no more.” Mr. Wallace thought, however, it would not be fair play to let Paul begin his labours hungry. He called to Briggs, one of the cokers, and asked if he had more dinner in his basket than he wanted. He had. “Well, then, give this man some, and he will pay you to-night, and if he does not, I will.” “And now,” said Paul, after apologizing for eating in the gentleman’s presence, “will you tell me who are capitalists here besides yourself?” “Every man about the works might be so, except perhaps yourself, Paul; and you may be a capitalist six hours hence.” “That depends upon what we mean by the word,” said Paul, smiling. “Do you mean by capital, something produced with a view to further production, or any production which may be exchanged for some other production? There is a vast difference between the two.” “A great difference indeed,” observed Mr. Hollins. “Parry, the overlooker, is a capitalist, for he has saved money enough to build yonder cottage, which he lets at a rent of five pounds a year; but is Briggs, the coker, a capitalist? He has property, I know; a bed, a table, and a few chairs, and other articles of furniture; but as these are not instrumental to further production, can they be called capital?”