"I have talked to ye about that there move--a strike," resumed Fisher, after a pause. "We shall get no good till we try it----" "Fisher, don't you be a fool and show it," was the imperative interruption of Stephen Crouch. "I have explained to you till I am tired, what would be the effects of a strike. It would just finish you bad workmen up, and send you and your children into the nearest dry ditch for a floor, with the open skies above you for a roof." "We have never tried a strike in Helstonleigh," answered Fisher, holding to his own opinion. "And I trust we never shall," returned the intelligent foreman. "Other trades may have their strikes if they choose, and it's not our business to find fault with them for it; but the glove trade has hitherto kept itself aloof from strikes, and it's to be hoped it always will. You cannot understand how a strike works, Joe Fisher, or you'd not let your head be running on it." "Others' heads be running on it as well as mine, Master Crouch," said Fisher, nodding significantly. "It is not improbable," was the equable rejoinder of Stephen Crouch. "Go and strike next week, half a dozen of you. I mean the operatives of half a dozen firms." "Every firm in the place must strike," interrupted Fisher hastily. "A few on us doing it would only make bad worse." Stephen Crouch smiled. "Exactly. But the difficulty, Fisher, will be, that all the firms _won't_ strike. Ask the men in our firm to strike; ask those in Ashley's; ask others that we could name--and what would their answer be? Why, that they know when they are well off. Suppose, for argument's sake, that we did all strike; suppose all the hands in Helstonleigh struck next Monday morning, and the manufactories had to be closed? Who would have the worst of it?--we or the masters?" "The masters," returned Fisher in an obstinate tone. "No. The masters have good houses over their heads, and their bankers' books to supply their wants while they are waiting--and their orders are not so great that they need fear much pressure on that score. The London houses would dispatch a few extra orders to Paris and Grenoble, and the masters here might enjoy a nice little trip to the sea-side while our senses were coming back to us. But where should we be? Out at elbows, out at pocket, out at heart; some starving, some in the workhouse. If you want to avoid those contingencies, Joe Fisher, you'll keep from strikes." Fisher answered by an ironical cheer. "Here, missis," said he to the landlady, who was then passing him, "let's have another pint, after that." "That'll make nine pints you owe for since Monday night, Joe Fisher," responded the landlady. "What if I do?" grunted Fisher irascibly. "I am able to pay. _I_ ain't out of work." CHAPTER XXI. THE LADIES OF HONEY FAIR.