“What are you to do? Why, go to work, to be sure, if you want your wages. Don’t strike, don’t lose time. You cannot afford that as well as we can, you know. Be in your places on Monday morning, and do your best for us, and I promise you that I will do my best for you.” How was it that they all believed him? They certainly did. There was not a man who doubted. “Three cheers for the young governor!” said one, and a hearty hurrah was raised. “Thank you,” said Arthur, when the noise ceased, “I shall be glad now to see how much or how little I am hurt.” “Sorry you are hurt at all, sir,” said one. “Now then, mates, clear out! The youngster looks faintish like.” They vanished speedily, and then as Arthur turned from the window he wondered where his father was, and what he would say to him. He was not in the room, but Hancourt was there, holding by the collar a pale, unkempt youth, who looked considerably crestfallen and frightened. “This is the fellow who threw a stone at you, Mr. Arthur. His name is Jones. As there was no policeman near I arrested him myself. I suppose now that there is little need of their services the police will soon be coming, and I will keep this fellow until I can give him into custody.” “Bring him into my room, and turn the key upon us both.” Tea had been set on the table, some cold chicken, pie, cake, and toast. “Come and have some,” said Arthur to his prisoner. “You look hungry, and it is tea-time.” The lad could not keep his eyes from wandering to that well-spread table. He was hungry, certainly, for he had scarcely tasted food that day; but he did not think he was so far gone as to eat the food of the man whom he had struck with a stone. “Now then,” said Arthur, “why don’t you begin? You know it will be some time before they give you anything to eat at the police-station. You had better get a meal while you have the chance.” As he spoke he was tying a handkerchief around his head. “I wish that stone hadn’t hit you,” said the youth. “Oh, yes! I am sure you do, because it was a cowardly thing to throw it, and no man likes to be a coward. I will cut you some chicken.” A well-filled plate was put before the young man, who really could not resist it; and if he could have got rid of the lump in his throat he would have greatly enjoyed it, for such bread, such ham, and such chicken he had never tasted before. “Will you have a glass of milk?” said Arthur, pouring it out. “I am not going to give you into custody, though a whole army of police should come to take you, because, as you say, you did not mean to hurt me.” “Thank you, kindly, sir, I’m sure.” Arthur Knight let the young man go on with his meal in comfort, and then he began to question him. “Now, which workshop are you in?” “I ain’t in no workshop at all, sir.” “What do you do then?” “Oh! I do odd jobs, and earn a sixpence here and there.” “I suppose you work for my father?” “What say, sir?” “You work for Mr. Knight, don’t you?” “No, sir.”