“Well, you see, Mr. Braunt, there is a crisis on. The committee is to report. Mr. Sartwell has refused to meet them, and this will likely anger Gibbons and the others. Strike or no strike will be put to vote, and I for one don’t want to see a strike--at least not just now.” “No more do I,” said Braunt. “Then come on to the meeting and speak up against a strike.” “I’m no speaker. You speak.” “They won’t listen to me, but they would pay attention to what you would say.” “Not a bit of it, my lad. But it doesn’t matter to me, not a haporth.” “What doesn’t? Whether there is a strike or not?” “I’m not going to strike. They can do as they’ve a mind.” “But if the Union orders us out we’ll have to go.” “Not me.” “Supposing the strike succeeds, as it may--the Union’s very strong,--what will you do then?” “Stick to my work, and mind my own business.” “But the Union won’t let you. If the strike fails you’ll merely get the ill will of all the men; if it succeeds they’ll force you out of the works. There’s no use running your head against a brick wall, Mr. Braunt.” “You speak; you’ve got the gift o’ the gab,” said Braunt. “I’m too young. They won’t listen to me now. But a day will come when they will--aye, and the masters, too. I’d willingly devote my life to the cause of the workingman.” Marsten spoke with the fire of youthful enthusiasm, and was somewhat disconcerted when the other took his pipe from his mouth and laughed. “Why do you laugh?” “I’m laughing at you. I’m glad to know there’s some one that believes in us, but as thou says, thou ’art yoong; thou’ll know better-later on.” “Don’t you believe in yourself and your fellow-workers?” “Not me. I know ’em too well. By the sweat of thy brow shalt thou earn thy bread. Them’s not the right words, happen; but that’s the meaning. It has been, is now, and ever shall be. Amen.” “I don’t object to that, Mr. Braunt,” cried the young man, rising and pacing the floor in his excitement. “Don’t think it. But I want to see everybody work. What I object to is earning your bread by the sweat of the hired man’s brow, as someone has said. Bless me! look at our numbers. We outnumber the loafers ten to one; yes, a hundred to one in every country in the world. All we need is an unselfish leader.” The elder man looked at him with a quizzical smile on his stern lips.