Just then the garden door opened, and a broad-shouldered grizzled man of seven or eight and forty entered the garden followed by Jacky. Foreman though he was, Joe Banks had been hard at work, and his hands and lace bore the grime of the foundry. He had, however, thrown on a jacket, and wiped the perspiration from his forehead, leaving a half clean line over his pale blue eyes, while a pleasant smile puckered such of his face as was not hidden by his closely cut grizzled beard. "Sarvant, ma'am," he said, making a rough bow to the lady of the house. "Good morning, Banks," said Mrs Glaire. "Jacky, go and nail up that wistaria, and mind you don't tumble off the ladder." Jacky looked injured, but walked off evidently making a bee line for the tool-shed--one which he did not keep. "Little on, mum," said the foreman, with a wise nod in Jacky's direction. "Wants a month's illness to be a warnin'." "It's a pity. Banks, but he will drink." "Like lots more on 'em, ma'am. Why if I was to get shut of all the lads in the works there who like their drop of drink, I shouldn't have half enew." "How are things going on, Banks?" said Mrs Glaire. The foreman looked at her curiously, for it was a new thing for his mistress to make any inquiry about the foundry. A few months back and he had to make his daily reports, but since Richard Glaire had come of age, Mrs Glaire had scrupulously avoided interfering in any way, handing over the business management to "my son." "I said how are things going on in the foundry, Banks," said the lady again, for the foreman had coughed and shuffled from one foot on to the other. "Do you wish me to tell you, ma'am?" he said at last. "Tell me? of course," said Mrs Glaire, impatiently. "How are matters?" "Bad." "Bad? What do you mean?" "Well, mum, not bad as to work; 'cause there's plenty of that, and nothing in the way of contracts as is like to suffer by waiting." "Then, what do you mean?" "Well, you see, ma'am, Mr Richard don't get on wi' the men. He wants to have it all his own way, and they want to have it all theirn. Well, of course that wean't work; so what's wanted is for the governor to give way just a little, and then they'd give way altogether." "But I'm sure my son Richard's management is excellent," said Mrs Glaire, whose lip quivered a little as she drew herself up with dignity, and began a fresh row of her knitting. Banks coughed slightly, and remained silent. "Don't you think so, Banks?" "Well, you see, ma'am, he's a bit arbitrary." "Arbitrary? What do you mean, Banks?" "Well, you see, ma'am, he turned Sim Slee off at a moment's notice." "And quite right, too," said Mrs Glaire hotly. "My son told me. The fellow is a spouting, mouthing creature." "He is that, ma'am, and as lazy as a slug, but it made matters worse, and just now there's a deal of strikes about, and the men at other places listening to delegates from societies, and joining unions, and all that sort of stuff."