John. They're more than difficult. Ephraim. Then we agree so far. What threatens us threatens you. In fact, our interests are identical. John. Not quite, I think. Ephraim. Eh? Well, no. What's mine isn't thine. We've each to make a profit for ourselves. But we get the profit out of weaving, and your weavers are fractious; so are ours. John. But mine aren't--or not to anything like the extent yours are. Ephraim. I'm told the grumbling is universal. John. It's general up to a point, but there's a dead set at you. Ephraim. At me? John. Well, no, not at you, Barlow. It's this young gentleman who's the mischief-maker. Guy. The mischief-maker, Mr. Heppenstall? John (_defending himself_). You reduced wages. You put down fresh machinery, and got rid of men and---- Guy. And you've done the same. John. I had to follow suit or see you take my trade away. I didn't want to do it. I believe in treating men as men. Guy. I believe in treating men as servants of the machines. It's all they are. John. No. By your leave, young gentleman, it is not all they are. They're flesh and blood. (_To Ephraim._) And I'm surprised, Barlow, at your allowing your men to be reduced. Guy. The men can live on what they're paid. John. They can't. Guy. They do. I'm getting applications every day from men who want to be taken on. John. Yes, so am I. And why? Because the steam power's taken away their living and half a living's better than none to a starving man. (_To Ephraim._) You ought to be ashamed of yourself to take advantage of them. Ephraim. Well, Heppenstall, it's---- Guy (_interrupting_). I'm responsible, Mr. Heppenstall. If you've anything to say about the management of Barlow's, say it to me. My father's virtually retired. Ephraim (_with spirit_). Have I? I'm not dead yet, my lad. I've given you a lot of rope, but be careful or you'll hang yourself. John (_approvingly, turning his shoulder on Guy_). That's better, Barlow. I mislike seeing you knuckle under to a boy. (_Guy rises and goes to fireplace, standing with his back to table. John speaks across table to Ephraim _) Now, look here, I had to follow your lead when you reduced. Will you follow mine if I put them up again to what they were three months ago? Guy (_wheeling round_). And let the weavers fancy we're afraid of them? John (_not turning_). I'm not afraid of them. I'm sorry for them. Guy. They know better. Once give in, and they're the masters. Show them they've only to ask and threaten to get what they ask and they'll ask for more. They'll not stop at the old level. John. Oh, we can't go beyond the old figure. Guy. No. But you'll have to if once you start putting wages on the basis of a benevolent Charity. I'm in business to buy cheap and sell dear. I want my labour as cheap as I can get it and, by God, I'll get it cheap. Ephraim (_thumping table_). Are you the head of Barlow's or am I? Guy (_impatiently_). Oh, you are, I suppose.