Ephraim. Oh, let the leaders swing for it. It's their desert. But all the others, just the heedless fools they've led astray. I'm sorry for them in the bitter days to come. Guy's been too hard on them. John. Yes. Guy's been hard. A wilful, headstrong man. But, hearkee, Barlow, I've a plan that will smooth out the crookedness for you. Ephraim. A plan? John. You've been a rival of me, and your son has made the rivalry no pleasant thing. But you and I are friends, and sooner than see you suffer for your son, I'll run my place by night as well as day, and you can put your people there by night and keep faith with your customers. Ephraim (_rising_). Why, Heppenstall, that's generous. John. There's something in the doctrine which that fighting-cock of yours was preaching here last night. We manufacturers must cling together, Barlow, only he wanted us to cling to his policy and, by your leave, we'll cling to mine. It lets you satisfy your customers and keep your weavers living, and it gives me the chance of rapping Mr. Guy Barlow on the knuckles. Ephraim (_timidly_). Do you think he'll let--? John. Why, man alive, I hope that you are master here. Ephraim. I shall take no pleasure in it now. (_Enter Guy._) That old factory was like another son to me. Guy (_in high spirits_). And a damned rickety child it was. Ephraim. Guy! Guy (_good-humouredly_). You will get a new son, father A lusty son with new machinery in the guts of him. Ephraim. It will not be my old factory. Guy. No, by the Lord, it won't. It will be efficient. Come, father, bear up. We'll soon have that site covered up again with another son for you, and there's no love like the love of a man for the child of his old age. Ephraim. It won't be my child, Guy. Guy. Then call it your grandson and dote upon him as a grandad should. John. Is this a time for your jesting, Mr. Guy? Guy. Maybe you think you've the laugh of me, Mr. Heppenstall, you with your factory unburnt. Wait till my new building is complete with all the last word in machinery, Look to your business then. I'll show you what a factory should be. Ephraim. Guy, you sound--almost--as if you are glad. Guy. Why not? We're well insured. Ephraim. And our customers, meantime? Guy. Customers? Fire breaks all contracts. Ephraim. Not mine. Not while there exists a way of carrying them out. Guy. There is no way. John. You'll pardon me, there is. I have offered your father the use of my factory by night. Guy. By night? We should lose money. There would be you to pay, and weaving by candlelight is expensive. Ephraim. Then let us lose money. I will carry out my contracts. And--think of the weavers, Guy. Guy. Let them starve. Ephraim. I won't. I will hang the leaders. But the rest shall live. Guy. They will live somehow. When we want them again, they will be there. Meantime, they shall be punished. Ephraim. I say they shall not, and by our good friend's help they need not be.