But this quick catching up of Webster for neglect of duty was quite another affair from the neighbourly help which connived at and concealed his delinquencies. And Jim Hull looked aggrieved in his own person and worried by Oliver’s interference. ‘It ain’t any good,’ he said in an undertone to Oliver. ‘Webster won’t be put upon, he’ll take his way, but it’s a fact he’ll get more dough through his hands, to better purpose, in ten minutes than the other lads will in twenty.’ ‘All the same he’ll not put upon me and the rest of the men, as I take it he does. Who made him an exception to the rest? Put upon indeed! I should like to know who is in danger of being put upon. Jim Hull, you are getting soft in your old age. Let some of these fellows do Webster’s job,’ said Oliver angrily. ‘The’ve got their own jobs, and some of them is hard enough pushed to turn out presentable batches for themselves. I tell you it ain’t every man can take Webster’s place. That there batch of his is for Dr. Riley’s family. The doctor is difficult to please in his bread, and he sets on some of his patients to be as cranky as hisself,’ grumbled Jim. ‘I’m sorry for Riley and his patients then,’ said Oliver shortly. ‘Is there no baker here,’ Oliver raised his voice slightly so as to be heard by more than Jim, ‘who can knead Webster’s stuff in addition to his own?’ No man spoke. Each felt scrupulous as to the kneading which was necessary for his batch this morning. Clearly the movement to call Webster to order was not popular, even though it arose from his own fault, and that a fault which only a sprinkling of the men present would have presumed to commit. Jim Hull began slowly to strip the jacket from his rheumatic shoulders in the hot steaming air. As he did so he repeated still more surlily, ‘It ain’t every man can take Webster’s place. Baking itself ain’t a trade which a young fellow can pick up at his feet any day, anyhow, and read the rights and wrongs of it straight off—by heart, like a printed page, then give his orders conformable.’ ‘Hold on, Jim.’ Oliver stopped his foreman’s preparations. ‘I suppose you think I’ve forgotten any lessons I ever learnt. And as for those fellows yonder,’ pointing to the row of figures at the baking-boards, ‘who are grinning behind their shirt-sleeves and their heads powdered like flunkeys—they are a set of flunkeys to Webster or any ringleader who chooses to hold the asses by the ears of their class prejudices and petty vices— they believe I’m speaking of what I know nothing about, or that I set them to do a task which I hold to be a degradation, therefore I am dependent on their skill and fidelity—Heaven help me! and if I were famishing I should perish for lack of bread without their assistance. You and they are mightily mistaken though, Jim.’ CHAPTER XXII. A REFORMER’S REWARD.