“That’s all right and I don’t pretend my work on the lathe is a national asset, and I don’t pretend I ought to have a statue for doing it,” answered Nicholas; “but what I do say is that I am greater than my lathe and ought to get more attention according.  I am a man and not a cog-wheel, and when Ironsyde puts cog-wheels above men and gives a dumb machine greater praise than the mechanic who works it—­then it’s wrong and I don’t like it.”

“He can’t make any such mistake as that,” argued Job.  “It’s rumoured he’s going to stand for Parliament at the next General Election, so his business is with men, not machines, and he’ll very soon find all about the human side of politics.”

“He’ll be human enough till he gets in.  They always are.  They’ll stoop to anything till they’re elected,” said Mrs. Legg, “but once there, the case is often altered with ’em.”

“I want to be recognised as a man,” continued Roberts, “and Ironsyde don’t do it.  He isn’t the only human being with a soul and a future.  And now, if he’s for Parliament, I dare say he’ll become more indifferent than ever.  He may be a machine himself, with no feelings beyond work; but other people are built different.”

“A man like him ought to try and do the things himself,” suggested Sarah.  “If employers had to put in a day laying the stricks on the spreadboard, or turning the rollers on the lathe, or hackling, or spinning, they’d very soon get a respect for what the workers do.  In fact, if labour had its way, it ought to make capital taste what labour means, and get out of bed when labour gets out, and do what labour does, and eat what labour eats.  Then capital would begin to know it’s born.”

“It never will happen,” persisted Nicholas.  “Nothing opens the eyes of the blind, or makes the man who can buy oysters, eat winkles.  The gulf is fixed between us and it won’t be crossed.  If he goes into Parliament, or stops out, he’ll be himself still, and look on us doubtfully and wish in his soul that we were made of copper and filled with steam.”

“A master must follow his people out of the works into their homes if he’s worth a rap,” declared Job.  “Your aunt always did so with her maidens, and I do so with the men.  And it’s our place to remember that men and women are far different from metal and steam.  You can’t turn the power off the workers and think they’re going to be all right till you turn it on again.  They go on all the time—­same as the masters and mistresses do.  They sleep and eat and rest; they want their bit of human interest, and bit of fun, and pinch of hope to salt the working day.  And as for Raymond Ironsyde, I’ve seen his career unfolding since he was a boy and marked him in bad moments and seen his weakness; which secrets were safe enough with me, for I’d always a great feeling for the young.  And I say that he’s good as gold at heart and his faults only come from a lack of power to put himself in another man’s place.