had combed out, also accumulated for future treatment.

He worked with the swiftness and surety of a master craftsman, scourged
his tow and snorted sometimes as he struggled with it. He was exerting a
tremendous pressure, regulated and applied with skill, and he always
exulted in the thought that he, at least, of all the workers performed
hand labour far more perfectly than any machine. But still it was not
the least of his many grievances that Government showed too little
concern for his comfort. He was always demanding increased precautions
for purifying the air he breathed. From first to last, indeed, the hemp
and tow are shedding superfluities, and a layman is astonished to see
how the broad strips and ribbons running through the machines and torn
by innumerable systems of sharp teeth in transit, emerge at the last
gasp of attenuation to trickle down the spindles and turn into the glory
of yarn.

From Mr. Baggs, the long fibre and the short which he had combed out of
it, proceeded to the spinning mill; and now a girl came for the stricks
he had just created.

Their future under the new master was still on every tongue at Bridetown
Mill, and the women turned to the few men who worked among them for
information on this paramount subject.

"No, I ain't heard no more, Sarah," answered the hackler to Miss
Northover's question. "You may be sure that those it concerns most will
be the last to hear of any changes; and you may also be sure that the
changes, when made, will not favour us."

"You can't tell that," answered Sarah, gathering the stricks. "Old Mrs.
Chick, our spreader minder, says the young have always got bigger hearts
than the old, and she'd sooner trust them than--"

Mr. Baggs tore a hank through the comb with such vigour that its steel
teeth trembled and the dust flew.

"Tell Granny Chick not to be a bigger fool than God made her," he said.
"The young have got harder hearts than the old, and education, though it
may make the head bigger for all I know, makes the heart smaller. He'll
be hard--hard--and I lay a week's wages that he'll get out of his
responsibilities by shovelling 'em on his dead father."

"How can he?" asked Sarah.

"By letting things be as they are. By saying his father knew best."

"Young men never think that," answered she. "'Tis well known that no
young man ever thought his father knew better than himself."

"Then he'll pretend to for his own convenience."

"What about all tha