his livelihood, and take up scenery: and he dashed off a
letter of defiance. He showed it to Bayne, and it went into the fire
directly. "That is all right," said this worthy. "You have written
your mind, like a man. Now sit down, and give them treacle for their
honey--or you'll catch pepper."

Henry groaned, and writhed, but obeyed.

He had written his defiance in three minutes. It took him an hour to
produce the following:

"DEAR SIR,--I am sorry for the misunderstanding. I did not, for a
moment, attach that meaning to any thing that fell either from you or
Mr. Parkin.

"I must now remind you that, were I to strike work entirely, Mr.
Cheetham could discharge me, and even punish me, for breach of contract.
All I can do is to work fewer hours than I have done: and I am sure
you will be satisfied with that, if you consider that the delay in the
settlement of this matter rests with you, and not with me,

"I am yours respectfully, HENRY LITTLE.

"I furnish you, as requested, with two replies to the objection of a
respectable workman that I am paid above the list price.

"1.--To sell skilled labor below the statement price is a just offense,
and injury to trade. But to obtain above the statement price is to
benefit trade. The high price, that stands alone to-day, will not stand
alone forever. It gets quoted in bargains, and draws prices up to it.
That has been proved a thousand times.

"2.--It is not under any master's skin to pay a man more than he is
worth. It I get a high price, it is because I make a first-rate article.
If a man has got superior knowledge, he is not going to give it away to
gratify envious ignorance."

To this, in due course, he received from Jobson the following:

"DEAR SIR,--I advised you according to my judgment and experience: but,
doubtless, you are the best judge of your own affairs."

And that closed the correspondence with the Secretaries.

The gentle Jobson and the polite Parkin had retired from the
correspondence with their air of mild regret and placid resignation
just three days, when young Little found a dirty crumpled letter on his
anvil, written in pencil. It ran thus:

"Turn up or youl wish you had droped it. Youl be made so as youl never
do hands turn agin, an never know what hurt you.

"MOONRAKER." (Signed)

Henry swore.

When he had sworn (and, as a Briton, I think he had denied himself
that satisfaction long enough), he caught up a strip of steel with