re.' They are mostly in the ring. Some outsiders might come,
though."

"Then what?"

"Why, then the boys would make it pretty hot for them in
Stillwater. Don't you notice?"

"I notice there is not much chance for me," said Richard,
despondingly. "Isn't that so?"

"Can't say. Better talk with Slocum. But I must get along; I have
to be back sharp at one. I want to hear about your knocking around
the worst kind. Can't we meet somewhere tonight,--at the tavern?"

"The tavern? That didn't used to be a quiet place."

"It isn't quiet now, but there's nowhere else to go of a night.
It's a comfortable den, and there's always some capital fellows
dropping in. A glass of lager with a mate is not a bad thing after a
hard day's work."

"Both are good things when they are of the right sort."

"That's like saying I'm not the right sort, isn't it?"

"I meant nothing of the kind. But I don't take to the tavern. Not
that I'm squeamish; I have lived four years among sailors, and have
been in rougher places than you ever dreamed of; but all the same I
am afraid of the tavern. I've seen many a brave fellow wrecked on
that reef."

"You always was a bit stuck up," said Durgin candidly.

"Not an inch. I never had much reason to be; and less now than
ever, when I can scarcely afford to drink water, let alone beer. I
will drop round to your mother's some evening--I hope she's
well,--and tell you of my ups and downs. That will be pleasanter for
all hands."

"Oh, as you like."

"Now for Mr. Slocum, though you have taken the wind out of me."

The two separated, Durgin with a half smile on his lip, and
Richard in a melancholy frame of mind. He passed from the
grass-fringed street into the deserted marble yard, where it seemed
as if the green summer had suddenly turned into white winter, and
threading his way between the huge drifts of snowy stone, knocked at
the door of Mr. Slocum's private office.

William Durgin had summed up the case fairly enough as it stood
between the Marble Workers' Association and Rowland Slocum. The
system of this branch of the trades-union kept trained workmen
comparatively scarce, and enabled them to command regular and even
advanced prices at periods when other trades were depressed. The
older hands looked upon a fresh apprentice in the yard with much the
same favor as workingmen of the era of Jacquard looked upon the
introduction of a new piece of machinery. Unless the apprentice had
exceptional ta