"All the worse for the nation," said Bolt; "houses are a fancy article--got to be. But it doesn't matter to us. We have got bricks enough to go on with."
"Plenty, sir; but that is not where the shoe pinches now. The Brickmakers' Union has made it right with the Bricklayers' Union, and the Bricklayers' Union orders us to cart back every one of those machine-made bricks to the yard."
"See them ---- first," said Bolt.
"Well, sir, have you considered the alternative?"
"Not a bricklayer in Hillsboro', or for fifty miles round, will set a brick for us; and if we get men from a distance they will be talked away, or driven away, directly. The place is picketed on every side at this moment."
Even Bolt was staggered now. "What is to be done, I wonder?"
"There's nothing to be done but submit. When two such powerful Unions amalgamate, resistance is useless, and the law of the land a dead letter. Mr. Bolt, I'm not a rich man; I've got a large family; let me beg of you to release me from the contract."
"White, you are a cur. Release you? never!"