ith 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. He could never
look very much farther than his own place in the world and the road that
led to it. He did wrong, like all of us