He was not alarmed this time, but vexed. He went and complained to
Bayne; and that worthy came directly and contemplated the writing, in
silence, for about a minute. Then he gave a weary sigh, and said, with
doleful resignation, "Take the chalk, and write. There it is."

Henry took the chalk, and prepared to write Bayne's mind underneath
Mary's. Bayne dictated:

"I have offered the Handlers the same as the Forgers."

"But that is not true," objected Henry, turning round, with the chalk in
his hand.

"It will be true, in half an hour. We are going to Parkin, the Handlers'
Secretary."

"What, another L15! This is an infernal swindle."

"What isn't?" said Bayne, cynically.

Henry then wrote as desired; and they went together to Mr. Parkin.

Mr. Parkin was not at home. But they hunted him from pillar to post,
and caught him, at last, in the bar-parlor of "The Packsaddle." He knew
Bayne well, and received him kindly, and, on his asking for a private
interview, gave a wink to two persons who were with him: they got up
directly, and went out.

"What, is there any thing amiss between you and the trade?" inquired Mr.
Parkin, with an air of friendly interest.

Bayne smiled, not graciously, but sourly. "Come, come, sir, that is a
farce you and I have worn out this ten years. This is the London workman
himself, come to excuse himself to Mary and Co., for not applying to
them before: and the long and the short is, he offers the Handlers the
same as he has the Smiths, fifteen down, and to pay his natty money, but
draw no scale, unless disabled. What d'y say? Yes, or no?"

"I'll lay Mr. Little's proposal before the committee."

"Thank you, sir," said Little. "And, meantime, I suppose I may feel safe
against violence, from the members of your union?"

"Violence!" said Mr. Parkin, turning his eye inward, as if he was
interrogating the centuries. Then to Mr. Bayne, "Pray, sir, do you
remember any deed of darkness that our Union has ever committed, since
we have been together; and that is twelve years?"

"WELL, Mr. Parkin," said Bayne, "if you mean deeds of blood, and deeds
of gunpowder, et cetera--why, no, not one: and it is greatly to your
honor. But, mind you, if a master wants his tanks tapped and his
hardening-liquor run into the shore or his bellows to be ripped, his
axle-nuts to vanish, his wheel-bands to go and hide in a drain or a
church belfry, and his scythe-blades to dive into a wheel-dam, he has
only t