l our prosperity."

Wharton's artistic ear disliked the mixture of metaphor, and he frowned
slightly.

Mr. Bateson hurried on. He was already excited, and had fallen upon
Wharton as a prey.

"And you really desire to make it _penal_ for us manufacturers--for me
in my industry--in spite of all the chances and changes of the market,
to work my men more than eight hours a day--_even_ if they wish it!"

"We must get our decision, our majority of the adult workers in any
given district in favour of an eight-hours day," said Wharton, blandly;
"then when they have voted for it, the local authority will put the Act
in motion."

"And my men--conceivably--may have voted in the minority, against any
such tomfoolery; yet, when the vote is given, it will be a punishable
offence for them, and me, to work overtime? You _actually_ mean that;
how do you propose to punish us?"

"Well," said Wharton, relighting his cigarette, "that is a much debated
point. Personally, I am in favour of imprisonment rather than fine."

The other bounded on his chair.

"You would imprison me for working overtime--with _willing men!_"

Wharton eyed him with smiling composure. Two or three other men--an old
general, the smart private secretary of a cabinet minister, and a
well-known permanent official at the head of one of the great spending
departments--who were sitting grouped at the end of the table a few feet
away, stopped their conversation to listen.

"Except in cases of emergency, which are provided for under the Act,"
said Wharton. "Yes, I should imprison you, with the greatest pleasure in
life. Eight hours _plus_ overtime is what we are going to stop, _at all
hazards!_"

A flash broke from his blue eyes. Then he tranquilly resumed his
smoking.

The young manufacturer flushed with angry agitation.

"But you must know, it is inconceivable that you should not know, that
the whole thing is stark staring lunacy. In our business, trade is
declining, the export falling every year, the imports from France
steadily advancing. And you are going to make us fight a country where
men work eleven hours a day, for lower wages, with our hands tied behind
our backs by legislation of this kind? Well, you know," he threw
himself back in his chair with a contemptuous laugh, "there can be only
one explanation. You and your friends, of course, have banished
political economy to Saturn--and you suppose that by doing so you get
rid of it for all the rest of