ll! Do you hear? My
brother in New Zealand is dead. What do you say to that?"

"I am very sorry for you," said Mr. Burnet.

"Are you? You are that envious you don't know how to look me in the
face! Thirty thousand pounds, Burnet! What do you say to that? Have
you got thirty thousand pounds? I snap my fingers at you all!" And he
did it.

"My poor brother died six months ago. Ah! sad, sad! Lonely old
bachelor! Not a creature to weep for him but me. They have been six
months finding out my address; and now I can go to New Zealand and
live on my property worth thirty thousand pounds, or, the lawyer
writes, the land can be sold and the cash sent over to me. I think I
like cash better than land. Shake hands again, Burnet. I've told the
men I'll give them a half-holiday, as there's not much doing, and a
sovereign apiece, which you will advance to them. I'll give a cheque
for it, you know."

Mr. Burnet did not respond.

"Now, some men," Rayner went on, wiping the heat from his streaming
face, "would have their heads turned by such luck as the death of a
rich bachelor brother; but I'm as cool as a cucumber, only the weather
is rather warm. Shake hands, Burnet; you'll never find a bit of pride
in me. Cheer again, mates, and off to your homes, and may you all have
rich brothers and end with thirty thousand pounds!"

It was evident that poor Rayner's head was completely turned by his
sudden prosperity. Perhaps few men could have taken such a change
without some excitement; probably few men would have become so insane
on account of what only changed his fortunes, not himself, or, rather,
had so far only changed himself for the worse. All this bluster and
talk made no impression on either Mr. Burnet or Mitchell, who waited
quietly until Rayner's extravagant delight should have spent itself.

The other men, too, began to see how ridiculous Rayner was making
himself. They soon moved off, by twos and threes, back to their work;
and presently Rayner found himself alone with his employer and the new
man just come down from London.

"I suppose," said Mr. Burnet calmly, "that you will not wish to work
any longer, Rayner, in my factory?"

"That for your factory!" said Rayner, snapping his fingers again;
"I'll never do another day's work as long as I live. I'll pay you what
you like instead of a week's notice, or you may fine me what you like.
But I'm off to London by the next train to see my lawyer, and to enjoy
myself a bit. I'l