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<h3 align="center">Chapter XLI</h3> Nahum Beals was a laster in Lloyd's. Late in the autumn, when Ellen had been in the factory a little over a year, there began to be a subtle condition of discontent and insubordination. Men gathered in muttering groups, of which Nahum Beals seemed always to be the nucleus. His high, rampant voice, restrained by no fear of consequences, always served as the key-note to the chorus of rebellion. Ellen paid little attention to it. She was earning good wages, and personally she had nothing of which to complain. She had come to regard Beals as something of a chronic fanatic, but as she knew that the lasters were fairly paid, she had not supposed it meant anything. However, one night, going home from the factory, her eyes were opened. Abby and Maria Atkins and Mamie Brady were with her, and shortly after they had left the shop Abby stopped Granville Joy, Frank Dixon, and Willy Jones, who with another young man were swinging past without noticing the girls, strange to say. Abby caught Joy by the arm. “Hold on a minute, Granville Joy,” said she. “I want to know what's up with the lasters.” Granville laughed, with an uneasy, sidelong, deprecating glance at Ellen. “Oh, nothing much,” said he. Willy Jones stood still, coloring, gazing at Abby with a half-terrified expression. Dixon walked on, and the other young man, Amos Lee, who was dark and slight and sinewy, stared from one to the other with quick flashes of black eyes. He looked almost as if he had gypsy blood in him, and he came of a family which was further on the outskirts of society than the Louds had been. When Granville replied “nothing much” to Abby's question, Amos Lee frowned with a swift contraction of dissent, but did not speak until Abby had retorted. “You needn't talk that way to me, Granville Joy,” said she. “You can't cheat me. I know something's up.” “It ain't nothin', Abby,” said Granville, but it was quite evident that he was lying. Then Lee spoke up, in a sudden fury of enthusiasm. “There is somethin' up,” said he, “and I don't care if you do know it. There's—” he stopped as Granville clutched his arm violently and whispered something. “Well, maybe you're right,” said Lee to Joy. “Look here,” he continued to Abby, “you and Ellen come along here a little ways, and I'll tell you.” After Maria and Mamie had passed on, Joy and Jones and Lee, standing close to the two girls, began to talk, Lee leading. “Well, look here,” he said, in a hushed voice. “We've found out—no matter how, but we've found out—that the boss is goin' to dock the lasters' pay.” “How much?” asked Abby. “Fifteen per cent.” “Good Lord!” said Abby. “We ain't going to stand it,” said Lee. “I don't see how we can stand it,” said Willy Jones, with a slightly interrogative tone directed towards Abby. Granville looked at Ellen. “Are you sure?” she asked. “Perfectly sure,” replied Granville. “What do you think about it, Ellen?” “What are you going to do?” asked Ellen, thoughtfully. “Strike for fifteen per cent. more before he has a chance to dock us,” cried Lee, with a hushed vehemence, looking about warily to make sure that no one overheard. “The worst of it is, I know it all comes from Nahum Beals, and he's half cracked,” said Abby, bluntly. “He's got the right of it, anyhow,” said Lee. The two girls walked on, while the men lingered behind to talk. “Do you suppose it is true, Abby?” asked Ellen. “I don't know. I should, if it wasn't for that Lee fellow. I can't bear him. And that Nahum Beals, I believe he's half mad.” “I feel the same way about him,” said Ellen; “but think what it would mean, fifteen per cent. less on their wages.” “It doesn't mean so much for those young fellows, except Willy Jones; he's got enough on his shoulders.” “No, but ever so many of the lasters have large families.” “I hope they don't drag Willy Jones into it,” said Abby. She looked back as she spoke. Willy, in the little knot of men, was looking after her, and their eyes met. Abby colored. “It's a shame to dock his wages,” she said. “Whose—Willy Jones's?” “Yes. I hope he won't get into any trouble. I can't bear that Lee.” “Still, to dock their wages fifteen per cent.,” said Ellen, thoughtfully. “What right has Mr. Lloyd?” “I suppose he'd say he has the right because he has the capital.” “I don't see why that gives him the right.” “You'd better go and talk to him,” said Abby. “As for me, I made up my mind when I went to work in the shop that I'd got to be a bond-slave, all but my soul. That can kick free, thank the Lord.” “I didn't make up my mind to it,” said Ellen. “I am not going to be a slave in any way, and I am not going to approve of others being slaves.” “You think they ought to strike?” “Yes, if it is true that Mr. Lloyd is going to dock their wages, but I don't feel sure that it is true. Mr. Beals is a queer man. Sometimes I have thought he was dangerous.” <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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