There has been enough of this blood-sucking! But no; we are not a bit better than a lot of old women; not one of us! They would never put up with that sort of thing in America."
"Ha! ha! good again!" laughed Tom Robson. "I dare say you think people are willing to share like brothers in America? No, my boy; you would soon find out you were wrong."
"Do you mean to tell me that workmen in America live like we do?" asked Martin, somewhat abashed.
"No; but they do what you can't do," answered Tom.
"What do they do?" asked Martin.
"They work; and that is what you and no one else does here!" shouted Tom, bringing his fist down heavily on the table. He was beginning to feel the effects of the rum.
"What's that about work? Do you mean to say?" began the Swede.
"Hold your jaw!" cried Tom. "Let the old un have his say!"
You are quite wrong, Martin," said Begmand, and this time without stammering. The watery look of his old eyes told that the beer was beginning to work. "It's shameful of you to talk like that about the firm. They have given both your father and your grand-father certain employment; and you might have had the same if you had behaved yourself. The old Consul was the first man in the whole world, and the young Consul is a glorious fellow too. Here's his health!"
