Stephen bent his head to the gentleman from London, and showed a rather more troubled mind than usual. He turned his eyes involuntarily to his former refuge, but at a look from that quarter (expressive though instantaneous) he settled them on Mr. Bounderby’s face.

“Now, what do you complain of?” asked Mr. Bounderby.

“I ha’ not coom here, sir,” Stephen reminded him, “to complain. I coom for that I were sent for.”

“What,” repeated Mr. Bounderby, folding his arms, “do you people, in a general way, complain of?”

Stephen looked at him with some little irresolution for a moment, and then seemed to make up his mind.