You see?
They're a 'combine'-- a trade union, to coin a new phrase--who band themselves together to force their lowly brother to take what they choose to give.

Thirteen hundred years hence--so says the unwritten law--the 'combine' will be the other way, and then how these fine people's posterity will fume and fret and grit their teeth over the insolent tyranny of trade unions! Yes, indeed! the magistrate will tranquilly arrange the wages from now clear away down into the nineteenth century; and then all of a sudden the wage-earner will consider that a couple of thousand years or so is enough of this one-sided sort of thing; and he will rise up and take a hand in fixing his wages himself.
Ah, he will have a long and bitter account of wrong and humiliation to settle." "Do ye believe--" "That he actually will help to fix his own wages?
Yes, indeed.
And he will be strong and able, then." "Brave times, brave times, of a truth!" sneered the prosperous smith.
"Oh,--and there's another detail.

In that day, a master may hire a man for only just one day, or one week, or one month at a time, if he wants to." "What ?" "It's true.

Moreover, a magistrate won't be able to force a man to work for a master a whole year on a stretch whether the man wants to or not." "Will there be _no_ law or sense in that day ?" "Both of them, Dowley.

In that day a man will be his own property, not the property of magistrate and master.