John’s eyes flamed.  ’Oh! ’ee says that, do ’ee?  Well Saunders wor allus a beast—­an a beast ‘ee’ll be.’

He sat with his chin on his large dirty hands, ruminating furiously.

It was quite true that Saunders had thwarted him more than once.  There was old Mrs. Moulsey at the shop, when she wanted to buy those cottages in Potter’s Row—­and there was Sam Field the higgler—­both of them would have borrowed from him if Saunders hadn’t cooled them off.  Saunders said it was a Jew’s interest he was asking—­because there was security—­but he wasn’t going to accept a farthing less than his shilling a pound for three months—­not he!  So they might take it or leave it.  And Mrs. Moulsey got hers from the Building Society, and Sam Field made shift to go without.  And John Bolderfield was three pounds poorer that quarter than he need have been—­all along of Saunders.  And now Saunders was talking ‘agen him’ like this—­blast him!

’Oh, an then he went on’—­pursued Bessie with gusto—­’about your bein too ignorant to put it in the post-office.  ’Ee said you’d think Edwards would go an spend it’ (Edwards was the postmaster), ’an then he laughed fit to split ’imself.  Yer couldn’t see more nor the length of your own nose he said—­it was edication you wanted.  As for ’im, ’ee said, ’ee’d have kep it for you if you’d asked him, but you’d been like a bear with a sore ’ead, ’ee said ever since Mrs. Moulsey’s affair—­so ’ee didn’t suppose you would.’

’Well, ‘ee’s about right there,’ said John, grimly; ’’ee’s talkin sense for onst when ’ee says that.  I’d dig a hole in the hill and bury it sooner nor I’d trust it to ‘im—­I would, by—­’ he swore vigorously.  ’A thieving set of magpies is all them Saunders—­cadgin ’ere and cadgin there.’

He spoke with fierce contempt, the tacit hatred of years leaping to sight.  Bessie’s bright brown eyes looked at him with sympathy.

‘It was just his nassty spite,’ she said.  ’He knew ’ee could never ha done it—­not what you’ve done—­out o’ your wages.  Not unless ’ee got Sally to tie ’im to the dresser with ropes so as ’ee couldn’t go a-near the “Spotted Deer” no more!’

She laughed like a merry child at her own witticism, and John relished it too, though he was not in a laughing mood.

’Why’—­continued Bessie with enthusiasm, ’it was Muster Drew as said to me the other afternoon, as we was walkin ’ome from the churchyard, says ’ee, “Mrs. Costrell, I call it splendid what John’s done—­I do,” ’ee says.  “A labourer on fifteen shillins a week—­why it’s an example to the country,” ’ee says. “‘Ee ought to be showed."’

John’s face relaxed.  The temper and obstinacy in the eyes began to yield to the weak complacency which was their more normal expression.