Abel Dinnett had returned home and was making holiday until his mother should discover work for him, or he himself be able to get occupation.

For the moment Sabina found herself sufficiently busy packing up her possessions and preparing for the forthcoming sale at ‘The Magnolias.’

She was waiting to find a new home until Abel’s future labour appeared; but, in secret, Raymond Ironsyde had undertaken to obtain it, and she knew that henceforth she would live at Bridport.

Mr. Baggs poured out his wrongs, but he did not begin immediately.  Failing adult ears, Abel’s served him, and he proceeded to declare that the new hackler was a worthless rogue, who did not know his business and would never earn his money.

Abel, however, had reached a standard of intelligence that no longer respected Mr. Baggs.

“I don’t go to the works now,” he said, “and never shall again.  I don’t care nothing about them.  My mother and me are going to leave Bridetown when I get a job.”

“No doubt—­no doubt.  Though I dare say your talk is sour grapes—­seeing as you’ll never come by your rights.”

Abel lifted his eyes to the iron-roofed buildings up the valley.

“Oh yes, I could,” he said.  “That man wants to win me now.  He’s going to be married, and she—­her he’s going to marry—­told my mother that he’s wishful for me to be his proper son and be treated according.  But I won’t have his damned friendship now.  It’s too late now.  You can’t drive hate out of a man with gifts.”

“They ain’t gifts—­they’re your right and due.  ’Tis done to save his face before the people, so they’ll forgive his past and help send him into Parliament.  Look at me—­fifty years of service and ten shillings a week pension!  It shall be known and ’twill lose him countless votes, please God.  A dog like that in Parliament!  ’Twould be a disgrace to the nation.  And you go on hating him if you’re a brave boy.  Every honest man hates him, same as I do.  Twenty shillings I ought to have had, if a penny.”

“Fling his money back in his face,” said Abel.  “Nobody did ought to touch his money, or work for it.  And if every man and woman refused to go in his works, then he’d be ruined.”

“The wicked flourish like the green bay tree in this country, because there’s such a cruel lot of ’em, and they back each other up against the righteous,” declared Levi.  “But a time’s coming, and you’ll live to see it, when the world will rise against their iniquity.”

“Don’t take his money, then.”

“It ain’t his money.  It’s my money.  He’s keeping back my money.  When that John Best drops out, as he ought to do, for he’s long past his work, will he get ten shillings a week?  Two pound, more like; and all because he cringes and lies and lets the powers of darkness trample on him!  And may the money turn to poison in his mouth when he does get it.”

“Everything about Ironsyde is poison,” added Abel.  “And that girl that was a friend to me—­he’s poisoned her now, and I won’t know her no more.  I won’t neighbour with anybody that has a good word for him, and I won’t breathe the same air with him much longer; and I told my mother if she took a penny from him, I’d throw her over, too.”