“Why, the little man was frightened at first—­and no wonder, for Lugur is big as Saul and as strong as Samson—­but he kept his head and told Lugur he would ‘take no orders from him.’  Furthermore, he said he would show his ’admiration of Miss Lugur’s beauty, whenever he felt disposed to do so.’  It was the noon hour and a crowd was in the street, and they gathered round—­for our lads smell a fight—­and they cheered the little lord for his plucky words, and he rode away while they were cheering and left Lugur standing so black and surly that no one cared to pass an opinion he could hear.  Indeed, my eldest daughter kept her little lad from school that afternoon.  She said someone was bound to suffer for Lugur’s setdown and it wasn’t going to be her John Henry.”

“He seems to be an ill-tempered man—­this Lugur, and we don’t want such men in Hatton.”

“Well, sir, we breed our own tempers in Hatton, and we can frame to put up with them—­but strangers!” and Jonathan appeared to have no words to express his suspicion of strangers.

“If Lugur is quarrelsome he must leave Hatton.  I will not give him house room.”

“You hev a good deal of influence, sir, but you can’t move Lugur.  No, you can’t.  Lugur hes been appointed by the Methodist Church, and there is the Conference behind the church, sir.  I hev no doubt but what we shall hev to put up with the sulky beggar whether we want it or like it or not.”

“It would be a queer thing, Jonathan Greenwood, if John Hatton did not have influence enough to put a troubler of Hatton town out of it.  The Methodist Church is too sensible to oppose what is good for a community.”

“Sir, you are reckoning your bill without your host.  The church would likely stand by you, but all the women would stand by Lugur.  And what is queerer still, all his scholars would fight anyone who said a word against him.  He hes a way, sir, a way of his own with children, and I hev wondered often what is the secret of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll give you an example, sir.  You know Silas Bolton hes a very bad lad, but the other day he went to Lugur and confessed he had stripped old Padget’s apple-tree.  Well, Lugur listened to him and talked to him and then lifted his leather strap and gave him a dozen good licks.  The lad never whimpered, and t’ master shook hands with him when the bit o’ business was over and said, ’You are a brave boy, Will Bolton.  I don’t think you’ll do a mean, cowardly act like that again, and if such is your determination, you can learn me double lessons for tomorrow; then all will be square between you and me’—­and Bolton’s bad boy did it.”

“That was right enough.”

“I hevn’t quite finished, sir.  In two days he went with the boy to tell old Padget he was sorry, and the man forgave him without one hard word; but I hev heard since, that t’ master paid for the apples out of his own pocket, and I would not wonder if he did.  What do you think of the man now?”