Higgins turned away; then the recollection of Boucher came over him, and he faced round with the greatest concession he could persuade himself to make.

‘I’d promise yo’, measter, I’d not speak a word as could do harm, if so be yo’ did right by us; and I’d promise more:  I’d promise that when I seed yo’ going wrong, and acting unfair, I’d speak to yo’ in private first; and that would be a fair warning.  If yo’ and I did na agree in our opinion o’ your conduct, yo’ might turn me off at an hour’s notice.’

’Upon my word, you don’t think small beer of yourself!  Hamper has had a loss of you.  How came he to let you and your wisdom go?’

‘Well, we parted wi’ mutual dissatisfaction.  I wouldn’t gi’e the pledge they were asking; and they wouldn’t have me at no rate.  So I’m free to make another engagement; and as I said before, though I should na’ say it, I’m a good hand, measter, and a steady man—­specially when I can keep fro’ drink; and that I shall do now, if I ne’er did afore.’

’That you may have more money laid up for another strike, I suppose?’

’No!  I’d be thankful if I was free to do that; it’s for to keep th’ widow and childer of a man who was drove mad by them knobsticks o’ yourn; put out of his place by a Paddy that did na know weft fro’ warp.’

’Well! you’d better turn to something else, if you’ve any such good intention in your head.  I shouldn’t advise you to stay in Milton:  you’re too well known here.’

‘If it were summer,’ said Higgins, ’I’d take to Paddy’s work, and go as a navvy, or haymaking, or summut, and ne’er see Milton again.  But it’s winter, and th’ childer will clem.’

’A pretty navvy you’d make! why, you couldn’t do half a day’s work at digging against an Irishman.’

‘I’d only charge half-a-day for th’ twelve hours, if I could only do half-a-day’s work in th’ time.  Yo’re not knowing of any place, where they could gi’ me a trial, away fro’ the mills, if I’m such a firebrand?  I’d take any wage they thought I was worth, for the sake of those childer.’

’Don’t you see what you would be?  You’d be a knobstick.  You’d be taking less wages than the other labourers—­all for the sake of another man’s children.  Think how you’d abuse any poor fellow who was willing to take what he could get to keep his own children.  You and your Union would soon be down upon him.  No! no! if it’s only for the recollection of the way in which you’ve used the poor knobsticks before now, I say No! to your question.  I’ll not give you work.  I won’t say, I don’t believe your pretext for coming and asking for work; I know nothing about it.  It may be true, or it may not.  It’s a very unlikely story, at any rate.  Let me pass.  I’ll not give you work.  There’s your answer.’

‘I hear, sir.  I would na ha’ troubled yo’, but that I were bid to come, by one as seemed to think yo’d getten some soft place in, yo’r heart.  Hoo were mistook, and I were misled.  But I’m not the first man as is misled by a woman.’