‘A’m noane sorry for what a did, an’ a’d do it again to-neet, if need were.  So theere’s for thee.  Thou may tell t’ justices fra’ me that a reckon a did righter nor them, as letten poor fellys be carried off i’ t’ very midst o’ t’ town they’re called justices for.’

Perhaps Philip had better have held his tongue; but he believed in the danger, which he was anxious to impress upon his uncle, in order that, knowing what was to be apprehended, the latter might take some pains to avert it.

He went on.

’But they’re making a coil about the Randyvowse being all destroyed!’

Daniel had taken down his pipe from the shelf in the chimney corner, and was stuffing tobacco into the bowl.  He went on pretending to do this a little while after it was filled; for, to tell the truth, he was beginning to feel uncomfortable at the new view of his conduct presented to him.  Still he was not going to let this appear, so lifting up his head with an indifferent air he lighted the pipe, blew into it, took it out and examined it as something were wrong about it, and until that was put to rights he was unable to attend to anything else; all the while the faithful three who hung upon his well-being, gazing, breathless, at his proceedings, and anxious for his reply.

‘Randyvowse!’ said he at length, ’it were a good job it were brenned down, for such a harbour for vermin a never seed:  t’ rats ran across t’ yard by hunders an’ thousands; an’ it were no man’s property as a’ve heerd tell, but belonged to Chancery, up i’ Lunnon; so wheere’s t’ harm done, my fine felly?’

Philip was silent.  He did not care to brave any further his uncle’s angry frown and contracted eye.  If he had only known of Daniel Robson’s part in the riot before he had left the town, he would have taken care to have had better authority for the reality of the danger which he had heard spoken about, and in which he could not help believing.  As it was, he could only keep quiet until he had ascertained what was the legal peril overhanging the rioters, and how far his uncle had been recognized.

Daniel went on puffing angrily.  Kester sighed audibly, and then was sorry he had done so, and began to whistle.  Bell, full of her new fear, yet desirous to bring all present into some kind of harmony, said,—­

‘It’ll ha’ been a loss to John Hobbs—­all his things burnt, or trampled on.  Mebbe he desarved it all, but one’s a kind o’ tender feeling to one’s tables and chairs, special if one’s had t’ bees-waxing on ’em.’

‘A wish he’d been burnt on t’ top on ’em, a do,’ growled out Daniel, shaking the ash out of his pipe.

‘Don’t speak so ill o’ thysel’,’ said his wife.  ‘Thou’d ha’ been t’ first t’ pluck him down if he’d screeched out.’

‘An’ a’ll warrant if they come about wi’ a paper asking for feyther’s name to make up for what Hobbs has lost by t’ fire, feyther ‘ll be for giving him summut,’ said Sylvia.