"Ay, he is. Do you mind owd parson's dunk pigs?" said Johnson, the butcher.

"To be sure," said the landlord, rapping his pipe. "I've got four of the same breed now."

"He used to come and see you pretty oftens, didn't he?" said the grocer.

"Oh, yes; he'd come toddling up on the saints' days to Mrs Winny's there, and sit for a bit, and then come across here, and sit and wait, and have a gill o' ale, and then if there was anybody coming up to church, Jacky Budd--Jacky Budd's father, you know--would come and fetch him, and if there was n.o.body coming Jacky used to lock the church doors again and go back home."

"He was a rum one, he was. Fond of his garden, too."

"Well, so's this un," said the landlord. "He's getten it to raights now."

"Course he has," said Slee. "Getten it done for nowt, wi' Tom Podmore and big Harry, and iver so many more wucking for him."

"You let th' parson alone, Sim," said the landlord, who was a bit of an autocrat in his own parlour, "and he'll let thee alone."

"I should hope he would. He's fun me a hot one a'ready," said Sim.

"He's a good sort, is parson," said Johnson, the butcher; "and it's how do, and shake hands, as friendly with ye, as if you was the best in the land."

"Yes," said the grocer; "and he don't come begging and borrowing always."

"Begging, no," said Johnson, chuckling. "Why, he's paid me thutty pounds this last ten days for meat."

"Thutty pounds!" said the landlord.

"Ay, all that."

"What for?" said Sim.

"Meat for soup," said Johnson.

"Ah, and I've took a lot of him for grosheries," said the grocer.

"Yes; he's giving away a sight o' money," said the landlord, "to them as is on strike and wants it. He says to me, only yesterday, when I went across to take him a bit o' Marquory--it was some as we'd got very fine--'Thankye, Robinson,' he says, 'so that's Mercury, is it?'--he called it 'Mercury.' 'I never see any before,' he says. 'We call it Good King Henry down in the South.' 'Yes, sir,' I says, 'that's marquory, and as good a vegetable as you can eat.' 'Makes a difference in your trade, this strike, I suppose,' he says. 'Our takings aint been above half, sir,' I says, 'since it begun.' 'Sorry for it,' he says, 'sorry for it. I don't dislike to see men come and have their pipe and gla.s.s in moderation, and then chat after work; and I'm sure, Robinson,'

he says, 'you are not the man to let any one exceed.' 'Never do if I can help it, sir,' I says; and then he talked for ever so long, and then he took me in and give me a gla.s.s o' wine, and shew'd me his silver cups as he'd won at college, and rowing and running, and one thing and another; and when I was coming away he says, 'Tell me,' he says, 'if you hear of anybody very hard pushed through the strike, and I'll see what I can do.'"

"Here's parson's very good health," said Johnson, the butcher; and it was drunk by all present but Sim, who uttered a loud, "Yah!"

"They say he's makkin' up to Mrs Glaire, don't they?" said the grocer.

"Ay, they say so," said the butcher; "and that owd Purley's sister and Miss Primgeon are both in a regular takkin' about it. They've both been wucking slippers for him."

"He was fine and on about Daisy Banks, to-day," said the landlord. "I heerd, too, as Joe Banks quarrelled wi' him for interfering 'bout her, just afore she went."

"How did you hear that?" said the grocer.

"Joe Banks's Missus towd mine," said the landlord. "But, say, lads, what's this 'bout Bult.i.tude's John Maine?"

"Don't know--what?" said first one and then another.

"Why, I hear as he was seen talking to a couple of owry-looking poacher chaps, down the road--them two, as they think, had something to do wi'

Daisy Banks going off."

"Yes, I see 'em," said Sim; "and I see John Maine talking to 'em."

"Regular rough couple," continued the landlord. "They comed here just as my Missus was busy wi' her sweeping-brush, and wanted her to buy a three-gill bottle, or give 'em a gill o' ale for it."

"And she wouldn't," said Sim, grinning.

"Yes, she would, and did," said the landlord. "She was all alone in the house; for I was out in the close, and she thowt it best to be civil to 'em; but she kept a pretty sharp eye on 'em all the time."

"Then John Maine's had a hand in it; see if he ain't," said Sim.

"Don't know so much about that," said the landlord. "Some say as you know more than you keer to tell."

"Perhaps I do, and perhaps I don't," said Sim, sententiously. "There's things as I know on, and things as I don't. I'm going now."

"Tell the owd woman to hap you up well to-night, Sim," said one.

"Say, Sim," said another, "ask her to get out her scithers and coot thee hair."

"You're going agates early, Sim," said another.

"Yes, I'm off," said Sim; "and mebbe it'll be some time before you see me here again, or mebbe I shall be here again to-morrow night.

Good-night, all," and he went out, looking very triumphant, telling himself that he had been too much for "that lot," and that he knew what he was about.

There were those present, though, who were not above saying that it was on account of Tom Podmore coming in, to sit near the door, looking wearied out with anxiety as he let his head drop upon his hand, and sat there thoughtful and silent, while those present, knowing his feelings towards the missing girl, changed the subject that they were resuming, and entered upon the question of the duration of the strike.

Volume 2, Chapter XII.

THREATENINGS.

As the days pa.s.sed, and no information could be obtained respecting Daisy Banks, and the efforts of the police to trace the two strangers proved utterly fruitless, John Maine was in a state of mind not to be envied. By degrees it oozed out more and more that he had been seen with the two men, and the police came down to the farm, to question him, looking suspiciously at him, as he told them that they were men he had met once before in the neighbourhood of Nottingham; and when the constables left he had the annoyance of feeling that he would be watched, for it was evident that he was looked upon with suspicion.

Joe Banks had been nearly mad with excitement, and leaving his sobbing wife day after day, he had searched and researched the country round, aided by Tom Podmore, Harry, and a score of the other men. Richard Glaire had made no show of a.s.sisting after the first day, for he had awakened to the fact that the town was not a safe home for him, and it was fully his intention to leave the place for awhile; but, for his own reasons, he preferred to wait a little longer.

Sim Slee was about now a good deal, and another encounter had taken place between him and Richard, after which Sim had gone round to the vicarage back-door, to implore help from his wife, a.s.serting that he was half killed, and begging her to come home and attend on him.

As it happened, the vicar heard him, and came to see how bad were his injuries, and to offer to set his housekeeper at liberty.

"I'll manage without you, Mrs Slee, if you like," he said kindly.

"But I don't like," said Mrs Slee; "there'll be fifty people here soon for soup and bread, and how can you get shoot of 'em all wi'out me?"

"Thou must come home, lovey," said Sim, in a dismal voice. "I'm very bad. I've got money enew, too, now to keep us for weeks."

"Where dids't thou get money from?" said Mrs Slee, sharply.

"Never thou mind," said Sim. "I've gotten it, and now come home."