asked for it, because good words is scarce, and bad words is plentiful."

He was in a mood to take a surly pleasure in giving answers that were like riddles. But Margaret saw that he would like to be asked for the explanation.

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And good words are―

-?"

"Asking for work. I reckon them's almost the best words that men can say. Gi' me work' means ' and I'll do it like a man.' Them's good words." "And bad words are refusing you work when you ask for it."

"Ay. Bad words is saying Aha, my fine chap! Yo've been true to yo'r order, and I'll be true to mine. Yo' did the best yo' could for them as wanted help; that's yo're way of being true to yo'r kind; and I'll be true to mine. Yo've been a poor fool, as knowed no better nor be a true faithful fool. So go and be d-d to yo'.

for yo' here.' Them's bad words.

There's no work

I'm not a fool;

and if I was, folk ought to ha' taught me how to be wise after their fashion. I could mappen ha' learnt, if any one had tried to teach me.”

“Would it not be worth while," said Mr. Hale, "to ask your old master if he would take you back again? It might be a poor chance, but it would be a chance."

He looked up again, with a sharp glance at the questioner; and then tittered a low and bitter laugh. "Measter! if it's no offence, I'll ask yo' a question or two in my turn."

"You're quite welcome," said Mr. Hale.

"I reckon yo'n some way of earning your bread.

Folk seldom lives i' Milton just for pleasure, if they can live anywhere else."

"You are quite right. I have some independent property, but my intention in settling in Milton was to become a private tutor."

"To teach folk. Well! I reckon they pay yo' for teaching them, dunnot they?"

"Yes," replied Mr. Hale, smiling. "I teach in order to get paid."

"And them that pays yo', dun they tell yo' whatten to do, or whatten not to do wi' the money they gives you in just payment for your pains-in fair exchange like?"

"They dunnot say, 'Yo' may have a brother, or a friend as dear as a brother, who wants this here brass for a purpose both yo' and he think right; but yo' mun promise not give it to him. Yo' may see a good use, as yo' think, to put yo'r money to; but we don't think it good, and so if yo' spend it a-thatens we'll just leave off dealing with yo'. They dun

"No: to be sure not!"

"Would yo' stand it if they did?"

"It would be some very hard pressure that would make me even think of submitting to such dictation."

"There's not the pressure on all the broad earth that would make me," said Nicholas Higgins. "Now yo've got it. Yo've hit the bull's eye. Hampers— that's where I worked-makes their men pledge 'emselves they'll not give a penny to help th' Union or keep turn-outs fro' clemming. They may pledge

and make pledge," continued he, scornfully; "they nobbut make liars and hypocrites. And that's a less sin, to my mind, to making men's hearts so hard that they'll not do a kindness to them as needs it, or help on the right and just cause, though it goes again the strong hand. But I'll ne'er forswear mysel' for a' the work the king could gi'e me. I'm a member o' the Union; and I think it's the only thing to do the workman any good. And I've been a turn-out, and known what it were to clem; so if I get a shilling, sixpence shall go to them if they axe it from me. Consequence is, I dunnot see where I'm to get a shilling."

"Is that rule about not contributing to the Union in force at all the mills?" asked Margaret.

"I cannot say. It's a new regulation at ourn; and I reckon they'll find that they cannot stick to it. But it's in force now. By-and-by they'll find out, tyrants makes liars."

But

There was a little pause. Margaret was hesitating whether she should say what was in her mind; she was unwilling to irritate one who was already gloomy and despondent enough. At last out it came. in her soft tones, and with her reluctant manner, showing that she was unwilling to say anything unpleasant, it did not seem to annoy Higgins, only to perplex him.

"Do you remember poor Boucher saying that the Union was a tyrant? I think he said it was the worst tyrant of all. And I remember, at the time I agreed with him."

It was a long while before he spoke. He was resting his head on his two hands, and looking down

into the fire, so she could not read the expression on his face.

"I'll not deny but what th' Union finds it necessary to force a man into his own good. I'll speak truth. A man leads a dree life who's not i' th' Union. But once i' th' Union, his interests are taken care on better nor he could do it for himsel', or by himsel', for that matter. It's the only way working men can get their rights, by all joining together. More the members, more chance for each one separate man having justice done him. Government takes care o' fools and madmen; and if any man is inclined to do himsel' or his neighbour a hurt, it puts a bit of a check on him, whether he likes it or no. That's all we do i' th' Union. We can't clap folk into prison; but we can make a man's life so heavy to be borne, that he's obliged to come in, and be wise and helpful in spite of himself. Boucher were a fool all along, and ne'er a worse fool than at th' last."

"He did you harm?" asked Margaret.

"Aye, that did he. We had public opinion on our side, till he and his sort began rioting and breaking laws. It were all o'er wi' the strike then."

"Then would it not have been far better to have left him alone, and not forced him to join the Union? He did you no good; and you drove him mad."

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Margaret," said her father, in a low and warning tone, for he saw the cloud gathering on Higgins's face.

"Hoo

"I like her," said Higgins, suddenly. speaks plain out what's in her mind. Hoo doesn't comprehend th' Union for all that. It's a great

power it's our only power. I ha' read a bit o' poetry about a plough going o'er a daisy, as made tears come into my eyes, afore I'd other cause for crying. But the chap ne'er stopped driving the plough, I'se warrant, for all he were pitiful about the daisy. He'd too much mother-wit for that. Th' Union's the plough, making ready the land for harvest-time. Such as Boucher-'twould be settin' him up too much to liken him to a daisy; he's liker a weed lounging over the ground-mun just make up their mind to be put out o' the way. I'm sore vexed wi' him just now. So, mappen, I dunnot speak him fair. I could go o'er him wi' a plough mysel', wi' a' the pleasure in life."

"Why? What has he been doing? Anything fresh?"

"Ay, to be sure. He's ne'er out o' mischief, that man. First of a' he must go raging like a mad fool, and kick up yon riot. Then he'd to go into hiding, where he'd a been yet, if Thornton had followed him out as I'd hoped he would ha' done. But Thornton, having got his own purpose, didn't care to go on wi' the prosecution for the riot. So Boucher slunk back again to his house. He ne'er showed himsel' abroad for a day or two. He had that grace. And then, where think ye that he went? Why, to Hampers'. Damn him! He went wi' his mealy-mouthed face, that turns me sick to look at, a-asking for work, though he knowed well enough the new rule, o' pledging themselves to give nought to th' Unions; nought to help the starving turn-out! Why he'd a clemmed to death, if th' Union had na helped him in his pinch. There he went, ossing to