Shirley

to be nowt but stinging, venomed nettles.«
    »Joe's a sensible fellow,« interjected Helstone.
    »Howsiver, Sarah had another string to her bow: Fred Murgatroyd, one of our lads, is for her, and as women judge men by their faces – and Fred has a middling face, while Moses is none so handsome, as we all knaw – the lass took on wi' Fred. A two-three months sin', Murgatroyd and Moses chanced to meet one Sunday night; they'd both come lurking about these premises wi' the notion of counselling Sarah to tak' a bit of a walk wi' them; they fell out, had a tussel, and Fred was worsted: for he's young and small, and Barraclough, for all he has only one leg, is almost as strong as Sugden there; indeed, anybody that hears him roaring at a revival or a love-feast, may be sure he's no weakling.«
    »Joe, you're insupportable,« here broke in Mr. Moore. »You spin out your explanation as Moses spins out his sermons. The long and short of it is, Murgatroyd was jealous of Barraclough; and last night, as he and a friend took shelter in a barn from a shower, they heard and saw Moses conferring with some associates within. From their discourse, it was plain he had been the leader, not only at Stilbro' Moor, but in the attack on Sykes's property: moreover they planned a deputation to wait on me this morning, which the tailor is to head, and which, in the most religious and peaceful spirit, is to entreat me to put the accursed thing out of my tent. I rode over to Whinbury this morning, got a constable and a warrant, and I am now waiting to give my friend the reception he deserves; here, meantime, comes Sykes: Mr. Helstone, you must spirit him up; he feels timid at the thoughts of prosecuting.«
    A gig was heard to roll into the yard: Mr. Sykes entered; a tall stout man of about fifty, comely of feature, but feeble of physiognomy: he looked anxious.
    »Have they been? Are they gone? Have you got him? Is it over?« he asked.
    »Not yet,« returned Moore with phlegm. »We are waiting for them.«
    »They'll not come; it's near noon: better give it up; it will excite bad feeling – make a stir – cause perhaps fatal consequences.«
    »
You
need not appear,« said Moore. »I shall meet them in the yard when they come;
you
can stay here.«
    »But my name must be seen in the law proceedings: wife and family, Mr. Moore – a wife and family make a man cautious.«
    Moore looked disgusted. »Give way, if you please,« said he; »leave me to myself; I have no objection to act alone: only be assured you will not find safety in submission; your partner, Pearson, gave way, and conceded, and forbore – well, that did not prevent them from attempting to shoot him in his own house.«
    »My dear sir, take a little wine and water,« recommended Mr. Helstone. The wine and water was Hollands and water, as Mr. Sykes discovered when he had compounded and swallowed a brimming tumbler thereof: it transfigured him in two minutes, brought the colour back to his face, and made him at least
word
-valiant. He now announced that he hoped he was above being trampled on by the common people; he was determined to endure the insolence of the working-classes no longer; he had considered of it and made up his mind to go all lengths; if money and spirit could put down these rioters, they should be put down; Mr. Moore might do as he liked, but
he –
Christie Sykes – would spend his last penny in law before he would be beaten: he'd settle them, or he'd see.
    »Take another glass,« urged Moore.
    Mr. Sykes didn't mind if he did; this was a cold morning (Sugden had found it a warm one); it was necessary to be careful at this season of the year – it was proper to take something to keep the damp out; he had a little cough already (here he coughed in attestation of the fact); something of this sort (lifting the black bottle) was excellent taken medicinally (he poured the physic into his tumbler); he didn't make a practice of drinking spirits in a morning, but occasionally it really was prudent to take precautions.
    »Quite prudent, and take them by all means,« urged the host.
    Mr. Sykes now addressed Mr. Helstone, who stood on the hearth, his shovel-hat on his head, watching him significantly with his little keen eyes.
    »You, sir, as a clergyman,« said he, »may feel it disagreeable to be present amidst scenes of hurry and flurry, and, I may say, peril: I dare say your nerves won't stand it; you're a man of peace, sir, but we manufacturers, living in the world and