'Saul Fielding went too far,' says Jim; 'and when he had dragged a lot of men into a mess, he deserted them, and showed the white feather. I'm for my rights, and I'll stand up for them, but I'm not for violence nor unreasonable measures. Saul Fielding's fine speech misled a many, who swore by him, and would have followed him through thick and thin. He makes a speech one night that set the men on fire. I heard it myself, and I was all of a quiver; but when I was in the cold air by myself I got my reason back, and I saw that Saul Fielding was putting things in a wrong light. But other men didn't see it. Then, what does he do? Deserts his colours the very next day, and leaves the men that he's misled in the lurch.'
'He may have got in the air, as you did, Jim, and thought better of what he had said. He may have found out afterwards that he was wrong.'
'Not he! He had plenty of time to consider beforehand--seemed as if he had studied his speeches by heart--never stumbled over a word, as the others did, who were a deal honester than him--stumbled over 'em as if words was stones.'
'Well, poor fellow, he's suffered enough. From that day masters and men have been against him.'
'He's made his bed, and he must lay on it,' says Jim Naldret; 'and you know, mother, even if he could wipe that part of his life away, he's not fit company for honest men and women.'
Jim Naldret feels inclined to say a great deal more on another subject about Saul Fielding, but as the subject which he would have ventilated is a delicate one, and refers to a woman who is not Saul Fielding's wife, he refrains, because Bessie is present.
'Let Saul Fielding drop, mother.'
Mrs. Naldret deems it wise to say no more about Saul, and allows a minute or so to elapse before she speaks again.
'Anything in the paper, Jim, about that working-man that put up for Parliament?'
'He didn't get in.'