“What shall we burn first?” asked the Bishop.
“We may as well parley with them a little,” said Field; “perhaps we may contrive to gain admission and then we can sack the whole affair, and let the people burn the machinery. It will be a great moral lesson.”
“As long as there is burning,” said the Bishop, “I don’t care what lessons you teach them. I leave them to you; but I will have fire to put out that water.”
“I’ll advance,” said Field, and so saying he went forward and rang at the gate; the Bishop, on his mule, with a dozen Hell-cats accompanying him; the great body of the people about twenty yards withdrawn.
“Who rings?” asked a loud voice.
“One who by the order of the Liberator wishes to enter and see whether his commands for a complete cessation of labour have been complied with in this establishment.”
“Very good,” said the Bishop.
“There is no hand at work here,” said the voice; “and you may take my word for it.”
“Your word be hanged,” said the Bishop. “I want to know—”
“Hush, hush!” said Field, and then in a louder voice he said, “It may be so, but as our messengers this morning were not permitted to enter and were treated with great indignity—”