“Nor me,” declared the other. “Let Chown do his job hisself—an’ get his jaw broke for his trouble.”
But they followed Mr. Blee to where the miller still argued against Lamacraft’s entrance.
“Why didn’t they send soldiers for un? That’s what he reckoned on,” said Mr. Lyddon.
“’T is my job fust.”
“I’m sorry you’ve come in this high spirit. You knaw the man and ought to taake his word he’d go quiet and my guarantee for it.”
“I knaw my duty, an’ doan’t want no teachin’ from you.”
“You’re a fule!” said Miller, in some anger. “An’ ’t will take more ’n you an’ that moon-faced lout to put them things on the man, or I’m much mistaken.”
He went indoors while the labourers laughed, and the younger constable blushed at the insult.
“How do ’e like that, Peter Lamacraft?” asked a labourer.
“No odds to me,” answered the policeman, licking his hands nervously and looking at the door. “I ban’t feared of nought said or done if I’ve got the Law behind me. An’ you’m liable yourself if you doan’t help.”