Sebastian Mouncey began to fear that the mill-owner would not escape personal violence.
The clergyman did what he could to relieve the poor families in the straits they had brought on themselves; but he had no power to bring about a better state of things, since Mr. Darnell refused to listen to any mediator.
Nor was Gus idle. He had found plenty to do since he was dismissed from the mill. The colonel's house was now empty, and there was work for boys to do in weeding and hoeing the garden. But Gus had a way of finding tasks for himself in addition to those with which the vicar provided him. He went in and out of the cottages, greeted everywhere with a welcome; for since it became known that he, too, was a sufferer from Philip Darnell's tyranny and injustice, all the old friendliness towards him had revived.
If there was an over-worked mother to be helped, or a sick child to be amused, or any job to be done to which he could give his strength and skill, Gus was ready to meet the need. He was never so happy as when he was helping others.
Christmas was close at hand. It promised to be the gloomiest Christmas the villagers of Rayleigh had ever known. It was the night of the twentieth—a night long remembered at Rayleigh. Gus was sleeping in the tiny room he had to himself beneath the thatched roof of the cottage. He was never a heavy sleeper, and towards morning the melancholy howling of a dog roused hint from his slumber. The sound seemed to come from the direction of the mill. Sitting up in bed to listen, Gus was surprised to see a red glow in the sky. Was it the herald of the dawn?
He hurried to the little casement beneath the eaves. Then he saw that the glow came from behind the mill, and from it, showing dark against the copper-coloured sky, rose a thick column of smoke. As Gus gazed in bewilderment, unable at once to conceive the meaning of what he saw, a flame shot through the smoke.
Gus sprang from the window, and rushed to the top of the stairs, crying, "Fire! Fire!" Hustling on his clothes, he was abroad as soon as any one, and flew to rouse those who were sleeping at the mill. As he hurried along, he soon perceived whence the smoke came. It was not the mill, but Mill House that was in flames.
The men were quickly roused; but for a while the greatest confusion prevailed. There was a fire-engine belonging to the mill, but the new hands did not understand how to use the gear, and the firemen wert of course amongst the strikers. Even in this extremity they held back, mindful of their wrongs.
"Let him burn!" Gus heard a man say. "He has done his best to starve us; he would not care if we and our children perished. Let him burn, I say!"
"For shame, Ned!" cried Gus passionately. "Are you a man, and talk like that?"