“Work! You’re a pretty chap to come asking me for work. You don’t want impudence, that’s very clear.”
“I’ve getten enemies and backbiters, like my betters; but I ne’er heerd o’ ony of them calling me o’er-modest,” said Higgins. His blood was a little roused by Mr. Thornton’s manner, more than by his words.
Mr. Thornton saw a letter addressed to himself on the table. He took it up and read it through. At the end, he looked up and said, “What are you waiting for?”
“An answer to th’ question I axed.”
“I gave it you before. Don’t waste any more of your time.”
“Yo’ made a remark, sir, on my impudence: but I were taught that it was manners to say either ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ when I were axed a civil question. I should be thankfu’ to yo’ if yo’d give me work. Hamper will speak to my being a good hand.”
“I’ve a notion you’d better not send me to Hamper to ask for a character, my man. I might hear more than you’d like.”
“I’d take th’ risk. Worst they could say of me is, that I did what I thought best, even to my own wrong.”
“You’d better go and try them, then, and see whether they’ll give you work. I’ve turned off upwards of a hundred of my best hands, for no other fault than following you and such as you; and d’ye think I’ll take you on? I might as well put a fire-brand into the midst of the cotton-waste.”
Higgins turned away: then the recollection of Boucher came over him, and he faced round with the greatest concession he could persuade himself to make.