“Anybody seen owt of him since?” ventured Warton, the saddler.
There was silence for a few moments, and then Tomlinson spoke.
“I haven’t seen him down,” he said. “In fact, I know he has not been, for old Michael Ross has been up to see him and hear the rights of the case.”
“Yes?” said two or three, eagerly.
“Ah! he don’t say anything about the rights and wrongs; only that he doesn’t think Joseph Portlock’s girl behaved well to him.”
“Oh! I don’t know,” said Fullerton. “What call had a girl like that to consider herself bound to a wandering man who couldn’t settle down like a Christian? I think she did quite right to give him up.”
“And marry young Mallow?”
“But they are not married yet, my boy,” said Fullerton, shaking his head; “and it’s my belief that they won’t be. He’s a flyaway, wild, scapegrace of a fellow. It’ll come to nought, but I do think young Ross ought to be punished same as any other man. Fair play and no favour for me.”
“Very good sentiment, Mr Fullerton,” said Warton.
“Make it your own motto, then, Mr Warton,” said Fullerton, proudly. “As I says to Michael Ross, when I was talking to him, yesterday—no, it was the day before yesterday—no, stop, it was yesterday. ‘I believe in fair play,’ I said.