“I know,” I said. “I’ve seen Mrs Gentles every day, and he leaves the infirmary to-morrow.”
“Cured?”
“Yes; only he will walk a little lame, that’s all, and only for a month or two.”
“Well, take care of the place, Cob,” said Uncle Jack. “I don’t suppose the men will interfere with you, but if they do you can retreat.”
“If you thought they would interfere with me,” I said, “you would not go.”
They all laughed, and, as we had arranged, they left the works one by one, and I went on just as usual, looking in at one place, and then another, to see how the men were going on, before returning to the office and copying some letters left for me to do.
It was a month since the adventure with the trap, and to see the men no one could have imagined that there was the slightest discontent among them.
Pannell had said very little, though I had expected he would; in fact he seemed to have turned rather surly and distant to me. As for the other men, they did their work in their regular independent style, and I had come to the conclusion that my best way was to treat all alike, and not make special friends, especially after the melancholy mistake I had made in putting most faith in one who was the greatest scoundrel in the place.
My uncles had gone to the next town to meet a firm of manufacturers who had been making overtures that seemed likely to be profitable, and this day had been appointed for the meeting.
After a time I went into Pannell’s smithy, to find him hammering away as earnestly as ever, with his forehead covered with dew, his throat open, and his shirt-sleeves rolled up, so as to give his great muscles full play.