“Don’t you call that saying I telled on ’em, wi’out the poother in my forge this morning?”
“A cowardly brutal thing to have done, my man.”
“Ay, so ’twas. I’d done nowt but be civil to young mester here. Say,” he cried fiercely, “yow telled ’em I forged that trap!” and he turned on me.
“Oh, Pannell!” I cried, flushing indignantly.
That was all I said, but it was enough.
“Beg pardon, young gentleman!—yow didn’t, I can see that. Nay, it was the altogetherishness o’ the whole thing. They set me down—me, a mate in the union—as hevvin’ telled on ’em and gone agen ’em, and being friends wi’ the mesters; and yow see what they’ve done.”
“Indeed we do, Pannell—”
“Howd hard, mester,” said the big smith, flourishing about his hammer. “I hevn’t had my spell yet. I want to speak.”
Uncle Dick nodded, as much as to say, “Go on.”
“Look here, then, mesters—I’ve thowt this out. It’s cowards’ business, ivvery bit on it, ’cept Matt Stivvins this morning coming and fetching young mester out of the way.”