“Yes,” I said, “he did.”
“And they’ll knobstick ’im for it if they know—see if they don’t!”
“Then they mustn’t know,” I cried eagerly. “I don’t like Stevens, but he did save me this morning.”
“Ay, he did, ’cause he said once yow weer a trump, my lad; but he didn’t give me a word. I sha’n’t tell on him, but I sha’n’t hev nought more to do wi’ anny on ’em. I’ve been union man all these years and paid, and here’s what I’ve got for it. I says to mysen, I says: If this here’s what comes o’ sticking to union through all their games I’ve done wi’ ’em, and I’m a master’s man—that’s all.”
He turned short round to go, but Uncle Dick stopped him.
“I don’t quite understand what you mean, Pannell.”
“What I mean! Why, what I said—that’s what I mean.”
“That you have done with the trades-union, Pannell,” I cried, “and mean to be on our side?”
“That’s so, mester. Now I mun go or my fire’ll be out.”
He strode out of the place and banged the door after him; and as he went along the shop I could see him in imagination staring defiantly from side to side, in answer to the savage murmur that greeted him from the men whom he had made up his mind to defy.