“And she wouldn’t,” said Sim, grinning.
“Yes, she would, and did,” said the landlord. “She was all alone in the house; for I was out in the close, and she thowt it best to be civil to ’em; but she kept a pretty sharp eye on ’em all the time.”
“Then John Maine’s had a hand in it; see if he ain’t,” said Sim.
“Don’t know so much about that,” said the landlord. “Some say as you know more than you keer to tell.”
“Perhaps I do, and perhaps I don’t,” said Sim, sententiously. “There’s things as I know on, and things as I don’t. I’m going now.”
“Tell the owd woman to hap you up well to-night, Sim,” said one.
“Say, Sim,” said another, “ask her to get out her scithers and coot thee hair.”
“You’re going agates early, Sim,” said another.
“Yes, I’m off,” said Sim; “and mebbe it’ll be some time before you see me here again, or mebbe I shall be here again to-morrow night. Good-night, all,” and he went out, looking very triumphant, telling himself that he had been too much for “that lot,” and that he knew what he was about.
There were those present, though, who were not above saying that it was on account of Tom Podmore coming in, to sit near the door, looking wearied out with anxiety as he let his head drop upon his hand, and sat there thoughtful and silent, while those present, knowing his feelings towards the missing girl, changed the subject that they were resuming, and entered upon the question of the duration of the strike.