“I hadn’t going to say much,” said Sim, who had been standing with folded arms, looking contemptuously at the crowd around; “but, I say this—if I was to go on as you do I’d hate mysen. Wheer’s your paytriotism? Wheer’s your risings against tyranny? Wheer’s your British wucking man rising like a lion in his might?”
“Yes,” said a shrill female voice from a window, “but your British lion wucking man wants his dinner, don’t he?”
There was a roar of laughter at this. “Yah!” said Sim, contemptuously. “Why do I wuck mysen to death for you all, to be badgered for it?”
“I don’t know,” said the same voice from the window, sounding more shrill than ever, “but I know this, Sim Slee, that my bairns is all pining, while their father’s doing nowt but walk about wi’ his hands in his pockets, and if things don’t soon change, some o’ them as got up this strike ’ll be put oonder the poomp, and if the men don’t do it uz women will.”
Sim folded his arms, looked round contemptuously as there rose another shout of laughter, and stalked off to walk to the station and meet the deputation, as he called the man he had invited to come down.
Volume Two—Chapter Nineteen.
The Foreman’s Apology.
There was, indeed, a calm, but to the vicar it seemed a very deceitful one, and he spent many an uneasy hour in thinking whether it was likely when the men grew excited they would attack the house; but he always came back to the conclusion that Richard would be safe there, so long as he did nothing more to exasperate his workmen.