Kit's mood was hardly normal. He was not often rash, but he felt sore and rebellious and this had a stronger influence than he knew. Miss Osborn liked him, but her father's rank and traditions were daunting obstacles. Kit felt this was unjust, and raw passions and prejudices that he was, as a rule, too sensible to indulge, got the mastery.
"My father is right," he said. "We have started a fight with Bell; he's a dangerous man to rouse and will make us pay, unless we beat him. Besides, he has made some pay already. Old rheumatic men and young children starved by half-empty grates when the snow stopped us getting the peat, and you have seen the profits you worked hard for melt before the price Bell charged for cattle-meal. He's been getting greedier, until he imagined he could rob us as he liked, and since he has forced us into the quarrel, my notion is we ought to fight it out."
Peter looked surprised, but did not speak, and there was silence for a few moments. Then one said:
"I'm with Kit. We'll hoad on until Bell comes doon seven-and-six. If he does, we'll talk aboot it again."
After some argument, the rest agreed, and when they went away Peter turned to his son.
"Mayhappen you've sent them t' right road, but I dinna ken! I'm none fond o' fratching, unless I'm forced."
"We are forced," Kit answered moodily.
Peter gave him a keen glance and then spread out his hands.
"It's possible. For aw that, it wadn't ha' done much harm to give t' man his chance o' makin' peace."
Kit did not answer, but went out, and Askew sat by the fire with a thoughtful look. Something had happened to the lad, and Peter wondered what it was. He felt vaguely disturbed, but could see no light.