The carriage swept on, followed by the hooting and groans of the whole community, men, women, and children, who were now massed along the street on either hand.
"It's easy to see this man Gregson's a new hand," said Fontenoy, with an
accent of annoyance, as they got clear of the village. "I believe the
Wattons have only just imported him, otherwise he'd never have avoided
Marraby, and come round by Battage."
"Battage has some special connection with Burrows, hasn't it? I had forgotten."
"Of course. He was check-weigher at the Acme pit here for years, before they made him district secretary of the union."
"That's why they gave me such a hot meeting here a fortnight ago!—I remember now; but one thing drives another out of one's head. Well, I daresay you and I'll have plenty more to do with Burrows before we've done."
Tressady threw himself back in his corner with a yawn.
Fontenoy laughed.
"There'll be another big strike some time next year," he said drily—"bound to be, as far as I can see. We shall all have plenty to do with Burrows then."
"All right," said Tressady, indistinctly, pulling his hat over his eyes. "Burrows or anybody else may blow me up next year, so long as they let me go to sleep now."
However, he did not find it so easy to go to sleep. His pulses were still tingling under the emotions of the day and the stimulus of the hubbub they had just passed through. His mind raced backwards and forwards over the incidents and excitements of the last six months, over the scenes of his canvass—and over some other scenes of a different kind which had taken place in the country-house whither he and Fontenoy were returning.