The tailor: “Human nature is human nature, and nobody can deny he prophesied my lord’s death.”
“I dare you to charge my father with the crime,” cried young Saltren. “I warn you. I have laid by a little money, and I will spend it in prosecuting the man who does.”
“We all do. Prosecute the parish,” rose in a general shout.
“My father is incapable of the crime.”
“We have no quarrel with you, young Jingles,” roared a miner. “Our contention is with the captain. Mates, what do y’ say? Shall we pay him a visit?”
“Aye—aye!” from all sides. “Let us show him our minds.”
A boisterous voice exclaimed: “We’ll serve him out for taking the bread out of our mouths. We’ll tumble his house about his ears. He sha’n’t stand in our light any more.”
And another called, “If you want to prosecute us, we’ll provide you with occasion.”
Then a stone was flung, which struck Jingles on the head and knocked him down.
For a few minutes the young man was unconscious, or rather confused, he never quite lost his senses. The women clustered about him, and Mrs. Tregose threw water in his face.