Presently, as they walked on, Peter Lamb stopped them. "I'd like to speak to you for a moment, Mr. Penhallow." Mrs. Penhallow walked on.
"What is it?" said the Squire.
"I'm all right now—I'll never drink again. I want some work—and mother's sick."
"We will see to her, but you get no more work from me."
"Why, what's the matter, sir?"
"Matter! You might ask Josiah if he were here. You know well enough what you did—and now I am done with you."
"So help me God, I never—"
"Oh! get out of my way. You are a miserable, lying, ungrateful man, and I have done with you."
He walked away conscious of having again lost his temper, which was rare. The red-faced man he left stood still, his lips parted, the large yellow teeth showing. "It's that damned parson," he said.
Penhallow rejoined his wife. "What did he want?" she asked.