Jagger flushed and Hannah took up arms in his defence.
“You must remember what he’s had to put up with, father; more’n you and me. There isn’t many ’ud have taken it so quietly!”
“That may be, lass, and I’m not denying it; but it ’ud grieve me to think ’at Jagger was a murderer in his heart—”
“Sure-ly there’s someb’dy knocking!” said grannie whose head had been bent towards the door during this admonition.
“I heard naught,” said Hannah, but she rose and went to the door. “There is someb’dy!” she said as she raised the latch and opened it; “Why, it’s Mr. Briggs!”
“Baldwin!” Maniwel was on his feet in an instant—“Bring him in, lass!”
It was a scared and pitiable figure that stepped hesitatingly into the cheerful light, and leaned against the dresser. An old workshop cap remained forgotten on his head, and the worn coat was that in which he had been accustomed to do his roughest work. Very old and frail he looked as his dull eyes fixed themselves on Maniwel, and the hands that hung straight down moved tremulously.
“He’s turned me out, Maniwel!”
It was almost a cry: it was certainly an appeal, though the words were not so eloquent as the eyes.
“Turned tha out!” repeated Maniwel incredulously. “What does tha mean Inman?”