Jagger’s saw went on biting into the board, but before long it was allowed to rest again.
“What did you send Baldwin home for?”
Maniwel came forward and leaned against the bench where he could see his son’s face and watch its expression.
“ ’Cause I knew you’d something you wanted to say,” he answered; “and there was naught partic’lar for him to do. He’ll be company for grannie.”
“Knew I’d something to say?” The question was intended for a denial; but Jagger’s cheeks told another story.
“And I guessed,” continued his father calmly; “ ’at it had something to do wi’ him. Out wi’t!”
“You beat all!” said Jagger in a tone that showed how admiration had conquered discomfiture. “It’s as bad as having them X-rays you read about i’ t’ shop! A man may think what he isn’t prepared to speak, and I don’t know ’at I was going to say aught.”
“When there’s any bile about, whether on t’ mind or t’ stomach,” said Maniwel dryly, “t’ best way is to get shut on’t. We shall none fall out if you speak your mind straight about Baldwin.”
Now that the opportunity was afforded and his confidence invited it surprised Jagger to find how little there was to say, and how difficult it was to say that little. In the olden days he would probably have sought refuge in surly silence; but now he looked frankly into his father’s face and blurted out—
“Home isn’t t’ same since Baldwin came into it. He’d choke t’ song out of a throstle with his sour looks! It isn’t ’at I grudge him bite and sup, and he’s welcome to try to pick up a living alongside of us, but I can’t bide a wet-blanket on our own hearthston’, and I know Hannah feels t’ same.”