Mr. Briggs’ hands were lost in his pockets, and his whole attitude (for in the dim light his features were scarcely visible) betokened indifference. When he spoke his voice was charged with contempt, and his sneering tone brought an approving smile to the newcomer’s face.
“Nay, I’ve none changed, Jagger; not I. I was for my-sen then and I’m for my-sen now.”
“And that’s God’s truth,” replied the other bitterly. “And your heart’s like your own grunstone too. I’m hanged if I’d stay with you if my hands weren’t tied, but needs must when the devil drives, and father’s too old to shift.”
“My hands aren’t tied,” the other replied with a sudden fierce passion that electrified the atmosphere and startled the stranger. The voice became a hiss, and the man’s face was bent forward until his cap almost touched the other’s forehead. A string of curses followed which, so far from relieving the pressure, seemed only to accentuate the master’s wrath.
“My hands aren’t tied,” he repeated, “and I’ll just manage without your help, Jagger Drake. I’m stalled of your long tongue and your milksop ways; and to be shut of you at t’ cost of a week’s wages’ll be a cheap bargain, so you can take yourself off to where they’ll do better for you. Here——:”
He pulled out a purse, and having carefully counted sundry silver coins offered them to the young man who mechanically stretched out his hand to receive them. When they were in his palm the fingers did not close over them, nor did the hand drop.
“I’m sacked, then?” he asked in a low, uncomprehending voice.
“You’re sacked,” the other answered hotly. “Do you think I’m forced to stand here to be jawed at; let alone ’at you rob me out o’ good money, nearhand as oft as you do a job for me?”
“Rob you?”
“Aye, rob me! What else is it but robbery when you spend half as long again over a job as any other man? I haven’t forgot that there bit o’ work at Lane End, and the lip you gave me.”