“Well, well,” said Maniwel cheerily; “we’re partly as we’re made, Swithin, and partly as we make ourselves, and there’s few of us ’at don’t carry both coal-sacks and meal-sacks about wi’ us; and it’s as much as we can do to see ’at we don’t use one for t’other ourselves without peeping into our neighbour’s storeholes. Baldwin isn’t all bad, as I can bear witness ’at worked alongside of him thirty year and more.”
“Maybe not,” conceded Swithin in a doubtful voice. “There’s worse, I dare say, if bad ’uns could all be put through t’ sieve. This here Inman now——”
“Aye,” interrupted old Ambrose with as much energy as his feeble frame was capable of; “but they’re both plannin’ an’ schemin’ for one end which is nayther more nor less nor to put a spoke i’ Maniwel’s wheel; an’ t’owd saying is reyt, ’at a man mud as weel eat the divel his-sen as t’ broth he’s boiled in. Baldwin swallows all this young fellow puts on his plate; and if one’s worse nor t’other it’s both on ’em. You can trust Maniwel to see what isn’t there; but I say they’re a pair o’ ill ’uns, an’ nowt but mischief is like to come when sich a pair o’ black crows get their ’eads together.”
“My word, but Ambrose has getten steam up,” said the landlord admiringly, as he leaned for a moment against the mantelpiece and held one hand towards the flame. “Since Inman came he’s had to bottle his-self a bit; but wi’ him being away for t’ holidays he’s blowing off i’ t’ old style.”
“He’s a black-hearted ’un,” began the old man again excitedly, but Maniwel interposed.
“He’s no friend o’ mine, right enough, Ambrose; but i’ this country we reckon a man innocent while he’s proved guilty, and it’s no blame to this Inman ’at he does his best for his own master. And seeing ’at Jagger and me know ’at we have t’ good will of all our neighbours we don’t ruffle our feathers over their goings-on same as a hen when it sees a hawk. Right enough, they’ve tried to rut t’ road a bit, but they can’t block it, so you’ve no ’casion to worry about us.”
“It was Inman ’at put Baldwin up to t’ trick of holding t’ whip over Joe Gardiner,” said one of the younger men. “Joe told me himself ’at Inman had done it, and threatened him ’at if he carried timber for you they’d start a dray o’ their own.”
“All right, my lad,” replied Maniwel, who knew better than any present what ingenious plans had been prepared and executed to hamper his business; how not only the carrier had been suborned to delay the carriage of his goods, but the timber-merchants themselves had been warned of the risk they were running in affording him supplies. These, and a dozen similar annoyances he and his son had suffered in silence, and had succeeded in countering with more or less difficulty.
“I don’t doubt but what you’re right, and no doubt he’d ha’ liked me and Jagger to pull a face over t’ job. But I’m a pig-headed chap myself, and bad to move when I get set; and it’s a theory o’ mine ’at a man who goes t’ straight road’ll find fewer pits to fall into than them ’at goes crook’d. And that being so I’ve never been one to wet my handkercher and try to make t’ ship move wi’ groaning into t’ sails; but just keep jogging on wi’ a good heart, and when one stick fails me, find another.”
A movement of pots and feet indicated the applause of Maniwel’s audience, for though there was not a man among them who understood and shared his philosophy, his uprightness and geniality had made most men his well-wishers.