“He cares nowt about owt sin’ Inman wed Nancy,” commented Swithin. “That explains Jagger, and there’s no more to be said.”
“Nay, there’s more nor that, Swithin,” said Ambrose. “You can judge t’ foal better when you know it’s sire, and Maniwel explains Jagger. T’ lad’s been a bit slow at findin’ his feet, but there’s nowt like a storm for drivin’ a man to t’ rock, and Jagger frames to follow after his fayther.”
“He mud do worse,” said some man whom Ambrose could not see.
“And that’s a trew word,” said Swithin, still gloomily, for his thoughts were divided.
“Right enough,” the landlord admitted; “but whether it’s a fault or a merit for Maniwel to take things so calm-like is a thing ’at a man can’t easy settle in his mind. Baldwin’s spread tales about ’em while there’s scarce a timber-yard i’ t’ country ’at’ll give ’em credit. They’ve clipped Joe his wings so as he dursn’t carry for ’em. Any man ’at supplies Maniwel is crossed off Baldwin’s books; and even them ’at’s given him a bit o’ work has been warned ’at if they go there for t’ little jobs they needn’t turn to Baldwin for them ’at’s too big for Maniwel to tackle. And now ’at he’s lost his brass, be it much or little, what chance has he?”
Most of those present shook their heads in reluctant agreement with the landlord, but Swithin turned so that he could look Albert in the face, and snapped an aggressive—“Well?”
“I was only meaning,” the landlord explained, “’at it doesn’t seem sort o’ natural for a man to be so cheerful i’ them circumstances, and to bear no grudge——”
“Well, ’cos why is he cheerful and doesn’t bear no grudge?” questioned Swithin, whose manner in this examination was anything but cheerful, and who seemed to be seeking a vent for his over-charged feelings. “I’ll tell you ’cos why! Have you never heard tell o’ God’s will? Well, Maniwel believes ’at there’s a power at t’ back o’ that man ’at goes straight and tries to do his duty by his neighbour ’at not all the devils i’ hell can stand again’, let alone such little devils as this Inman.”
His head fell as he mentioned the name, and not one of the company needed to be told that the seed Jack Pearce had dropped was already germinating.
Old Ambrose knew it; but his soul had been fired by this new thought, and he broke out eagerly: