'Can't say what we mightn't have been obliged to do,' said the man.

'I don't see how you are obliged to do anything unless you like; but was
that what they wanted you to do?' persisted Horatia.

'That was one thing. But, see here, missy, if you can speak a word for
us, do 'e. They say you can do a lot wi' the master; he's a bit too hard
wi' us, and the young uns won't stand it. That's where the trouble will
come in.'

'What kind of trouble?' inquired Horatia.

The man did not look at her. He was gray-haired, and had been at Clay's
Mills for twenty years, and had an affection for the place. Besides
which, he was 'used to the master's ways,' and knew that a good workman
earned good wages and need not fear being turned off so long as he did
good work; but the younger men hated Mark Clay, and there were fewer old
men there than in most mills, for the moment they got ill or showed signs
of feebleness in any way they were discharged. Mark Clay lost more than
he gained, for they would have kept the younger ones in order. But all
this the man did not say to Horatia; he only repeated, 'I can't say what
they might not do when their blood's up.'

'But tell me what they say they'll do.'

'Strike,' said the man. 'But you'd best not repeat that,' he added,
almost regretting his confidence, and going off for fear of adding more.

'There's a fool's trick you've been at, Sam,' said a comrade, 'a-telling
that young lady what the men say. She'll repeat it all to the master.'

'I never breathed a word of their threats. I only said they'd strike, and
he knows they've threatened that before.'

'You didn't say a word about what them young lads said they'd do--you
know what?' the other demanded. 'They'd be turned off to-morrow if he got
wind on 't.'

'D' ye think I'm a fool? Of course I didn't. But I'll tell you what.
They've got som'at in their heads at Balmoral, for that young lady kept
on asking what they would do and what trouble there would be if the
master didn't do what we asked him,' retorted the first speaker.

The second looked gloomily before him. 'It'll be a bad day for my Tom if
them words of his get repeated to the master; and it's nought but lads'
hotheaded talk; they don't mean it.'

'I'm none so sure o' that, mate; but it's best to forget it. Anyway, the
master's off gallivanting for the day, and mayhap it'll take his mind off
the mills a bit. If he'd do that more frequent it 'u'd be better for
all--better for h