d scorn to do such a thing; but when he gets half on, and has no more
money, and credit stopped, the craving's too much for him, and he'd sell
the bed from under him--anything he's got, I do believe, except his
pups;" and she pointed to some of Juno's great grandchildren, which
were, as usual, lying before the fire, a mere handful of coal now, in
comparison with past times.

"I'll pick out a parcel of them that will be useful to me," Jack said,
"and take them away. The rest may go. And now look here, mother. After
paying you for my board, I have had for a long time now some eight
shillings a week over. I have spent some in books, but second-hand books
are very cheap--as dad will find when he tries to sell them. So I've
got some money put by. It don't matter how much, but plenty to keep the
wolf away while the strike lasts. But I don't mean, mother, to have my
savings drunk away. I'm getting sixteen bob a week, and I can live on
ten or eleven, so I'll send you five shillings a week. But dad mustn't
know it. I'll be home in a month again, and I'll leave you a pound, so
that you can get food in. If he thinks about it at all, which ain't
likely, you can make out you get it on tick. Well, dad, how are you?" he
asked, as Bill Haden entered the cottage.

"Ah, Jack, lad, how be it with 'ee?"

"All right, dad; getting on well. And how are things here?"

"Bad, Jack. Those scoundrels, the masters, they won't give in; but we're
bound to beat 'em--bound to. If they don't come to our terms we mean to
call the engine-men, and the hands they've got to keep the ways clear,
out of the pits. That'll bring 'em to their senses quick enough. I've
been for it all along."

"Call off the engine-hands!" Jack said, in tones of alarm; "you ain't
going to do such a mad thing as that! Why, if the water gains, and the
mines get flooded, it'll be weeks, and maybe months, before the mines
can be cleared and put in working order; and what will you all be doing
while that's being done?"

"It'll bring 'em to their senses, lad," Bill Haden said, bringing his
hand down on the table with a thump. "They mean to starve us; we'll ruin
them. There, let's have the price of a quart, Jack; I'm dry."

Jack saw that argument against this mad scheme would be of no use, for
his foster-father was already half-drunk, so he handed him a shilling,
and with a shrug of his shoulders walked off to Mr. Merton's.

He had long since written to his master, saying that he