wance for other folk."

"So us must; an' I be allus doin' it; so why the hell doan't they make
allowance for me? That's why I boil awver now an' again--damn it! I gets
nought but kicks for my halfpence--allus have; an' I won't stand it from
mortal man much longer!"

Chris kept her face, for Will's views on conduct and man's whole duty to
man were no new thing.

"Us must keep patient, Will, 'specially with the auld."

"I be patient. It 'mazes me, looking back, to see what I have suffered
in my time. But a man's a man, not a post or a holy angel. Us wouldn't
hear such a deal about angels' tempers either if they'd got to faace all
us have."

"That's profanity an' wickedness."

"'Tis truth. Any fule can be a saint inside heaven; an' them that was
born theer and have flown 'bout theer all theer time, like birds in a
wood, did ought to be even-tempered. What's to cross'em?"

"You shouldn't say such things!"

Suddenly a light came into his eyes.

"I doan't envy 'em anyway. Think what it must be never to have no mother
to love 'e! They 'm poor, motherless twoads, for all their gold crowns
an' purple wings."

"Will! whatever will 'e say next? Best go to Clem. An' forget what I
spoke 'bout Martin Grimbal an' work. You was wiser'n me in that."

"I s'pose so. If a man ban't wiser 'n his sister, he's like to have poor
speed in life," said Will.

Then he departed, but the events of that day were still very far from an
end, and despite the warning of Chris, her brother soon stood on the
verge of another quarrel. It needed little to wake fresh storms in his
breast and he criticised Clement's reticence on the subject of his
engagement in so dictatorial and hectoring a manner that the elder man
quickly became incensed. They wrangled for half an hour, Hicks in
satirical humour, Will loud with assurances that he would have no
underhand dealings where any member of his family was concerned. Clement
presently watched the other tramp off, and in his mind was a dim
thought. Could Blanchard forget the past so quickly? Did he recollect
that he, Clement Hicks, shared knowledge of it? "He's a fool, whichever
way you look at him," thought the poet; "but hardly such a fool as to
forget that, or risk angering me of all men."

Later in the day Will called at a tap-room, drank half a pint of beer,
and detailed his injuries for the benefit of those in the bar. He asked
what man amongst them, situated as he had been, had acted otherwise;