The Parson O' Dumford Part 54

"But how did you get knocked about like that?" said the vicar, smiling to himself.

"That cursed d.i.c.ky Glaire set upon me," moaned Sim, one of whose eyes was swollen up, while there was a cut across the bridge of his nose.

"He's mad wi' me because I wouldn't help him to carry off Daisy Banks to London, and he's leathered me this how. But I'll hev it out of him yet."

"Did d.i.c.ky Glaire want yow to get her away?" said Mrs Slee.

"Yes, a coward, and I wouldn't," said Sim, "so he's done it his sen."

"Be careful what you are saying, Mr Slee," said the vicar, snipping a strip of sticking-plaister off a piece in his pocket-book with his nail-scissors, and breathing upon it to make it warm.

"Keerful," said Sim; "he deserves to be hung for it."

"Do you mean to a.s.sert that Mr Glaire has done this? Because if so, you will have to substantiate your statement before a magistrate."

"I don't say for certain as he has," said Sim; "but he wanted me to, and I wouldn't. Oh! oh! oh!"

"Stand still, man, and don't be such a cur," cried the vicar, sharply, for he had been applying the plaister to Sim's slight cut, and the hero had begun to howl dismally.

"It's half killing me," cried Sim, again.

"Take hold of his head, Mrs Slee; the cut is nothing at all."

Mrs Slee seized Sim pretty roughly, and held him by his ears, while the plaister was affixed, the great orator moaning and flinching and writhing till he was set at liberty.

"Is it bad, sir?" said Mrs Slee, then.

"So bad," said the vicar, "that if a schoolboy of nine or ten received such a drubbing from a playmate, he would have washed his face and said nothing about it."

"Said nowt about it!" cried Sim. "Aye, it's easy for them as aint hurt to talk. Thou'lt come home wi' me, lovey?"

"No. Go thee gate," said Mrs Slee.

"Do 'ee come, lovey," said Sim.

"I wean't," said Mrs Slee, shortly; and without more ado, she took her lord by the shoulders, and guided him to the door, which she closed upon him, leaving him to make his way up the street, vowing vengeance against Richard Glaire, the parson, and all the world.

In fact, mischief was brewing, and would have come to a head sooner but for the episode of Daisy's disappearance. A deputation of the men had waited upon Richard Glaire, and offered terms for coming back to work; but he had obstinately held out for the reparation to be made, increasing the value he had previously set upon the destroyed bands, and declaring that if he were not paid a hundred and fifty pounds damages, he would keep the works closed.

"Thou'lt be sorry for this, Maister," said the man who acted as spokesman.

"Sorry!" said Richard, defiantly. "I'm sorry I ever had such a set of curs to work for me."

"But we've telled you as it was none o' us."

"I don't care who it was," retorted Richard; "I want a hundred and fifty pounds for the damage done; and I ought to have payment for my losses by the foundry standing still."

"Our wives and bairns 'll soon be pined to dead," said another man.

"You should have thought of that before," said Richard, coldly. "A hundred and fifty pounds made up amongst you, and the fires may be lit, and we'll go on once more; till that's paid I'll keep the place locked up if I'm ruined by it."

Then came the disappearance of Daisy Banks, and it wanted but little on the part of Sim Slee to half madden the weaker spirits against the man who was starving their wives and children, and had robbed Joe Banks of his daughter.

It so happened that Joe Banks, on the day following Sim's doctoring, about a fortnight after the disappearance, during which time he had not seen Mrs Glaire, but only Eve, who had been again and again to try and administer comfort to Mrs Banks, came upon a knot of men, listening to an oration made by Sim Slee, who, as soon as he saw Joe coming up in company with Tom Podmore, who was his staunch and faithful ally throughout, cried loudly:

"Here he comes! Here comes the downtrodden, ill-used paytriot, who has served the rotten family for thirty year, and then been robbed for his pains. He's agoing to join my brotherhood now, lads--him and Tom Podmore."

"Hooray!" cried the men.

"And he'll be a captain and a leader among us as is going to beat down the oppressors and robbers of our flocks and herds. He's agoing, lads, to pull down with us the bloated Aristorchus, as is living on his oil olive, and honey, while we heven't bread to put in the mouths of our bairns."

There was a groan here from the little crowd, some of whom readily accepted Sim Slee's Aristorchus, as they would have taken in any loud-sounding word in their present humour.

"Come on, brave captain, as hev had your eye-lids opened to the malice and wickedness of your employer, and join them as is going to groan no more under the harrows and ploughshares of oppression. It is said as the ox or beast shan't be muzzled as treadeth out the corn, and we aint agoing to let that oppressor, d.i.c.ky Glaire, muzzle us any more."

"Hooray!" cried the growing crowd.

"Come on, then, brave captain. Lads, Joe Banks is a man as we'll be proud to serve wi'; and wi' Tom Podmore too, for they've cast off their slough"--Sim called this "sluff"--"of blindness, and hev awaked to the light and glory of liberty. Come on."

"What do you mean?" said Joe Banks, firmly.

"Mean, brave captain and leader!" cried Sim, making his plaid waistcoat wrinkle with his exertions; "why, that we're going to trample down him as robbed thee of thy bairn."

"Who's that?" said Joe Banks, sternly.

"Who's that? Ask anybody here if it aint d.i.c.ky Glaire, the oppressor, as is going to sneak outer the town to-night to catch the mail train over yonder at the station, and then going to laugh and sneer and mock at the poor, grey old father as he's deceived, and--"

"It's a lie," roared Joe. "Who says Richard Glaire took away my poor murdered bairn?"

"Everybody," said Sim, who was standing on a wall about five feet high, his plaistered face giving him rather a grotesque aspect. "Everybody says it."

"No," roared Joe, "it's you as says it, you lying, chattering magpie.

Howd thee tongue, or I'll--"

He seized the speaker by the legs, and had him down in an instant, clutched by the throat, and began shaking him violently.

"Go on," said Sim, who this time preserved his presence of mind. "I aint the first paytriot as has been a martyr to his cause; kill me if you like."

"Kill thee, thou noisy starnel of a man! Say as it's a lie again your maister, or I'll shake thee till thou dost."

"I wean't say it's a lie," cried Sim. "Ask anybody if it aint true."

Joe Banks looked round furiously, and a chorus broke out of, "It's true, lad; it's true."

"There," cried Sim, triumphantly. "What hev you to say to that? Ask Tom Podmore what he thinks."

"I will," cried Joe Banks, who was somewhat staggered by the unanimity of opinion. "Tom Podmore, speak out like a true man and tell these all as it's a lie."

Tom remained silent.