"Get along wi' ye! There's no mak o' shame i' th' young fowk nowadays, no shame at all. It taks a likelier nor ye, Mr. Griff, to trail Betty Binns. Now, will ye let me shut th' door, or willun't ye?" "Parting, Betty, is such sweet sorrow, that I----?" He found himself talking to the bare oak of the door, and laughed mightily, in his boy's way, as he swung down the garden-path and into the highroad. Remembering, later in the evening, that his whisky had run out, he slipped across to the Bull to buy a bottle. A crowd of idlers was hanging about the steps, with Joe Strangeways conspicuous in their midst. Joe was in his usual condition of semi-drunkenness, and he scowled on seeing Lomax approach. "That's him," muttered a companion; "tha wert talking big, Joe, about what tha'd do to him when tha cotched him. Now's thy chance." The tone was ironical, and did not suggest any great confidence in the quarryman's practical bravery. Strangeways felt that he must make a demonstration of some kind, in view of a few recent utterances of his. He squared his shoulders so as to dispute possession of the doorway, thrust out his lower jaw, and regarded Griff with an air of sullen mockery. "There's a saying, Griff Lummax, that lang i' th' leg spells soft i' th' heäd," he observed, repeating his favourite little pleasantry. A chuckle sounded from the bystanders. Griff stopped on the lowest step, took his pipe out of his mouth, and regarded Strangeways with an air of quiet gravity; when he spoke, it was with a good Yorkshire brogue that not one of the bystanders could have bettered. "There's another saying, mate. Lang i' th' drink spells short i' th' wit." A big laugh went up at that. They were fond of Griff at Marshcotes, and they liked to find him ready with his tongue. Joe's face grew red, with a dash of purple about the gills. He had nothing to say, so confined himself to filling the doorway a little more completely. "I want to pass," said Griff. "Oh, tha dost, dost 'a? Well, it's gooid for young 'uns to want." "I want to pass," repeated Griff. "So tha said," responded the quarryman, emboldened by the other's quietness. "And how if tha'rt not going to be let pass?" Griff said not another word, but took the four steps in one easy bound, twisted Joe round in his hands, set his foot to the man's heel and his right arm to his chest, and lowered him gently to the ground, where he lay with his feet on the threshold and his head on the bottom step. Then he went indoors and did his business. "It's time tha wert wending home, Joe," suggested one of the crowd. "It taks a likelier nor thee to tackle Griff Lummax." "Lang i' th' leg, an' strong i' th' arm," laughed another. Joe, having got to his feet again, shambled off towards the churchyard gate. "Bide a bit, lads," he growled. "Bide till I've getten my fist round th' heft of a knife, and I'll cut th' bleeding heart out on him."