He was sat in the snug, a pot of ale before him, scarce tasted; a youth not more than twenty-one or two years old, with pale face, long lank dark hair that fell on either side a high and narrow brow. His eye was dark and melancholy, his lip's somewhat thin. His face was bare of beard, of an oval shape, and womanish. He had a low, soft voice, and spoke more town like than I was used to. But he had a sweet smile and a winning, caressing way that partly irritated me because I thought it out of place in a man. But it was very hard to stand against all the same. "I am glad to see you, Mr. Bamforth," he said, placing a hand that, despite his trade, was small and white, in my own big, brawny fist. He looked very slim by the side of me as we stood hand in hand, for I am six feet and more and big built, and thanks be to God hard as nails and little bent even yet. But it is mind, my children, not matter, that rules the world. See how he tickled me at the very start,--"Mr. Bamforth"--there was a whole page of delicate flattery in the very words and way of breathing on it. It meant I was a man. It meant I was of some place and power in his reckoning of me. I felt myself flush, and I grew bigger to myself. Why, I do not think anyone had ever called me "Mr. Bamforth" before. Even 'Siah, our teamer, called me "Ben." The Vicar at the Church called me "Ben," and ruffled me not a little by the patronizing way he had. Mr. Webster, at the Powle, called me "Ben;" but that I did not mind, for he said it as though he loved me. "I am glad to see you. Any friend of George Mellor's is welcome, but your father's son is thrice welcome. George, do you go in and prepare our friends to receive a new member. Set all things in order, and I will talk meanwhile with your cousin." "And so, Mr. Bamforth," he continued. "Nay, call me Bamforth, or plain Ben," I said. "Well, Ben be it then--And so, Ben, you, too, are willing to strike a blow for the poor and oppressed." "I don't know about striking blows," I said. "To tell the truth I am here because I said I would be here; but what I am here for I do not know, except that I am here to learn why I am here. It's true enough my heart is heavy for the poor; but what I can do, and saving your presence what you can do, or George, or such as us, passes my wit." "We can try, at least, the force of union," he made answer. "We can try what the force of numbers will do. We can entreat; we can threaten"-- "But what is a bark without a bite?" I asked. "And how can you bite without setting your own teeth on edge?"