And with this sarcasm, 'Siah dug his head into Bess's ribs and began a vigorous scrubbing that set the old mare dancing and stamping, and put an effective end to further confidences. That was a gloomy week at our house. Mary was as contrary as contrary could be, my mother was sad and tearful, my father glum and stern. He told me that if it was all the same to me he intended going to Macclesfield in a day or two, and bade me write to some of our customers there and by the way. But I knew that it was a needless journey, and taken only to get me out of harm's way. I dared not say I would go after Saturday, for fear of starting enquiries as to my reasons for delay. So I merely said I should be ready when he was, and that seemed to cheer him a bit. I dreaded meeting my cousin George, but I knew it had to be done. My mind was fully made up to tell him I could not continue by his side in this organized attack on machines I had been busy thinking the matter out. The objection to machinery was that, it displaced human labour. Well, I argued, a scythe is a machine, so is a pair of scissors. If I proposed to do away with the scythe at hay time and clip our three acre field with my mother's scissors, everyone would think me a lunatic. The more I thought of that illustration the more I liked it, and I wondered how George would get over it. But, somehow, as I walked down, to the Brigg to have my talk with George, I got less and less comfort from my logic the nearer I drew to Huddersfield. George was at home and fortunately we were not interrupted. He was in a towering rage, and I could not have found a worse time for my errand. "Yo're just the man I wanted to see, Ben," he said. "I feel I must talk to somebody and let th' steam off a bit. But somebody'st smart for this. An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth th' old Book says, an' a blow for a blow too, say I. Aye, by God, a blow for a blow, a hundred blows for one, insult for insult, outrage for outrage, and ruin for oppression. The proud insolence of the man! Am I a dog that I should bear this thing? Answer me that, Ben Bamforth." "Whatever's up, George?" I asked. "Do sit thee down and talk quiet and sensible. An' quit walking an' tearing up an' down like a tiger in a cage. One would think th'd lost thi wits, an' I particler wanted a quiet talk."