During the "day or two," Broxton existed in a state of ferment. Gradually an air of disreputable festivity began to manifest itself among all those whose virtue was assailable. There were open "sprees" among these, and their wives, with the inevitable baby in their arms, stood upon their door-steps bewailing their fate, and retailing gossip with no slight zest. "Silks an' satins, bless yo'," they said. "An' paint an' feathers; th' brazent things, I wonder they are na shamt to show their faces! A noice mester Haworth is to ha' men under him!" Having occasion to go out late one evening, Murdoch encountered Janey, clad in the big bonnet and shawl, and hurrying along the street. "Wheer am I goin'?" she echoed sharply in reply to his query. "Why, I'm goin' round to th' publics to look fur feyther--_theer's_ wheer I'm goin'. I hannot seed him sin' dayleet this mornin', an' he's getten th' rent an' th' buryin'-club money wi' him." "I'll go with you," said Murdoch. He went with her, making the round of half the public-houses in the village, finally ending at a jovial establishment bearing upon its whitened window the ambiguous title "WHO'D HA' THOWT IT?" There was a sound of argument accompanied by a fiddle, and an odor of beer supplemented by tobacco. Janey pushed open the door and made her way in, followed by her companion. An uncleanly, and loud-voiced fellow stood unsteadily at a table, flourishing a clay pipe and making a speech. "Th' workin' mon," he said. "Theer's too much talk o' th' workin' mon. Is na it bad enow to _be_ a workin' mon, wi'out havin' th' gentry remindin' yo' on it fro' year eend to year eend? Le's ha' less jaw-work an' more paw-work fro' th' gentry. Le's ha' fewer liberys an' athyne-ums, an' more wage--an' holidays--an'--an' beer. Le's _pro_-gress--tha's wha' I say--an' I'm a workin' mon." "Ee-er! Ee-er!" cried the chorus. "Ee-er!" In the midst of the pause following these acclamations, a voice broke in suddenly with startling loudness. "Ee-er! Ee-er!" it said. It was Mr. Briarley, who had unexpectedly awakened from a beery nap, and, though much surprised to find out where he was, felt called upon to express his approbation. Janey hitched her shawl into a manageable length and approached him. "Tha'rt here?" she said. "I knowed tha would be. Tha'lt worrit th' loife out on us afore tha'rt done. Coom on home wi' me afore tha'st spent ivvery ha'penny we've getten." Mr. Briarley roused himself so far as to smile at her blandly. "It's Zhaney," he said, "it's Zhaney. Don' intrup th' meetin', Zhaney. I'll be home dreckly. Mus' na intrup th' workin' mon. He's th' backbone 'n' sinoo o' th' country. Le's ha' a sup more beer." Murdoch bent over and touched his shoulder. "You had better come home," he said. The man looked round at him blankly, but the next moment an exaggerated expression of enlightenment showed itself on his face.