But it was not until some time afterward that he delivered the message Rachel Ffrench had intrusted to him. On hearing it her father appeared to rally a little. "It seems a rather dangerous thing to do," he said, "but--it is like her. And perhaps, after all, there is something in--in showing no fear." And for a few moments after having thought the incident over he became comparatively sanguine and cheerful. As Floxham had predicted, when the work-bell called the hands together again there were still other places vacant. Mr. Briarley, it may be observed, had been absent all day, and by this time was listening with affectionate interest and spasmodic attacks of inopportune enthusiasm to various inflammatory speeches which were being made at a beer house. Toward evening the work lagged so that the over-lookers could no longer keep up the semblance of ignorance. A kind of gloom settled upon them also, and they went about with depressed faces. "It'll be all up to-morrow," said one, "if there's nothing done." But something was done. Suddenly--just before time for the last bell to ring--Haworth appeared at the door of the principal room. "Lads!" he shouted, "them on you as wants a speech from Jem Haworth gather in th' yard in five minutes from now." There was no more work done. The bell began to ring; implements were thrown down and a shout went up from the crowd. Then there was a rush into the yard, and in less than the five minutes the out-pouring of the place thronged about its chief doorway where Jem Haworth stood on the topmost step, looking down, facing them all, boldly--with the air of a man who felt his victory more than half won. "Let's hear what tha'st getten to say," cried some one well hidden by the crowd. "Out wi' it." "It's not much," Haworth shouted back. "It's this to start with. I'm here to find out where you chaps stand." But there was no answer to this. He knew there would be none and went on. "I've been through th' place this morning," he said, "and through th' town, and I know how th' wind blows as well as any on you. Th' lads at Marfort and Molton and Dillup are on th' strike. There's a bad lookout in many a place besides them. There's a lot of fools laying in beer and making speeches down in Broxton; there were some here this morning as didn't show this afternoon. How many on you's going to follow them?" Then there was a murmur which was not easy to understand. It was a mixture of sounds defiant and conciliatory. Haworth moved forward. He knew them better than they knew him.