It was a scared and pitiable figure that stepped hesitatingly into the cheerful light, and leaned against the dresser. An old workshop cap remained forgotten on his head, and the worn coat was that in which he had been accustomed to do his roughest work. Very old and frail he looked as his dull eyes fixed themselves on Maniwel, and the hands that hung straight down moved tremulously. “He’s turned me out, Maniwel!” It was almost a cry: it was certainly an appeal, though the words were not so eloquent as the eyes. “Turned tha out!” repeated Maniwel incredulously. “What does tha mean Inman?” Hannah was still holding the door ajar; but catching her brother’s eye she closed it. Jagger had risen too, and was standing with his back to the fire, a frown overspreading his face. “Turned me out, Maniwel, to fend for my-sen! I mud go to t’ Union, he said, or to t’ devil!” “Tha did right to come here, lad,” said Maniwel, unconscious of any humour in the remark. “You’ve been having a toathri words I reckon. He’ll come round, tha’ll see, after a bit. Come and sit tha down by t’ fire and tha shalt have a bit o’ supper wi’ us.” Baldwin did not move. His eyes wandering vacantly round the room had found Jagger and were resting there with no change of expression, but with a fixity that made the young man uncomfortable. “Take your cap off, Mr. Briggs, and come nearer t’ fire,” said Hannah—though she anticipated the action by removing it herself. “Why, you’re fair dithering wi’ cold! Come now, t’ kettle’s on t’ boil, and I’ll soon have a cup o’ tea ready.” He suffered her to lead him to the hearth and to place him in her father’s chair; but he still stared at Jagger as if something beneath his consciousness was seeking to determine whether the young man was to be regarded as friend or foe. Grannie looked across and smiled, for she was old enough to forget readily grievances that were not her own. “Nay, Baldwin,” she said; “this is like owd times!” “So it is, mother,” said her son heartily. “He’s a bit upset just now, and his breath’s been ta’en; but when he’s swallowed a drink o’ tea he’ll feel himself, you’ll see!” Baldwin removed his eyes to Maniwel’s face, and a look of returning intelligence appeared there. “We’ve had no words, lad,” he said. “He’s getten t’ business, that’s all, so I’ve to shift—at my age, and it’ll be Christmas to-morrow. Damn him, Maniwel!” “Nay, lad,” said the other sadly, “neither thee nor me’s no ’casion to do that, for he’s damning himself, I’m flayed. We’ll see what he’s like i’ t’ morning: we’re none that short o’ room but what we can put tha up for a night; aye, and for good, if it comes to that. Tha needn’t dream about t’ Union, Baldwin, nor t’ devil, neither. What say you, Jagger?” “He can stay for aught I care,” replied his son, though the concession lacked graciousness.