“He sent for our Frank into t’ house and telled ’im to keep ’is mouth shut: ’at he’d fallen ’ard on t’ road when he wor goin’ into t’ shop afore dayleet and twisted ’is ankle beside ’urtin’ his knee-cap.” Swithin sat back in his chair, a look of satisfaction on his face, and several of the others, including some of Inman’s defenders, exchanged significant glances. “There wor a black frost, reyt eniff, first thing,” said Ambrose. “It’s hard weather, and that slippy i’ places I thowt once ower I should ha’ to bide at home—” “It is slippy, Ambrose,” Swithin broke in. He was never happier than when circumstances allowed him to adopt the tone and manner of an examining counsel, and he looked round upon the company with the same glance of command that always brought his dogs to attention when sheep were to be shepherded. “We’re all aware o’ that fact. But I’ve a question or two I want to put to Bill if so be ’at he’s a mind to answer ’em.” He cleared his throat, and fixed the witness with his eye. “If Frank had to keep his mouth shut how comes it ’at he’s opened it? “’Cos Inman’s lowsened him,” replied Bill. “He sees it’s goin’ to keep him laid up for a day or two, so it’s n’ewse tryin’ to ’ide it.” “I thowt as much! He didn’t leet to say, I reckon, what made him so partic’lar to keep it quiet at first?” “He was ’opin’ it wor nowt much,” replied Bill; “but he’s war hurt nor he thowt on, so t’ tale wor like to come out onnyway.” Swithin had bent forward to catch the reply; but he again sat back and allowed his features to express his satisfaction. “You’ve been putting two and two together, Swith’n, that’s easy seen,” said Ambrose admiringly. “Them een o’ yours has scanned t’ moor for stray sheep while you can see beyond ord’nary. It’s a gift ’at you’ve made t’ most on.” “A child ’ud put two and two together i’ this case, Ambrus,” returned the other, “but there’s grown men ’at willn’t see what’s straight i’ front o’ their noses, and willn’t believe when they’re tell’d. You’ll ha’getten a glimmer yoursen, I’m thinking?” Ambrose summoned a wise look and nodded his head in a knowing way, replying craftily— “Owd fowk is far’er sighted nor t’ young’uns, Swith’n. Put it into words for t’ benefit o’ t’ comp’ny.” “I will!” said Swithin; but he drained his mug before undertaking the task. “Suppose a man slips on his doorst’n and hurts his-sen—I put it to you as man to man: is there owt to be ashamed on, and to hold back? Is there owt to make a man say ’at you mun keep your mouth shut ower t’ job? Why t’ king his-sen could happen a’ accident o’ that sort!