“If you’ve naught to do, father,” he said, “we’ll look round for a shop. There’s that barn of Haggas’s standing empty; I daresay we could rent it for very little. I want no tea. What say you if we go down and see Ben?” “Then Nancy doesn’t favour t’ scheme?” inquired his father. “Nancy’s chucked both t’ scheme and me,” he replied gruffly. “She’d scarce listen; and naught’ll do but I must go back to Baldwin and help to work t’ business up to fill all their pockets. It’s of no consequence ’at mine’s empty.” His father regarded him for a minute in silence; but Hannah made light of the quarrel, preaching patience, and the virtue of the cold-shoulder treatment, to which Jagger gave no heed. “I was afraid you’d make a mullock of it, lad,” said his father at length. “There’s edges on all women that you can’t get off with either chisel or smoothing plane, and it’s a mistake to try sandpaper. You told her a straight tale, I reckon?” “I told her all she’d listen to. I hid naught from her,” he replied. “Then pour him out his tea, Hannah,” said Maniwel. “A man can sup when he can’t bite, and a drop o’ tea’ll very likely set t’ wheels going. I’ll go down and see Ben; I’d thought of his place myself. You’ll be best on t’ hearthstun for a bit till your face shortens.” “T’ street called Straight is about as full o’ troubles as Gordel’s full o’ stones,” said Jagger with some bitterness when his father’s back was turned. “T’ Book says ’at man’s born to trouble,” returned his sister, “and I daresay you’d run up against it whichever road you travelled; but there’s no need to wed it, and that’s what you will do if you marry Nancy, as I’ve told you all along. She’ll want to be t’ top dog, Jagger, and all t’ peace you’ll get’ll be when she’s having her own way.” “I thought you reckoned to be her friend,” growled Jagger. “So I am,” she replied, “and I’m yours too. That’s why I’m talking. What Nancy wants is someb’dy ’at’ll master her and tame her temper, and that isn’t you.” Jagger scowled. He had emptied the cup his sister had set before him; but he refused to eat and after a while Hannah threw a shawl over her head and left the house. Then grannie, whose eyes had been fixed on him with dog-like sympathy and intentness, leaned forward and said: “Nancy’ll have more to bide than thee, lad. It’s been written in her face ever since she was a little ’un ’at she’s marked for sorrow. She’s like all t’ Cleggs—t’ black Cleggs, we used to call ’em ’cause of their hair—proud and blind wi’ hot temper till they take t’ wrong turning in their hurry. It was so wi’ her father. He’d been warned ’at t’ mare ’ud throw him; but he knew better, and she set her foot on him when he was under her belly, and it killed him i’ t’ long-run. Then there’s his brother, John——”