"They'll be doing him a mischief 'fore they've done, and then they'll end the old works. Damn him! I hate him," he cried, grinding his teeth; "but I can't stand still and let Sim Slee's lot bruise and batter his face as they would till they'd 'most killed him. He's soft, and smooth, and good-looking, and I'm--well, I'm a rough un," he continued, smiling with contemptuous pity on himself. "It's no wonder she should love him best, poor lass; but she'd better hev been a honest lad's wife--missus to a man as wouldn't hev said an unkind thing to her to save his life. But they say it's womankind-like: they takes most to him as don't keer for 'em." He stood thinking irresolutely, as the noise and cheering continued: and once he turned to go; but the next moment he was himself, and saying softly: "Daisy, my poor little lass, it's for thee--it's for thee;" he strode hastily to the Big House, knocked, and was admitted. "Tell Mr Richard I want to see him," said Tom; and the servant-girl smiled pleasantly at the fine, sturdy young fellow. "I don't think he'll see thee, Mr Podmore," said the girl, "because he's so cross about the foundry people. I'll tell him a gentleman wants to see him." She tripped away, and in a few minutes Richard came down to stand scowling at him. "What do you want?" he said, glaring at his rival. Tom Podmore writhed mentally, and his nerves tingled with the desire to take Richard Glaire by the throat, and shake him till he could not breathe; but he controlled himself, and said sturdily: "I come to tell thee some ill news." "What is it?" said Richard, thrusting his hand into his breast, for his visitor had taken a step forward. Tom Podmore saw the motion and smiled, but he paid no further heed, and went on bluntly: "Thou wast going away by train to-night." "Who says so?" cried Richard, turning pale. "The lads out there--Sim Slee's gang," said Tom; "and I come to warn thee." "Warn me of what?" said Richard. "To warn thee as they mean to lay wait for thee, and do thee a mischief." "Who says so?" "I know it," said Tom: "so if you'll tak' a good bit of advice thou'lt stay at home, and not go out." "It's a trick--a trap," cried Richard. "If it were true, you're not the man to come and tell me." "Why not?" said Tom bluntly. "Because you hate me, and believe I've taken away your wretched wench." "Damn thee!" cried Tom, seizing him by the arm and throat; and as he brought the young fellow to his knees, quite paralysing his effort to get his hand into Iiis breast; "thou may'st say what thee likes again me; but if thee speaks ill of her I can't bear it; so I warn thee. Hate thee I do, and yet I come to tell thee of danger, and--" A faint shriek made Tom start, for, pale as death, Eve Pelly rushed to Richard's help, and clutched at Tom Podmore's sturdy arms, which dropped at her touch as if those of Eve had been talismanic.