He, too, did not finish his sentence, for at that moment, either by accident or malicious design, the orator was upset; and, so easily changed is the temper of a crowd, a loud laugh arose. But the danger was not yet passed, for those nearest seemed ready to drag their employer from his little body-guard. "You'll help me then, Podmore?" cried the vicar, hastily. "Come, quick, to the gate." The veins were swelling in Tom Podmore's forehead, and he glanced as fiercely as any at his master, but the vicar's advice seemed like a new law to him, and joining himself to his defenders, with the great hammerman, they backed slowly to the gate, through the wicket, by which Richard Glaire darted, and the others followed, the vicar coming last and facing the crowd. The little door in the great gates was clapped to directly, and then there came heavy blows with stones, and a few kicks, followed by a burst of hooting and yelling, after which the noise subsided, and the little party inside began to breathe more freely. "Thanky, Tom Podmore, my lad," said Banks, shaking him by the hand. "I'm glad you turned up as you did." Tom nodded in a sulky way, and glowered at his master, but he pressed the foreman's hand warmly. "I'd fight for you, Joe Banks, till I dropped, if it was only for her sake; but not for him." Meanwhile Harry, the big hammerman, was walking round the vicar and inspecting him, just as a great dog would look at a stranger. "Say, parson, can you wrastle?" he said at last. "Yes, a little," was the reply, with a smile. "I'd maybe like to try a fall wi' ye." "I think we've had enough athletics for one day," was the reply. "Look at my hand." He held out his bleeding knuckles, and the hammerman grinned. "That's my head," he said. "'Tis a hard un, ain't it?" "The hardest I ever hit," said the vicar, smiling. "Is it, parson--is it now?" said Harry, with his massive face lighting up with pride. "Hear that, Tom? Hear that, Joe Banks?" He stood nodding his head and chuckling, as if he had received the greatest satisfaction from this announcement; and then, paying no heed to the great bruise on his forehead, which was plainly puffing up, he sat down on a pile of old metal, lit his pipe, and looked on. "I hope you are not hurt, Mr Glaire?" said the vicar. "This is a strange second meeting to-day." "No," exclaimed Richard, grinding his teeth, "I'm not hurt--not much. Banks, go into the counting-house, and get me some brandy. Curse them, they've dragged me to pieces." "Well, you would be so arbitrary with them, and I told you not," said Banks. "I know'd there'd be a row if you did." "What!" cried Richard, "are you going to side with them?" "No," said Banks, quietly. "I never sides with the men again the master, and never did; but you would have your own way about taking off that ten per cent."