"I'll take off twenty now," shrieked Richard, stamping about like an angry child. "I'll have them punished for this outrage. I'm a magistrate, and I'll punish them. I'll have the dragoons over from Churley. It's disgraceful, it's a regular riot, and not one of those three wretched policemen to be seen." "I see one on 'em comin'," growled Harry, grinning; "and he went back again." "Had you not better try a little persuasion with your workpeople?" said the vicar. "I am quite new here, but it seems to me better than force." "That's what I tells him, sir," exclaimed Banks, "only he will be so arbitrary." "Persuasion!" shrieked Richard, who, now that he was safe, was infuriated. "I'll persuade them. I'll starve some of them into submission. What's that? What's that? Is the gate barred?" He ran towards the building, for at that moment there was a roar outside as if of menace, but immediately after some one shouted-- "Three cheers for Missus Glaire!" They were given heartily, and then the gate bell was rung lustily. "It's the Missus," said Banks, going towards the gates. "Don't open those gates. Stop!" shrieked Richard. "But it's the Missus come," said Banks, and he peeped through a crack. "Open the gates, open the gates," cried a dozen voices. "I don't think you need fear now," said the vicar; "the disturbance is over for the present." "Fear! I'm not afraid," snarled Richard; "but I won't have those scoundrels in here." "I'll see as no one else comes in," said Harry, getting up like a small edition of Goliath; and he stood on one side of the wicket gate, while Banks opened it and admitted Mrs Glaire, with Eve Pelly, who looked ghastly pale. Several men tried to follow, but the gate was forced to by the united efforts of Harry and the foreman, when there arose a savage yell; but this was drowned by some one proposing once more "Three cheers for the Missus!" and they were given with the greatest gusto, while the next minute twenty heads appeared above the wall and gates, to which some of the rioters had climbed. "Oh, Richard, my son, what have you been doing?" cried Mrs Glaire, taking his hand, while Eve Pelly went up and clung to his arm, gazing tremblingly in his bleeding face and at his disordered apparel. "There, get away," cried Richard, impatiently, shaking himself free. "What have I been doing? What have those scoundrels been doing, you mean?" He applied his handkerchief to his bleeding mouth, looking at the white cambric again and again, as he saw that it was stained, and turning very pale and sick, so that he seated himself on a rough mould. "Dick, dear Dick, are you much hurt?" whispered Eve, going to him again in spite of his repulse, and laying her pretty little hand on his shoulder. "Hurt? Yes, horribly," he cried, in a pettish way. "You see I am. Don't touch me. Go for the doctor somebody." He looked round with a ghastly face, and it was evident that he was going to faint.