Sim began to repent his visit; but seeing no way of escape, and his invention providing him with no inoffensive tale, he began at once, making at the same time a good deal of show of his bound-up hand, and wincing and nursing it as if in pain. "Well, Joe Banks, as a man for whom, though we have differed in politics and matters connected with the wucks, I always felt a great respect--" "Dal thee respect!" said Joe; "come to the point, man." "I say, Joe, that it grieves me to see thee stick so to a mester as is trying to do thee an injury." "An yow want to talk me over to join thy set o' plotting, conspiring shackbags at the Bull, eh?" "I should be straange and proud to feel as I'd browt a man o' Joe Banks's power and common sense into the ways o' wisdom, and propose him as a member o' our society," said Sim. "I dare say thee would, Sim; strange and glad. But that's not what thee come to say. Out wi' it, mun; out wi' it." "That is what I come to say, Joe," said Sim, turning white, as he saw the fierce look in Joe's eyes. "Nay; thee said something 'bout my lass." "I only were going to say as I didn't like to see such a worthy man serving faithful a mester as was trying to do him an injury." "What do you mean?" said Joe, quite calmly. Sim hesitated, but he felt obliged to speak, so calmly firm was the look fixed upon him, though at the same time the foreman's fists were clenched most ominously. "Well, Joe," said Sim, with a burst, "Dicky Glaire's allus after thy bairn, and I saw him the other night, at nearly midnight, trying to drag her into the counting-house." "Thee lies, thee chattering, false--hearted maulkin!" roared Joe, taking the trembling man by the throat and shaking him till his teeth clicked together. "Don't! don't! murder!" cried Sim, holding up his injured hand with the rag before Joe's face. "Don't ill-use a helpless man." "Thou chattering magpie!" roared Joe, throwing him off, so that Sim staggered back against the prickly hedge, and quickly started upright. "I wish thee weer a man that I could thrash till all thee bones was sore. Look here, Sim Slee, if thee says a word again about my lass and the doings of thee betters it'll be the worse for thee." "My poor hand! my poor hand!" moaned Sim, nursing it as if it were seriously injured. "Then thee shouldn't ha' made me wroth," said Joe, calming down, and blaming himself for attacking a cripple. "I didn't know that thou wast going to wink at thee lass being Dicky Glaire's mis--" Sim did not finish the word, for Joe Banks's fist fell upon his mouth with a heavy thud, and he went down in the road, and lay there with his lips bleeding, and a couple of his front teeth loosened. "Thou lying villin," said Joe, hoarsely, "howd thee tongue, if thee wants to stay me from killing thee. I'd ha' let thee off, but thou wouldst hev it. Don't speak to me again, or I shall--" He did not trust himself to finish, but strode off, leaving Slee lying in the dust.