Eve made no reply, but the two women remained listening, while it seemed to them that the sound had also been heard by Dick, who apparently crossed the room, and opened his window. "He has gone to see what it means," said Mrs Glaire in a whisper. "I hope the strike people are not out." Her head was running upon certain proceedings that had taken place many years before, during her husband's lifetime, when they had literally been besieged; but her alarm was unnecessary, for had she been in her son's bedroom, she would have seen that worthy open his window and utter a low cough, with the result that Sim Slee threw up a note attached to a stone, which the young man glanced at, and then said, "All right; no answer," and Slee went quickly off. Richard opened the note, glanced through it, and read passages half aloud. "H'm, h'm. So sorry to leave you as I did.--Heart very sore.--Oughtn't to meet like that any more.--Pray let her tell father.--They would soon agree if all known.--Will not come any more to be deceitful." "Won't you, my dear?" said Dick, aloud. "We'll see about that. I think I can turn you round my finger now, Miss Daisy. If not I'm very much mistaken. But we'll see." He finished the note by twisting it up and using it to re-light his cigar, which he sat smoking, and listening as at last he heard his mother and Eve pass his room on their way to bed--the former for the first time in his life, without saying "Good night" to her son. Volume 2, Chapter IV. JOHN MAINE'S HEADACHE. "Hallo, Johnny!" "What, my lively boy." "Look at his velveteens." "And a silk hankercher too. Arn't he tip top?" "Arn't you down glad to see your old mates again, Johnny?" "Course he is; look at the tears in his eyes." "Hey, mun, why don't you say you're glad to see us?" "And why don't you speak?" "Because," said John Maine, speaking slowly, as he stopped leaning on his thick staff in the middle of the road, "I'm not glad to see you, and I don't want to speak." He looked very stern and uncompromising this young man, half bailiff, half farm servant in appearance, as he stood there in the lane, about a mile from Joe Banks's house, and facing the men who had kept up the conversational duet, for they were about as ill-looking a pair of scoundrels as a traveller was likely to meet in a day's march. The elder of the two carried a common whip, and wore a long garment, half jacket, half vest in appearance, inasmuch as it was backed and sleeved with greasy fustian, and faced with greasy scarlet and purple plush, hanging low over his tightly-fitting cord trousers, buttoned at the ankles over heavy boots, while his head was covered with a ragged fur cap.