"What! Tom Pinder! confound the puppy. Why, there'd be little honour in defeating him. D----n his impudence. But you're joking, Wimpenny, and I tell you I like joking as little as conundrums. But there,--the fellow isn't worth a thought. A nameless workhouse bastard oppose me! Well, you've had your joke, Wimpenny; next time we meet try and think of a better one." And Tinker strode angrily away, without much ceremony. As a matter of fact there had been talk of nominating Tom for a seat on the Board, and the matter had been even broached to Tom himself. But Tom had from the first scouted the idea. He had enough on his hands looking after his own concerns, and he had sense enough to know that if a man won't stick to his business his business won't long stick to him. But when it transpired that, had he consented, he would have had to fight his old master, Tom was indignant. What did people take him for, he wondered. He felt that for him to pit himself against Mr. Tinker would have been a gratuitous insult to the man who had been his master for so many years. He knew that it would be to wound that master in his most sensitive spot, and he had a respect for family pride all the greater, perhaps, because he himself had no family ties or traditions to be proud of. And he shuddered to think what Dorothy might say to his presumption and ingratitude should the mere suggestion of his possible candidature reach her ears. But of Tom's way of meeting the proposal Mr. Tinker was, of course, as yet, quite unaware. He had taken it for granted that Wimpenny was well informed, that he would not have repeated to him a vulgar _canard_. And Mr. Tinker was therefore in high dudgeon when he spoke to Dorothy on the subject. "Does that Tom Pinder live at Garside's yet?" he asked. Dorothy opened her eyes in wonderment. It was the first time she remembered her uncle to have so much as mentioned Tom's name to her. "I believe so, off and on. But I think Lucy Garside, Ben's daughter, told me they see very little of him except on Sunday night. He seems to spend both day and night at his mill. Lucy says he does the work of three men." "You seem to be very intimate with these Garsides. 'Lucy' comes very pat to your lips. Do you see much of them? Do you ever meet this Pinder there?" "Oh, yes, sometimes." "I think you might remember you are my niece. Such people as we are not fit associates for the Garsides; still less for their lodger." "Law! uncle, what have they done now? I've known Lucy ever since I could toddle almost." "That may be. It's your aunt's fault, I suppose. I can't attend to everything. And now your aunt's illness keeps her at Harrogate you do pretty much as you like, I suppose." "When the cat's away the mice will play," thought Dorothy; but only thought it.