"There's not the pressure on all the broad
earth that would make me," said Nicholas
Higgins. "Now yo've got it. Yo've hit the
bull's eye. Hampers—that's where I worked
—makes their men pledge 'emselves they'll
not give a penny to help th' Union, or keep
turn-outs fra clemming. They may pledge
and make pledge," continued he, scornfully,
"They nobbut make liars and hypocrites. And
that's a less sin, to my mind, to making men's
hearts so hard that they'll not do a kindness
to them as needs it, or help on the right and
just cause, though it goes again the strong
hand. But I'll ne'er forswear mysel' for a'
the work the King could give me. I'm a
member o' the Union; and I think it's the
only thing to do the workman any good. And
I've been a turn-out, and known what it were
to clem; so if I get a shilling, sixpence shall
go to them if they ask it from me.
Consequence is I dunnot see where I'm to get a
shilling."

"Is that rule about not contributing to the
Union in force at all the mills? " asked
Margaret.

"I cannot say. It's a new regulation at
ourn; and I reckon they'll find that they
cannot stick to it. But it's in force now.
By-and-by they'll find out tyrants makes
liars."

There was a little pause. Margaret was
hesitating whether she should say what was
in her mind; she was unwilling to irritate
one who was already gloomy and despondent
enough. At last out it came. But in her soft
tones, and with her reluctant manner, showing
that she was unwilling to say anything
unpleasant, it did not seem to annoy Higgins,
only to perplex him.

"Do you remember poor Boucher saying
that the Union was a tyrant? I think he
said it was the worst tyrant of all. And I
remember at the time I agreed with him."

It was a long while before he spoke. He
was resting his head on his two hands, and
looking down into the fire, so she could not
read the expression on his face.

"I'll not deny but what th' Union finds it
necessary to force a man into his own good.
I'll speak truth. A man leads a dree life
who's not i' th' Union. But once i' th' Union
his interests are taken care on better nor he
could do it for himsel, or by himsel, for that
matter. It's the only way working men
can get their rights by all joining together.
More the members, more chance for each
one separate man having justice done him.
Government takes care o' fools and madmen;
and if any man is inclined to do
himsel or his neighbour a hurt, it puts
a bit or a check on him, whether he likes it
or no. That's all we do i' th' Union. We
can't clap folk into prison; but we can make
a man's life so heavy to be borne, that he's
obliged to come in, and be wise and helpful
in spite of himself. Boucher were a fool all
along, and ne'er a worse fool than at th' last."

"He did you harm? " asked Margaret,
guileless.

"Ay, that did he. We had public opinion
on our side till he and his sort began rioting
and breaking laws. It were all o'er wi' the
strike then."

"Then would it not have been far better to
have left him alone, and not forced him to
join the Union? He did you no good; and
you drove him mad."

"Margaret," said her father, in a low
warning tone, for he saw the cloud gathering
on Higgins's face.

"I like her," said Higgins, suddenly. "Hoo
speaks plain out what's in her mind. Hoo
does'nt comprehend th' Union for all that.
It's a great power: it's our only power. I
ha' read a bit o' poetry about a plough going
o'er a daisy, that made tears come into my
eyes, afore I'd other cause for crying. But
the chap ne'er stopped driving the plough,
I'se warrant, for all he were pitiful about
the daisy. He'd too much mother-wit for
that. Th' Union's the plough making ready
the land for harvest-time. Such as Boucher
—'twould be settin' him up too much to liken
him to a daisy; he's liker a weed lounging
over the ground—must just make up their
mind to be put out o' the way. I'm sore
vexed wi' him just now. So, mappen, I dunnot
speak him fair. I could go o'er him wi'
a plough mysel, wi' a' the pleasure in life."

"Why? What has he been doing?
Anything fresh?"

"Ay, to be sure. He's ne'er out o'
mischief, that man. First on all, he must go
raging like a mad fool, and kick up yon riot.
Then he'd to go into hiding, where he'd a
been yet if Thornton had followed him out
as I'd hoped he would ha' done. But Thornton
having got his own purpose did not care
to go on wi' the prosecution for the riot. So
Boucher slunk back again to his house. He
ne'er showed himsel abroad for a day or two.
He had that grace. And then where think
ye that he went? Why, to Hampers'.
Damn him! He went wi' his mealy-mouthed
face, that turns me sick to look at, a-asking
for work, though he knowed well enough the
new rule o' pledging themselves to give
nought to th' Unions; nought to help the
starving turn-out! Why he'd a clemmed to
death, if th' Union had na helped him in his
pinch. There he went ossing to promise
aught, and pledge himsel to aught—to tell a'
he know'd on our proceedings, the good-for-
nothing Judas. But I'll say this for Hamper,
and thank him for it at my dying day, he
drove Boucher away and would na listen to
him—n'er a word—though folk standing by
says the traitor cried like a babby."

"Oh! how shocking! how pitiful!"
exclaimed Margaret. "Higgins, I don't know
you to-day. Don't you see how you've made
Boucher what he is by driving him into the
Union against his will—without his heart
going with it. You have made him what he is!"