arted off at a dog trot, and the boys ran side by
side towards the mill-yard, where quite a little group of the
silk-weavers and their wives and daughters were hurrying out to
ascertain the cause of the trouble.

"Why, there's father there," said Josh.

"What is the matter now?" cried Will.

The next minute they knew, for, as they readied the spot where
grave-looking John Willows stood looking like a patriarch amongst his
people, beside his friend the gray-headed Vicar, a short, almost
dwarfed, thick-set, large-headed man, with a shiny bald head fringed by
grisly, harsh-looking hair,--and whose dark, wrinkled face was made
almost repellent by the shaggy brows that overhung his fierce, piercing,
black eyes--took a step forward menacingly, and holding out his left
hand, palm upwards, began beating it with his right fist, fiercely
shouting in threatening tones--

"It's been so from the first, John Willows, ever since I came to this
mill as a boy. You've been a tyrant and a curse to all the poor,
struggling people who spent their days under you, not as your servants,
but as your slaves."

"Oh! Oh! Oh! No! No! No!" rose from the hearers, in a murmured
chorus of protest.

"Silence there!" yelled the man, furiously.

"You cowardly fools! You worms who daren't speak for yourselves!
Silence, I say, and let one who dares speak for you."

The Vicar stepped forward and laid his hand on the speaker's shoulder.

"Drinkwater, my good fellow! My good friend! Pray be calm. You don't
know what you are saying!--you don't know what you are saying!"

"Oh, yes, I do, Parson. Don't you interfere," added the man, fiercely.

"But, my dear sir--"

"Oh, yes, I know! I know you, too, better than you know yourself. You
belong to his set. You side with the money. Make friends with the
mammon of unrighteousness, as you'd say, with that with which he grinds
down all these poor, shivering wretches--money, money, money! Piling up
his money-bags, and making us slaves!"

"Drinkwater, I cannot stand and listen to this without raising my voice
in protest."

"Because it gives you a chance to preach," said the man, with a bitter
sneer.

Will's father stepped forward, but the Vicar raised his hand.

"One moment, Mr Willows," he said, quietly. "No, James Drinkwater," he
went on, gravely, "I raise my voice in protest, because everyone who
hears you knows that what you say is utterly false. They are the angry
words of an ove