Do you think I want to end my days in the Union when
you kick me off like a worn-out dog? Yes, yes, I'll go; but look out.
Long years of work have not crushed all the spirit out of your slave.
Look out! Look out! The worm has turned, and the days are coming when
you will feel its sting."

He snatched himself fiercely round, and made for the stony slope--
half-rugged steps--which led upwards towards the dam, and the Vicar
hurried after him; but hearing his steps, the man turned and waved him
back, before striding along till he stopped suddenly in the middle of
the great stone dam, raised his clenched hands towards the sunlit
heavens, and then shook them at the group below.

The next minute he made a rush towards the path leading upward towards
his cottage, passing Mr Manners, who was hurrying down, and disappeared
amongst the trees.

"Why, hollo!" shouted the artist. "What's the matter with my landlord?
I was going to strip for a swim. Has he turned mad? I thought he was
going to jump in."

"I'm afraid that he ought to see a doctor," said the Vicar, gravely.
"He is evidently suffering from a terrible fit of excitement," and as
they joined Mr Willows and the murmuring group of work-people below, he
continued; "You see a great deal of him, Mr Manners. Have you noticed
anything strange in his ways?"

"Strange?" said the artist, bluffly. "Well, yes, he's always strange--a
silent, morose sort of fellow. But I don't dislike him; he's a very
straightforward, good man, who rather looks down on me. We hardly ever
speak, but I have noticed that his wife has seemed a little more
troubled than usual lately. I left her crying only just now, and asked
what was the matter; but all I could get was that her husband was not
well. What's been going on here? I heard him shouting as soon as I
came outside."

"Ah! That sounds bad," continued the artist, as soon as the Vicar had
related the incident that had passed. "Poor fellow! He doesn't drink,
I know: sober as a judge. Temper--that's what it is."

"I don't like to hear those threats," said the Vicar.

"Pooh! Wind! Fluff! People say all sorts of things when they are in a
passion, and threaten high jinks. I do sometimes, don't I, boys? Take
no notice, Mr Willows. We are not going to have the peace of our happy
valley spoiled because somebody gets in a fantigue. Well, boys, how
does the fire-engine go?"

"Haven't tried it yet," said Will.

"H'm! Can't we