There could be no doubt of little Monsey's timidity. All his jests had
forsaken him.

Sim had seen the gesture that expressed horror at contact even with
his clothes. He was awake to every passing incident with a feverish
alertness.

"Let me go," he said again, with a look of supplicatory appeal.

Old Matthew got up and opened the door.

"Sista, there's some betterment in the weather, now; it teem't awhile
ago."

"What of that?" asked Ralph; but he understood the observation.

"For God's sake let me go," cried Sim in agony, looking first at one
face and then at another.

"No," said Ralph, and sat down beside him. Robbie had gone back to his
bench.

"Ye'll want the bull-grips to keep _him_ quiet," said old Matthew to
Ralph, with a sneer.

"And the ass's barnicles to keep your tongue in your mouth," added
Ralph sternly.

"For fault of wise men fools sit on the bench, or we should hev none
of this," continued Matthew. "I reckon some one that's here is nigh
ax't oot by Auld Nick in the kirk of the nether world."

"Then take care you're not there yourself to give something at the
bridewain."

Old Mathew grumbled something under his breath.

There was a long silence. Ralph had rarely been heard to speak so
bitterly. It was clear that opposition had gone far enough. Sim's
watery eyes were never for an instant still. Full of a sickening
apprehension, they cast furtive glances into every face. The poor
creature seemed determined to gather up into his wretched breast the
scorn that was blasting it. The turf on the hearth gave out a great
heat, but the tailor shivered as with cold. Then Ralph reached the
coat and cap, and, after satisfying himself that they were dry, he
handed them back to Sim, who put them on. Perhaps he had mistaken the
act, for, rising to his feet, Sim looked into Ralph's face
inquiringly, as though to ask if he might go.

"Not yet, Sim," said Ralph. "You shall go when I go. You lodge with me
to-night."

Monsey in the corner looked aghast, and crept closer under the flitch
of bacon that hung above him.

"Men," said Ralph, "hearken here. You call it a foul thing to kill a
man, and so it is."

Monsey turned livid; every one held his breath. Ralph went on,--

"Did you ever reflect that there are other ways of taking a man's life
besides killing him?"

There was no response. Ralph did not seem to expect one, for he
continued,--

"You loathe the man who takes the blood of his fellow-m