a grinder flung down a lot of dull bluish blades, warm
from the forge, upon a condemned grindstone that was lying in the yard;
and they tinkled.

"---- me, if I grind cockney blades!" said he.

This challenge fired a sympathetic handle-maker. "Grinders are right,"
said he. "We must be a ---- mean lot and all, to handle his ---- work."

"He has been warned enough; but he heeds noane."

"Hustle him out o' works."

"Nay, hit him o'er th' head and fling him into shore."

With these menacing words, three or four roughs advanced on him, with
wicked eyes; and the respectable workmen stood, like stone statues,
in cold and terrible neutrality; and Henry, looking round, in great
anxiety, found that Bayne had withdrawn.

He ground his teeth, and stepped back to the wall, to have all the
assailants in the front. He was sternly resolute, though very pale, and,
by a natural impulse, put his hand into his side-pocket, to feel if
he had a weapon. The knife was there, the deadly blade with which his
enemies themselves had armed him; and, to those who could read faces,
there was death in the pale cheek and gleaming eye of this young man, so
sorely tried.

At this moment, a burly gentleman walked into the midst of them, as
smartly as Van Amburgh amongst his tigers, and said steadily, "What
is to do now, lads?" It was Cheetham himself, Bayne knew he was in the
office, and had run for him in mortal terror, and sent him to keep the
peace. "They insult me, sir," said Henry; "though I am always civil to
them; and that grinder refuses to grind my blades, there."

"Is that so? Step out, my lad. Did you refuse to grind those blades?"

"Ay," said the greyhound-man sullenly.

"Then put on your coat, and leave my premises this minute."

"He is entitled to a week's warning, Mr. Cheetham," said one of the
decent workmen, respectfully, but resolutely; speaking now for the first
time.

"You are mistaken, sir," replied Mr. Cheetham, in exactly the same tone.
(No stranger could have divined the speakers were master and man.) "He
has vitiated his contract by publicly refusing to do his work. He'll get
nothing from me but his wages up to noon this day. But YOU can have a
week's warning, if you want it."

"Nay, sir. I've naught against you, for my part. But they say it will
come to that, if you don't turn Little up."

"Why, what's his fault? Come now; you are a man. Speak up."

"Nay, I've no quarrel with the man. But he isn't straight with