lled, and very glad that he had brought Edwin. As for Edwin, Edwin
was humbled that he should have been so blind to what Big James was. He
had always regarded Big James as a dull, decent, somewhat peculiar
fellow in a dirty apron, who was his father's foreman. He had actually
talked once to Big James of the wonderful way in which Maggie and Clara
sang, and Big James had been properly respectful. But the singing of
Maggie and Clara was less than nothing, the crudest amateurism, compared
to these public performances of Big James's. Even the accompanying
concertina was far more cleverly handled than the Clayhanger piano had
ever been handled. Yes, Edwin was humbled. And he had a great wish to
be able to do something brilliantly himself--he knew not what. The
intoxication of the desire for glory was upon him as he sat amid those
shirt-sleeved men, near the brooding Indian god, under a crawling bluish
canopy of smoke, gazing absently at the legend: "As a bird is known by
its note--"

After an interval, during which Mr Enoch Peake was roused more than
once, a man with a Lancashire accent recited a poem entitled "The Patent
Hairbrushing Machine," the rotary hairbrush being at that time an
exceedingly piquant novelty that had only been heard of in the barbers'
shops of the Five Towns, though travellers to Manchester could boast
that they had sat under it. As the principle of the new machine was
easily grasped, and the sensations induced by it easily imagined, the
recitation had a success which was indicated by slappings of thighs and
great blowings-off of mirth. But Mr Enoch Peake preserved his
tranquillity throughout it, and immediately it was over he announced
with haste--

"Gentlemen all, Miss Florence Simcox--or shall us say Mrs Offlow, wife
of the gentleman who has just obliged--the champion female clog-dancer
of the Midlands, will now oblige."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

SIX.

These words put every man whom they surprised into a state of unusual
animation; and they surprised most of the company. It may be doubted
whether a female clog-dancer had ever footed it in Bursley. Several
public-houses possessed local champions--of a street, of a village--but
these were emphatically not women. Enoch Peake had arranged this daring
item in the course of his afternoon's business at Cocknage Gardens, Mr
Offlow being an expert in ratting terriers, and Mrs Offlow happening