"If Josey had asked her to spare a gooseberry bush, she would probably have consented," said Walden to himself; "He is so old and frail,--she could hardly have refused his appeal without seeming to be almost inhuman."
Here his reflections were abruptly terminated by a clamour of angry voices, and hastening his steps up the knoll, he there confronted a group of rough rustic lads gathered in a defensive half-circle round Spruce who, white and breathless, was bleeding profusely from a deep cut across his forehead. Opposite him stood Oliver Leach, livid with rage, grasping a heavy dog-whip.
"You damned, deaf liar!" he shouted; "Do you think I'm going to take YOUR word? How dare you disobey my orders! I'll have you kicked off the place, you and your loud-tongued wife and the whole kit of you! What d'ye mean by bringing these louts up from the village to bull- bait me, eh? What d'ye mean by it? I'll have you all locked up in Riversford jail before the day's much older! You whining cur!" And he raised his whip threateningly. "I've given you one, and I'll give you another--"
"Noa, ye woan't!" said a huge, raw-boned lad, standing out from the rest. "You woan't strike 'im no more, if ye wants a hull skin! Me an' my mates 'ull take care o' that! You go whoam, Mister Leach!-- you go whoam!--you've 'eerd plain as the trees is to be left stannin'--them's the orders of the new Missis,--and you ain't no call to be swearin' yerself black in the face, 'cos you can't get yer own way for once. You're none so prutty lookin' that we woan't know 'ow to make ye a bit pruttier if ye stays 'ere enny longer!"
And he grinned suggestively, doubling a portentous fist, and beginning to roll up his shirt sleeves slowly with an ominous air of business.
Leach looked at the group of threatening faces, and pulled from his pocket a notebook and pencil.
"I know you all, and I shall take down your names," he said, with vindictive sharpness, though his lips trembled--"You, Spruce, are under my authority, and you have deliberately disobeyed my orders--"
"And you, Leach, are under Miss Vancourt's authority and you are deliberately refusing to obey your employer's orders!" said Walden, suddenly emerging from the shadow east by one of the great trees, "And you have assaulted and wounded Spruce who brought you those orders. Shame on you, man! Riversford jail is more likely to receive YOU as a tenant than any of these lads!" Here he turned to the young men who on seeing their minister had somewhat sheepishly retreated, lifting their caps and trampling backward on each other's toes; "Go home, boys," he said peremptorily, yet kindly; "There's nothing for you to do here. Go home to your breakfasts and your work. The trees won't be touched--"