She would, perhaps, have been ashamed to confess it but, somewhere down
in her heart, she rather hoped, sooner or later, to see his lightning as
well. It would be worth seeing, and she was inclined to think it would
be good for Tom--and the rest of the family.

For Gard looked as if he could give a good account of himself in case of
need. His well-built, tight-knit figure gave one the impression that he
was even stronger than he looked.

If only he had been a Sark man and had nothing to do with those horrid
mines! But all her greatest dislikes met in him, and she could not bring
herself to the point of relaxing one iota in these matters of which he
was unfortunately and unconsciously guilty.

The state of affairs at the mines improved not one whit as the months
dragged on. There was a smouldering core of discontent which might break
into flame at any moment--or into disastrous explosion if the necessary
element were added.

Old Tom did his best, and stood loyally by the new captain and the
interests of the mine and himself. But he was in a minority and could so
far do no more than oppose vehement talk to vehement talk, and that, as
a rule, is much like pouring oil on roaring flames.

Not many of those who were shareholders in the mine were also workers in
it, and the workers met constantly at the house of a neighbour, who had
turned his kitchen to an undomestic but profitable purpose by supplying
drink to the miners at what seemed to the English and Welshmen
ridiculously low prices.