As John said this again the noise arose, and again Jacob Baines
seemed to have power to quiet the rest.

John Halifax never stirred. Evidently he was pretty well known. I
caught many a stray sentence, such as "Don't hurt the lad."--"He were
kind to my lad, he were."--"No, he be a real gentleman."--"No, he
comed here as poor as us," and the like. At length one voice, sharp
and shrill, was heard above the rest.

"I zay, young man, didst ever know what it was to be pretty nigh
vamished?"

"Ay, many a time."

The answer, so brief, so unexpected, struck a great hush into the
throng. Then the same voice cried--

"Speak up, man! we won't hurt 'ee! You be one o' we!"

"No, I am not one of you. I'd be ashamed to come in the night and
burn my master's house down."

I expected an outbreak, but none came. They listened, as it were by
compulsion, to the clear, manly voice that had not in it one shade of
fear.

"What do you do it for?" John continued. "All because he would not
sell you, or give you, his wheat. Even so--it was HIS wheat, not
yours. May not a man do what he likes with his own?"