A sort of gathering and tramping sound was heard in the yard, and then a pause. Moore walked to the window; Helstone followed. Both stood on one side, the tall junior behind the under-sized senior, looking forth carefully, so that they might not be visible from without. Their sole comment on what they saw was a cynical smile flashed into each other’s stern eyes.

A flourishing oratorical cough was now heard, followed by the interjection ‘Whisht!’ designed, as it seemed, to still the hum of several voices. Moore opened his casement an inch or two to admit sound more freely.

‘Joseph Scott,’ began a snuffling voice—Scott was standing sentinel at the counting-house door—‘might we inquire if your master be within, and is to be spoken to?’

‘He’s within, ay,’ said Joe nonchalantly.

‘Would you, then, if you please’ (emphasis on ‘you’), ‘have the goodness to tell him that twelve gentlemen wants to see him.’

‘He’d happen to ax what for,’ suggested Joe. ‘I mught as well tell him that at t’ same time.’

‘For a purpose,’ was the answer.

Joe entered.

‘Please, sir, there’s twelve gentlemen wants to see ye, “for a purpose.”’

‘Good, Joe; I’m their man. Sugden, come when I whistle.’

Moore went out, chuckling dryly. He advanced into the yard, one hand in his pocket, the other in his waistcoat, his cap brim over his eyes, shading in some measure their deep dancing ray of scorn. Twelve men waited in the yard, some in their shirtsleeves, some in blue aprons; two figured conspicuously in the van of the party. One, a little dapper strutting man, with a turned-up nose; the other a broad-shouldered fellow, distinguished no less by his demure face and cat-like, trustless eyes than by a wooden leg and stout crutch. There was a kind of leer about his lips; he seemed laughing in his sleeve at some person or thing; his whole air was anything but that of a true man.

‘Good-morning, Mr. Barraclough,’ said Moore debonairly, for him.

‘Peace be unto you!’ was the answer, Mr. Barraclough entirely closing his naturally half-shut eyes as he delivered it.

‘I’m obliged to you; peace is an excellent thing; there’s nothing I more wish for myself. But that is not all you have to say to me, I suppose? I imagine peace is not your purpose?’

‘As to our purpose,’ began Barraclough, ‘it’s one that may sound strange, and perhaps foolish to ears like yours, for the childer of this world is wiser in their generation than the childer of light.’

‘To the point, if you please, and let me hear what it is.’

‘Ye’se hear, sir; if I cannot get it off, there’s eleven behint can help me. It is a grand purpose, and’ (changing his voice from a half-sneer to a whine) ‘it’s the Looard’s own purpose, and that’s better.’

‘Do you want a subscription to a new Ranter’s chapel, Mr. Barraclough? Unless your errand be something of that sort, I cannot see what you have to do with it.’

‘I hadn’t that duty on my mind, sir, but as Providence has led ye to mention the subject, I’ll make it i’ my way to tak’ ony trifle ye may have to spare; the smallest contribution will be acceptable.’