Only temporarily, however. A few weeks afterward Ffrench came down to the Works in great excitement. He went to Haworth's room, and finding him there, shut the door and almost dropped into a chair.
"What's up?" demanded Haworth, with some impatience. "What's up, man?"
"You haven't heard the report?" Ffrench answered, tremulously. "It hasn't reached you yet?"
"I've heard nowt to upset me. Out with it! What's up?"
He was plainly startled, and lost a shade of color, but he held himself boldly. Ffrench explained himself with trepidation.
"The hands in Marfort and Molton and Plowton are on the strike, and those in Dillup and Burton are plainly about to follow suit. I've just got a Manchester paper, which says the lookout is bad all over the country. Meetings have been going on in secret for some time."
He stopped and sat staring at his partner. Haworth was deathly pale. He seemed, for a moment, to lack breath, and then suddenly the dark color rushed to his face again.
"By " he began, and stopped with the oath upon his lips.
"Don't swear, for pity's sake," broke forth Ffrench, finding courage for protest in his very desperation. "It's not the time for it. Let's look the thing in the face."
"Look it in the face," Haworth repeated. "Aye, let's."
He said the words with a fierce sneer.
"Aye, look it in the face, man," he said again. "That's th' thing to do."
He bent forward, extending his hand across the table.
