All were agreed.
"Here's Sanny Robertson," said Tam Tate, peering into the breaking
light, "he'll no' likely wait, but we'll see what he says aboot it," and
all waited in silence until Robertson approached. He seemed to guess
what was in the air, and hurriedly tried to pass on, but Andrew stepped
out with the usual question.
"No," he replied uneasily, "I'll ha'e no part in ony mair strife. Folk
just get into bother for nothing. Men'll ha'e to keep mind that gaffers
now-a-days'll no' put up wi' disobedience."
"Ay, but ye maun mind," said Tam Tate hastily, "that men maun be treated
as human bein's, even by a gaffer."
"I can aye get on with the gaffer," replied Robertson, "an' I dinna see
what way ither folk canna do the same."
"That's a' richt," put in old Jamie Lauder, "but a' men are no' just
prepared to do as ye do," and there was a hint of something in his voice
which the others seemed to understand.
"I ha'e no quarrel," sulkily replied Robertson, "an' I dinna see what
way I should get into this one. I can get plenty o' work, an' ither folk
can get it too, if they like to behave themselves."
"Ye're a liar," roared Tam Tate angrily, his usual hasty temper getting
the mastery.
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