"No, nor me, either!" quickly agreed the other. "It wad be awfu' to hear
folk cryin' 'Blackleg' after yir faither, wadna' it, Mysie?"
"Ay," was the reply. "I wadna' like it."
"They should a' be hunted oot o' the place," put in Robert, who was
standing near. "They are just sellin' the rest o' the men, an' helpin'
to break up the strike. So ye mind, Mysie, hoo Tam Graham's lass aye
clashed on the rest o' us on the pit-head? She's just like her faither,
ay ready to do onything agin the rest, if it would gi'e her a wee bit
favor."
"Ay, fine I mind o' it, Rob," Mysie replied eagerly. "Do ye mind the day
she was goin' to tell aboot you takin' hame the bit auld stick for
firewood? When I telt her if she did, I'd tell on her stealin' the
tallow frae the engine-house an' the paraffin ile ay when she got the
chance. She didna say she'd tell then."
"Ay, Mysie. Maybe I'd ha'e gotten the sack if she had telt. But she was
aye a clashbag. But here they come!" he shouted animatedly, as the bell
signaled for the cage to rise, and presently the wheels began to
revolve, as the cage ascended.
"May the tow break, an' land the dirty scums in hell," prayed one man.
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