Joe Banks stood staring round the room defiantly, while the sentries kept the door ajar.

“Shoot the door, fools,” he said sharply; and then, as it was closed, he turned on Barker, who, rising, said smoothly,

“May I ask what our friend, Mr Joseph Banks, wants here at a private meeting?”

“Let me tackle him, mate,” said Sim.  “Here’s a cheer here, Maister Banks; come an’ sit along-side me.  Yow’ve come to join uz then, at last?”

“Yes,” said Banks, shortly, as he beckoned Tom Podmore to his side.

“I always said he would, lads,” cried Sim.  “I always said it.  He’s seen the error of his ways, and come to join the brotherhood, and clasp the honest horny hand o’ labour.  He’s a paytriot at heart, is Maister Banks, and I knew as he’d come at last.”

“But,” said Barker, “our friend is not yet one of the brotherhood.”

“What?” said Banks sharply.

“Our friend has not taken the oaths,” said Barker.

“Oaths ­Brotherhood” ­cried Banks.  “Don’t I tell you I join you?  What more do you want?”

“You leave Joe Banks to me, lads, and I’ll explain,” said Sim, confidentially.  “You see, Joe Banks, we binds and ties oursens together wi’ oaths like in a holy bond, and sweers brotherly love.  Don’t you see?”

“Yes, you must be sworn in, Mr Banks; it’s the rule.”

“Swear me in, then,” said Banks, contemptuously.

Several of the men then advanced, and Banks and Podmore were seized, while Slee began to place a folded handkerchief across the former’s eyes.

“What do you mean by this mummery?” exclaimed the foreman; and he tried to drag away the handkerchief, but was stopped.

“This is part of the formula for the administration of the oath,” said Barker.  “Kneel down.  Now bring forward the swords.”

Two of the men came forward with the swords, which had been extracted from their hiding-place, and as Joe Banks was half forced into a kneeling position, they were held crossed over his head.

“Silence!” exclaimed Barker.  “Now, you swear.”

“Curse your childish folly!” cried Banks, starting up, tearing the bandage from his eyes, and sending the cross swordsmen flying.  “Ye’re worse than a set o’ bairns in their play-a.”

“Haw ­haw ­haw!” laughed Big Harry.  “I niver see such a siaght in my liafe.”

“I swear to be faithful brother to you,” exclaimed Banks, “and to fight with you against all our enemies.”

“That’ll do; that’ll do,” exclaimed several voices.  “We know Joe Banks always does what he says; he’ll do.”

“But that wean’t do,” said Sim.  “It aint the oath, you know, Joe Banks, and you must tak’ it.”

“I’ll take no other,” cried Banks, shortly.  “Wheer’s Tom Podmore?”

Tom was brought forward, bandaged, while Slee and Barker whispered together; and the majority of the men seemed to look upon the scene as one to be held in great veneration.

“Sweer in Tom Podmore,” cried Slee; and the men with the swords were once more about to perform their theatrical act with the most solemn of faces.

“Stop!” cried Banks, snatching off the bandage.  “That’s enew o’ this stuff.  I’ll answer for Tom Podmore.  Let’s hev deeds, not words.”

“I’ll go on to explain,” said Sim, snatching at the chance for a speech.  “I was speaking when you came in, Joe Banks.”

“I think you come into the world speaking,” cried Joe Banks, roughly.  “Get down off that cheer, and say your say like a man.”

“This sort of interruption is not parliamentary,” cried Sim.  “It isn’t, is it?”

The gentleman from town shook his head.

“Theer,” cried Sim, “the deppitation says as it isn’t.”

“Look here, men,” cried Joe Banks, speaking excitedly, “I come here to-night to join you.  You wanted me wi’ you before, but I wouldn’t come, because I was in the cause o’ raight.  I wouldn’t gi’e up my position as a straightforward man for to faight for a few beggarly shillings a week.”

There were some murmurs of discontent here, but the foreman did not seem to hear them, and went on.

“The side of raight is the side of raight no longer, and I’m wi’ you, for I’ll work no more for one who has done me as great a wrong as he can do.”

“He hev, Joe Banks, he hev, and we’ll let him know it,” cried several.

“No, no,” cried Banks; “no more attacks on him; we’ve had enew o’ that.  Strike him through his pocket; let him feel it where we’ve felt it; but mind this, the lad as raises hand again the house where them two women are, raises it again me.”

Amidst the loud cheering that followed, Sim Slee, who would not be repressed, climbed upon the table in front of his chair, shouting ­

“He’s roused at last, lads.  He’s a-takking the iron foot of the despot from his brow, and come to straike for freedom.”

There was a loud cheer at this, and Sim’s vanity was gratified.

“Now,” cried Banks, “what are you going to do?  You’ve got some plans?”

“Theer,” cried Sim; “what did I tell you?  Didn’t I say as he’d come to uz?  Yes, Joe Banks, our new brother, we’re going to set the eyes of all England starting out of its head, to see us strike for our raights.  We’re a-going to ­Hey?”

“Stop!” whispered Barker.  “See to the doors there.  We’ve a man present as isn’t sworn.  He must take the oath.”

“Didn’t I say,” cried Joe Banks, fiercely, “that I’d be answerable for him?”

“But I’m not going to join their plans, Joe Banks,” said Tom, in a low voice.

“Raight,” said Banks, shortly.  “Go on, Sim Slee.”

“Then look here, mates.  Here’s what we’re a-going to do.  Bring that theer keg.”

Two men dragged a keg from a cupboard, and placed it on the table.

“Them as is smoking is to go to the other end of the room,” said Sim, and there was a sudden movement amongst the men, the deputation not being the last.  “Now then,” said Sim, “who’s got a knife?”

Joe Banks took a big clasp-knife from his pocket, and threw it upon the table, Sim picking it up, and beginning to open it as he went on talking.

“Here’s my plan.  We’re a-going to open the eyes o’ lots of places as thowt they was very big in their way; and ­Hello, where didst thou get this knife fro’, Joe Banks? ­it’s mine.”

“Then it was thou as coot the bands,” cried Joe, seizing him by the throat.  “Thou cunning fox, thou’st trapped after all.  It’s thou as browt all this trouble on uz wi’ thy coward’s trick.  It was thou as clomb into wucks through the window, and coot all the bands, and left thee knife behind to bear witness again thee.  Look at him, lads; he canno’ say it wean’t.”

“And he don’t want to,” cried Sim, shaking himself free.  “I did it all by my sen as a punishment to a bad maister as knows nowt but nastiness; and now we’re a-going to come down o’ him wi’ tenfold violence.  Bands is nowt to what we’re a-going to do.”

There was a cheer at this, and the men who were beginning to be wroth against Sim and his companion, and who would have severely punished him a short time back, lost all thought of the dastardly escapade in the savage attack they meant to make.

“Look here, Joe Banks,” continued Sim, whose words came freely enough now without the aid of the deputation, “we’re a-going to do something as shall let ’em see what your honest British workman can do, when he’s been trampled down, and rises up in his horny-handed majesty to show as he’s a man, and to teach all the masters of England to treat their men as if they were Christians ­like brothers as helps ’em to bloat and fatten on the corn and wine, and oil olive and unney as the horny-handed hand pro ­”

“Curse your long-winded speeches!” cried the foreman, savagely, “are you going to talk for ever?”

“Don’t be excited, my friend,” said Barker, smoothly.

“We’re a-going to startle the whole world,” cried Sim, not heeding the interruption, as he stood now with one foot upon the keg; “startle the whole world with the report, and the savour shall go up to make the British workman free.  Mates, lads, and fellow-workers, we’re going to ­”

“That’s powther, I suppose?” said Banks, pointing to the keg.

“Yes,” cried Sim, “and ­”

“You mean to blow up the wucks?” said Banks, with a sombre look in his countenance.

“Dal it all, Joe Banks,” cried Sim, stamping with rage, “what d’yer want to go spoiling the climax like that how!  You didn’t make the plans.”

“You are going to blow up the place as that cursed smooth-tongued liar will not agree for you to work?”

“Yes,” said Sim, sulkily, “that’s it.”

“Lads,” said Banks, “a week ago and I couldn’t ha’ done this.  If he had shown but the least bit as he was sorry for what had passed, I’d ha’ forgiven him.  But I went to him to-day.  I found him sitting in his garden smoking, and careless of the sufferings of his men.  I went to him wi’out anger, but humbly, and begged of him to open the wucks again for the sake o’ the wives and bairns ‘most pining wi’ hunger, and then ­ then ­”

Joe Banks put his hand to his throat, for he was choking, but struggling bravely he went on.

“Then I begged on him to give me some tiding o’ my poor bairn.  I begged it o’ him humbly, just to tell me she weer alive, and well; and to let me know wheer we might send a line to her; for, lads, I’ve been broken and down like, and ready to do owt to get sight o’ her again for her mother’s sake, for she’s ‘bout worn out wi’ sorrow.  I asked him this.”

Banks stopped with his face working amidst the most profound silence, while Tom Podmore took his hand, which was heartily pressed, and Big Harry, after rubbing his eyes with his knuckles like a great schoolboy, crossed over, to double up his fists and say ­

“Joe Banks, say the word, mun, and I’ll go oop t’house, an’ crack him like a nut.”

“You as has bairns wean’t think me an owd fool for this,” said Banks, huskily.  “Yow can feel for me.”

“Ay, owd lad, we do that,” rose in chorus; and then the foreman went on, with his voice gathering strength as he proceeded.

“I asked this of him for you, lads, and for mysen, and he turned upon me, cursed me for an owd fool, and ca’ed me the cause o’ all his troubles.  He swore he did’n’ know nor keer where my poor bairn might be, and at last I comed awaya trembling all ower me, to wheer Tom Podmore here waited for me i’ street; for,” he continued, holding out his hands before him half-crooked, “if I’d ha’ stayed, I should ha’ throttled him wheer he stood; and for his moother’s sake, his dead father’s sake, and that o’ my poor lost bairn, I should ha’ repented it till I died.”

A low murmur ran through the room, and Sim Slee was about to rise and speak, but several of those present thrust him down, when, with a fierce and lowering countenance, the foreman turned upon him.

“Now,” he said, “speak out, mun, what are your plans?”

“The plan is mine,” said Sim; “and we go to work this how.  We climb in by the little window in the lane, and then go into the low foundry and put two barrels o’ powther theer under the middle wall.”

Joe Banks nodded.

“Then we lay a train away to the leather, and put a slow match which we fires, comes awaya, and horny-handed labour triumps, and the wucks comes down.”

“Good!” said Banks, nodding his head.  “It will destroy them.”

“That ’ll do, wean’t it?” continued Slee, eagerly.

“Yes, that will do,” said Banks, in the midst of silence.  “And the powther?”

“That is one barrel,” said Barker; “the other is at Sim Slee’s.  Hadn’t you better go on, Brother Slee, and make the arrangements?”

“Yes, brother sitterzens,” said Slee, “there’s the powther to place, and the train to lay.  What do you say to Thuzday, this day week?”

“And when’s it to be fired?” said Tom Podmore.

“Same time,” said Sim; “it’s anniversary o’ last turn out, and we strikes for freedom.  Who comes forward like a horny-handed hero to do the deed?”

“Not me,” said Big Harry.  “I aint going to mak’ a Guy Fox o’ mysen.”

“Shame on you!” cried Sim.  “Rise outer the slime in which you wallows, and in which the iron foot of the despot has crushed you.  Rise, base coward, rise.”

“If thee ca’s me a coward, Sim Slee,” growled Harry, ominously, “dal me ef I don’t mak’ all thee bones so sore thee wean’t know thee sen.  I’ll faight any two men i’ the room, but dal all barrels o’ powther.”

“Bah!” said Sim, contemptuously.  “You’d be a martyr to a holy cause.”

“Come away, now,” whispered Tom Podmore, laying his hand on the foreman’s shoulder.

“Nay, let’s hear them out,” was the reply.  “Ay, that’s all faîne enew,” said Big Harry, “but I were in the blast when we cast that bell in the wet mowld.”

“Bah!” cried Sim.

“Well, lad, look here now,” said Big Harry, “you’re a fine chap to talk; s’pose you do all the martyr wuck your own sen.”

“I’m ashamed on you,” cried Sim, as this proposal was met by a burst of cheers.  “Isn’t theer one on you as will rise out of his sloth and slime, and prove hissen a paytriot.  Didn’t I mak’ all the plans?  Didn’t I invent the plot?  Am I to do everything?  Hevn’t I allays been scrarping about for the cause?  Don’t let me blush for you all, and feel as there isn’t one as’ll come forward and lay the train.  I’ll do it,” he continued, looking hard at Banks, who was staring at vacancy, “if no one else comes forward.  I’ll go and wuck for the holy mission, as I did over the cooting o’ the bands, if there’s no other paytriot as rises to the height.”

Here there was a dead silence, and Barker broke it by saying ­

“Had they not better draw lots?”

“Yes,” said Sim, enthusiastically.

“Not if I knows it,” said Big Harry, thrusting his hands further into his pockets.

“Say the plan ower again, mun,” said Banks, in a low voice.  “No mouthin’, but joost the plan.”

“To climb in at the little window.”

“Yes.”

“Lay the powther under the middle wall.”

“Yes.”

“Break open the staves to let it out ­lay a good train ­light a slow match close to the leather (ladder).”

“Yes.”

“Run up and get out as you got in.”

“Yes,” said Joe Banks, softly, “or die.”

“And you understand?”

“Yes.”

“And the wucks ’ll be blown to atoms.”

“And what are we to do for wuck then?” said Big Harry.

“You great maulkin, you get no wuck now,” cried Sim; and the big fellow grunted and looked uncomfortable.

“And you will do all this, Sim Slee?” said Banks quietly.

“Who?  I?” cried Sim, shrinking away.

Joe Banks looked at him contemptuously, and then turned to the men.

“I’ll do it, my lads,” he said.  “No one knows the old plaace as I know it, and if it’s to be blown down, mine’s the hand as shall do it.  Thuzday night?  Good!  Be three or four of you theer with the powther under the window, and I’ll be ready to tak’ it in.”

There was a burst of applause at this, and the meeting broke up, the folded flags being carefully buttoned up in Barker’s breast, while Sim Slee walked stiffly home, with a sword down each leg of his trousers, and the hilts under his scarlet waistcoat, beneath his arms.