"Your name's Blackpool, an't it?" said
the young man.

Stephen colored to find himself with his
hat in his hand, in his gratitude for being
spoken to, or in the suddenness of it, or both.
He made a feint of adjusting the lining, and
said, "Yes."

"You are the Hand they have sent to
Coventry, I mean?" said Bitzer, the very
light young man in question.

Stephen answered "Yes," again.

"I supposed so, from their all appearing to
keep away from you. Mr. Bounderby wants
to speak to you. You know his house, don't
you?"

Stephen said "Yes," again.

"Then go straight up there, will you?"
said Bitzer."You're expected, and have
only to tell the servant it's you. I belong to
the Bank; so, if you go straight up without
me (I was sent to fetch you), you'll save me
a walk."

Stephen, whose way had been in the
contrary direction, turned about, and betook
himself as in duty bound, to the red brick
castle of the giant Bounderby.

CHAPTER XXI.

"WELL Stephen," said Bounderby, in his
windy manner, "what's this I hear?
What have these pests of the earth been doing
to you? Come in, and speak up."

It was into the drawing-room that he was
thus bidden. A tea-table was set out; and Mr.
Bounderby's young wife, and her brother, and
a great gentleman from London, were present.
To whom Stephen made his obeisance,
closing the door and standing near it, with
his hat in his hand.

"This is the man I was telling you about,
Harthouse," said Mr. Bounderby. The
gentleman he addressed, who was talking to Mrs.
Bounderby on the sofa, got up, saying in an
indolent way, "Oh really?" and dawdled to
the hearthrug where Mr. Bounderby stood.

"Now," said Bounderby, "speak up!"

After the four days he had passed, this
address fell rudely and discordantly on
Stephen's ear. Besides being a rough
handling of his wounded mind, it seemed to
assume that he really was the self-interested
deserter he had been called.

"What were it, sir," said Stephen, "as
yo were pleased to want wi' me?"

"Why, I have told you," returned Bounderby.
"Speak up like a man, since you are a man,
and tell us about yourself and this Combination."

"Wi' yor pardon, sir," said Stephen
Blackpool, "I ha' nowt to sen about it."

Mr. Bounderby, who was always more or
less like a Wind, finding something in his way
here, began to blow at it directly.

"Now, look here, Harthouse," said he,
"here's a specimen of 'em. When this man was
here once before, I warned this man against
the mischievous strangers who are always
about—and who ought to be hanged wherever
they are found—and I told this man that
he was going in the wrong direction. Now,
would you believe it, that although they have
put this mark upon him, he is such a slave
to them still, that he's afraid to open his lips
about them?"

"I sed as I had nowt to sen, sir; not as I
was fearfo' o' openin' my lips."

"You said. Ah! I know what you said;
more than that, I know what you mean, you
see. Not always the same thing, by the
Lord Harry! Quite different things. You
had better tell us at once, that that fellow
Slackbridge is not in the town, stirring up
the people to mutiny; and that he is not a
regular qualified leader of the people: that is,
a most confounded scoundrel. You had
better tell us so at once; you can't deceive
me. You want to tell us so. Why don't
you?"

"I'm as sooary as yo, sir, when the
people's leaders is bad," said Stephen, shaking
his head. "They taks such as offers. Haply
'tis na' the sma'est o' their misfortuns when
they can get no better."

The wind began to be boisterous.

"Now, you'll think this pretty well,
Harthouse," said Mr. Bounderby. "You'll think
this tolerably strong. You'll say, upon my soul
this is a tidy specimen of what my friends
have to deal with; but this is nothing, sir!
You shall hear me ask this man a question.
Pray, Mr. Blackpool"—wind springing up
very fast—"may I take the liberty of asking
you how it happens that you refused to be
in this Combination?"

"How 't happens?"

"Ah! " said Mr. Bounderby, with his
thumbs in the arms of his coat, and jerking
his head and shutting his eyes in confidence
with the opposite wall: "how it happens."

"I'd leefer not coom to't, sir; but sin you
put th' question—an not want'n t' be ill-
manner'n—I'll answer. I ha passed a.
promess."

"Not to me, you know," said Bounderby.
(Gusty weather with deceitful calms. One
now prevailing).

"O no, sir. Not to yo."

"As for me, any consideration for me has
had just nothing at all to do with it," said
Bounderby, still in confidence with the wall.
"If only Josiah Bounderby of Coketown
had been in question, you would have joined
and made no bones about it?"

"Why yes, sir. 'Tis true."

"Though he knows," said Mr. Bounderby,
now blowing a gale, "that these are a set of
rascals and rebels whom transportation is too
good for! Now, Mr. Harthouse, you have been
knocking about in the world some time.
Did you ever meet with anything like that
man out of this blessed country?" And Mr.
Bounderby pointed him out for inspection,
with an angry finger.

"Nay, ma'am," said Stephen Blackpool,