disposed of the beer before Janey opened the door and appeared to marshal him homeward.
But the Broxton Bank was an established fact, and created no small sensation.
"He is a bold fellow, this Haworth," it was said among his rivals, "but he will overstep himself one of these days."
"He's set up a bank, has he?" shouted Granny Dixon, on Murdoch's first visit after she had heard the story.
"Yes," Murdoch answered.
She sat glowering at the fire a few moments almost bent double, and then, having deluded her audience into believing she had subsided, suddenly started and came to life again with increased vigor.
"I've getten my brass i' th' Manchester Savin's," she cried, "an' I'll keep it theer."
It seemed unnecessary to reply, and nobody made any remark upon this statement of facts. But the venerable matron had not concluded.
"I'll keep it theer!" she repeated—"keep it theer! I conna bide him, no more than I can bide her." And then she returned to her fire, fixing her great eyes upon it and mumbling with no small elation.
"Th' thing'll break now, for sure," commented her much-tried hostess, sardonically. "It conna stand up agen that, i' reason. Haworth ud better sell th' Works at th' start afore it's too late."
There had been some vague wonder in Murdoch's mind as to what the result of Haworth's outburst against himself would be.
The first time he found himself confronting him as he went to his work-room he spoke to him:
"You said once," he remarked, "that you had kept
