How the Third Floor Knew the Potteries | Page 2

him just at sight, and you'd think he was almost
a boy; but look close at him -- see the little fine wrinkles under his eyes,
and the hard lines about his mouth, and then tell me his age, if you can!
Why, Ben boy, he's as old as I am, pretty near; ay, and as strong, too.
You stare; but I tell you that, slight as he looks, he could fling you over
his shoulder as if you were a feather. And as for his hands, little and
white as they are, there are muscles of iron inside them, take my word
for it."
"But, George, how can you know?"
"Because I have a warning against him," replied George, very gravely.
"Because, whenever he is by, I feel as if my eyes saw clearer, and my
ears heard keener, than at other times. Maybe it's presumption, but I
sometimes feel as if I had a call to guard myself and others against him.
Look at the children, Ben, how they shrink away from him; and see
there, now! Ask Captain what he thinks of him! Ben, that dog likes him
no better than I do."
I looked, and saw Captain crouching by his kennel with his ears laid
back, growling audibly, as the Frenchman came slowly down the steps
leading from his own workshop at the upper end of the yard. On the
last step he paused; lighted a cigar; glanced round, as if to see whether
anyone was by; and then walked straight over to within a couple of
yards of the kennel. Captain gave a short angry snarl, and laid his
muzzle close down upon his paws, ready for a spring. The Frenchman

folded his arms deliberately, fixed his eyes on the dog, and stood
calmly smoking. He knew exactly how far he dared go, and kept just
that one foot out of harm's way. All at once he stooped, puffed a
mouthful of smoke in the dog's eyes, burst into a mocking laugh, turned
lightly on his heel, and walked away; leaving Captain straining at his
chain, and barking after him like a mad creature.
Days went by, and I, at work in my own department, saw no more of
the Count. Sunday came -- the third, I think, after I had talked with
George in the yard. Going with George to chapel, as usual, in the
morning, I noticed that there was something strange and anxious in his
face, and that he scarcely opened his lips to me on the way. Still I said
nothing. It was not my place to question him; and I remember thinking
to myself that the cloud would all clear off as soon as he found himself
by Leah's side, holding the same book, and joining in the same hymn. It
did not, however, for no Leah was there. I looked every moment to the
door, expecting to see her sweet face coming in; but George never
lifted his eyes from his book, or seemed to notice that her place was
empty. Thus the whole service went by, and my thoughts wandered
continually from the words of the preacher. As soon as the last blessing
was spoken, and we were fairly across the threshold, I turned to George,
and asked if Leah was ill?
"No," said he, gloomily. "She's not ill."
"Then why wasn't she --?"
"I'll tell you why," he interrupted, impatiently. "Because you've seen
her here for the last time. She's never coming to chapel again."
"Never coming to the chapel again?" I faltered, laying my hand on his
sleeve in the earnestness of my surprise. "Why, George, what is the
matter?"
But he shook my hand off, and stamped with his iron heel till the
pavement rang again.
"Don't ask me," said he, roughly. "Let me alone. You'll know soon

enough."
And with this he turned off down a by-lane leading towards the hills,
and left me without another word.
I had had plenty of hard treatment in my time; but never, until that
moment, an angry look or syllable from George. I did not know how to
bear it. That day my dinner seemed as if it would choke me; and in the
afternoon I went out and wandered restlessly about the fields till the
hour for evening prayers came round. I then returned to the chapel, and
sat down on a tomb outside, waiting for George. I saw the congregation
go in by twos and threes; I heard the first psalm-tune echo solemnly
through the evening stillness; but no George came. Then the service
began, and I knew that, punctual as his habits were, it was of no use to
expect him any longer. Where could he be? What could have happened?
Why should Leah Payne never