"Out with the can," said Festus Clasby.

"Let the woman earn her shilling," said Mac-an-Ward. His voice came from
behind Festus Clasby.

"Our mother must get her shilling," cried the three youngsters.

Festus Clasby turned about to Mac-an-Ward, and as he did so he noticed
that two men had come and set their backs against a wall hard by; they
leaned limply, casually, against it, but they were, he noticed, of the
same tribe as the Mac-an-Wards.

"It was always lucky, the Can with the Diamond Notch," said the woman.
"This offer of the man in the big shop is a sign of it. I will not allow
you to break my brother's luck and he lying in his fever."

"By heaven!" cried Festus Clasby. "I will have you all arrested. I will
have the law of you now."

He wheeled about the horse and cart, setting his face for the police
barrack, which could be seen shining in the distance in the plumage of
a magpie. The two men who stood by came over, and from the other side
another man and three old women. With Mac-an-Ward, Mrs. Mac-an-Ward, and
the three young Mac-an-Wards, they grouped themselves around Festus
Clasby, and he was vaguely conscious that they were grouped with some
military art. A low murmur of a dispute arose among them, rising
steadily. He could only hear snatches of their words: 'Give it back to
him,' 'He won't get it,' 'How can he be travelling without the Can with
the Diamond Notch?' 'Is it the Can with the Diamond Notch?' 'No,' 'Maybe