"My father had a conscience. He gave me chance to become a partner in
the business, and I wouldn't, and he threw me over--what else was there
to do? I could have owned the business to-day, if I'd played the game as
he thought it ought to be played. I didn't, and he left me out--that's
all."

"Makin' your own way, ain't you?" said the English labourer. "That's
hit you where you're tender, Grandois. What you got to say to that?"

The intense black eyes of the habitant sparkled wickedly, his jaws set
with passion, and his sturdy frame seemed to fasten to the ground. His
gnarled hands now shot out fiercely.

"What I got to say! Only this: John Grier played the devil's part. He
turned me and my family out into the streets in winter-time, and the law
upheld him, old beast that he was--sacre diable!"

"Beast-devil! Grandois, those are hard words about a man in his son's
presence, and they're not true. You think you can say such things
because I'm standing for Parliament. Beast, devil, eh? You've got a
free tongue, Grandois; you forgot to say that my father paid the doctor's
bill for your whole family when they were taken down with smallpox; and
he kept them for weeks afterwards. You forgot to recall that when he
turned you out for being six months behind with your rent and making no
effort to pay up! Who was the devil and beast then, Grandois? Who spat
upon his own wife and children then? You haven't a good memory. . . .
Come, I think your account with my father is squared; and I want you to
vote to put my father's son in Parliament, and to put out Barode
Barouche, who's been there too long. Come, come, Grandois, isn't it a