Oh, he does his best to civilize 'em, and all them fisher chaps
thinks a deal of him too. They've got a club in the village what Mr.
Fielding built for 'em, and he goes along there and gives 'em musical
evenings and jollies 'em generally. They'll do anything for him, bless
you. But he tells 'em off pretty straight sometimes. They'll take it from
him, you see, because they respects him."
"I thought the parson always did that sort of thing," said Juliet.
Mrs. Rickett uttered a brief, expressive snort. "He ain't much
use--except for the church. He's old, you see, and he don't understand
'em. And he's scared at them chaps what works the lead mines over at High
Shale. It's all in this parish, you know. And they are a horrid rough
lot, a deal worse than the fisher-folk. But Dick he don't mind 'em. And
he can do anything with 'em too, plays his banjo and sings and makes 'em
laugh. The mines belong to the Farringmore family, you know--Lord
Wilchester owns 'em. But he never comes near, and a' course the men gets
discontented and difficult. And they're a nasty drinking lot too. Why,
the manager--that's Mr. Ashcott--he's at his wit's end sometimes.
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