The master paused, and, looking back, shook his stick threateningly at the motionless figure of the boy; while Thomas Wyley threw a stone at the dog, which sent him back, yelping piteously, to his young master's feet.

Stephen clenched his hands, and bit his lips till the blood started, but he did not move till the last glimpse of his foes had passed away from the hillside.

Martha had hidden herself in the hut while they were present, for she had never spoken to the dreaded master; but she could overhear their loud and angry speeches, and now she came out and joined Stephen.
'Well, I'd have more spirit than to cry,' she said, as Stephen brushed his eyes with his sleeve; 'I'd never have spoken so gingerly to them, the wizen-faced old rascals.

The place is ours, and they can't turn us out.
It's no use to be cowed by them, Stephen.' 'They can turn me off the works,' answered Stephen sadly.
'And whatever shall we do then ?' asked Martha, in alarm.

'Still I reckon you'll say we are to love those old wretches.' 'The Book says so,' replied Stephen.
'Well, I won't set up to try to do it for one,' continued Martha decisively; 'it's not nature; it's being over good by half.