"Nay," said Higgins, "yo' may say what yo' like. The dead stand between yo' and every angry word o' mine. D'ye think I forget who's lying _there_, and how hoo loved yo'? And it's th' masters as has made us sin, if th' Union is a sin. Not this generation maybe, but their fathers. Their fathers ground our fathers to the very dust; ground us to powder! Parson! I reckon I've heerd my mother read out a text, 'The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and th' chidren's teeth are set on edge.' Its so wi' them. In those days of sore oppression th' Unions began; it were a necessity. 
'Nay,' said Higgins, 'the dead stand between yo and every angry word o' mine. And it's th' masters as has made us sin, if th' Union is a sin. Not this generation maybe, but their fathers. Their fathers ground our fathers to the very dust! In those days of sore oppression th' Unions began; it were a necessity. 