I looked at the man's bent face quite curiously, and, judging from its rather heavy but still not unprepossessing outline, I could not really call it a bad face, or even a sulky one. And yet both managers and hands had given me a bad account of Tim Hibblethwaite. "Surly Tim," they called him, and each had something to say about his sul-len disposition to silence, and his short answers. Not that he was accused of anything like misde-meanor, but he was "glum loike," the factory people said, and "a surly fellow well deserving his name," as the master of his room had told me.
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