CHAPTER XII.
"Where is grandmother?" Jack asked one morning late in May, as he came in from the garden, and found her place at the table vacant.
"She does not feel very well this morning, and I told her there was no need of rising with the lark," answered cousin Jane; but, though her voice was cheerful, there was a new gravity in her face.
"It is something unusual"—
"She is getting to be an old lady, Jack. There, sit down to your breakfast while it is nice and hot. No fear but what I will attend to grandmother."
She had risen; but in the midst of her dressing her hands had lost their cunning, her limbs their strength. Jane came to look at her in alarm.
"It's a warning," she said, with her grand old smile. "But I have no pain, and so you can leave me here for a while. My strength may come back."
Mrs. Darcy was much frightened.
"Remember that ninety-four is a good old age, and she has hardly had a sick day in her life. After breakfast Jack might go over for Dr. Maverick. He is sensible, and will not torment her with experiments."
Jack rather hurried through his meal, and then ran up to grandmother's room. She put out her wrinkled hand, thin to be sure, but still slender and smooth, with no knobby joints. A proud sort of beauty illumined the old face, though the eyes were a little dull.
"Dear boy," and there was a curious quaver in her voice, "I've had to give in at last. The Lord knows best. He has given me many a happy year with you; yet I have never forgotten the folks over yonder. I shall be glad to see them again,—your father, Jack, and the rest. 'Then they came to the land of Beulah, where the sun shineth day and night, and betook themselves to rest'—you know. We used to read it together."
A sharp pang went to Jack's heart. He pressed the limp hand to his lips, and gazed into the face that had changed in some indescribable way. Then Jane came with a tempting breakfast, and fed her with wonderful gentleness, it seemed to him.
He went out, and brought Maverick back with him.
"It is a general breaking-up of nature," said the doctor with a tender gravity. "Nothing can be done, unless she should suffer; but I do not think she will. It is the way lives ought to end oftener. Give her whatever she will take; and keep cheerful, all of you. After all, it is only a little journey."
"Where?" the young eyes asked as they met each other in solemn mood.
Jack scarcely left her. She liked to open her eyes, and find him sitting there, when she would smile faintly, and murmur a few words. Sylvie and Miss Barry were the only visitors admitted to her room. They used to read out of "Pilgrim's Progress," the book she had loved so well, and occasionally they sang some sweet old hymn.
"Jack," she said once, "you will find everything in my old box there in the bureau. It was my mother's, and came across the sea with me. You have been a good lad. You took your father's place with me, and you must never regret that you staid here to make an old woman happy. You have been a good lad—a good—little lad"— And her mind wandered to other years.
Just growing gradually weaker, and falling asleep peacefully. A long, well-spent life, and a death to remember and desire.
They buried her in Yerbury churchyard, and the townspeople turned out to do her honor. Jack thought of another death, and the almost solitary state of the funeral.
How good it was that they had Jane Morgan now! She carried them right along.
Jack opened the brass-bound box, still fragrant with its sandal-wood lining. Some old letters, the trinkets she had saved from her poverty, and a will bequeathing her all, in government bonds, to Jack.
There was nearly seven thousand dollars. With his own little savings he felt quite rich.
"Jack," said his mother, "all these years you have waited patiently, and put by your own dreams. Do not think that I did not notice the struggle. It was very generous and kindly; and I am glad, for grandmother's sake, that you staid. But now if you like we will go somewhere else, and make a new home"—did her voice tremble a little then? "I am still young enough to take root elsewhere, and cousin Jane is so energetic she helps one to new life. There may be prettier and more prosperous places, and you have years before you in which to realize a fortune."
He glanced up at the face bending over him, instinct with the honorable grace of middle life; the hair with a few threads of silver; the soft, fine skin showing some wrinkles about the eyes and two or three light creases across the forehead; the cheeks out of which roundness had vanished, and the lips the scarlet of girlhood, but though both were pale the mouth was still tender and sweet. A womanly woman,—that seemed to him a perfect description of his mother, a woman who had loved three generations, and held by them. Now for his sake she would give up the old ties, and try a new world,—this shy, shrinking, loving woman.
What would she leave? She had never known any other home in her married life, though this had been changed and improved since her wedding-day. Everywhere some trace of his father. The porch with the roses climbing over it, the great maples in the street, planted by him; the odorous old balm of Gilead, that he had hunted up because she had cared for it, and they had one in her old home; the trailing clematis with its shining smilax-like green, and its heliotrope fragrance; the white rose that had been planted on the morning of Jack's birth, and had sent up many generations from the old root; the latticed summer-house with its wealth of grapes; and almost like a vision Jack could fancy he saw the tall figure and deliberate step,—the sweet ghost of memory that could never walk in any other place. Did his mother have such dreams?
Yes, there were better things to life than mere money-getting.
"I believe those were the wild dreams of boyhood,"—smiling a little,—"the 'long, long thoughts of youth.' I used to want something that would occupy my whole soul and every energy, that was stirring, earnest, absorbing, and held a grand outlook. But I think"—very deliberately, as if he were weighing every word—"that my work has come to me, instead of my going out to seek it. At all events, I shall not go away for the present."
"Well," she returned, but she could not keep the great gladness out of her voice.
Having thus made his election, Jack Darcy looked sturdily about to see what was to be done, and the best way to do it. He asked two of the old over-lookers, Hurd and Bradley, to meet him at Maverick's office; and there they discussed co-operation until long past midnight. They looked into the cotton-mill connected with the Rochdale experiment; they read up the workings of those at Oldham and Lancashire, of the industries in France, and banking in Germany.
"Here we are," said Jack, "with so much of our lives spent in learning to manage looms and turn out different kinds of cloth. People must wear clothes until the millennium, and cloth will be made. It seems to me that it must be a good thing to identify the workmen, and get their real interest. We should avoid strikes on the one hand, the continual disputes about wages, and be much less at the mercy of all outside influence. The men will understand thoroughly that industry, economy, thrift, and perseverance is good for each individually; that he is using these qualities not only for the master, but for himself. There will be better work, and more of it."
Hurd seemed to be taking the measure of Darcy through this speech. Now he said,—
"Darcy, any man who knows enough to head such a business as Hope Mills, knows enough to carve out a fortune for himself; and my opinion is that he would be a fool to let the chance slip."
"A man may have the knowledge, but not the requisite capital," was the patient answer. "Then he might think"—
"Well, you've a sight of faith, that's all! Your men will go on with the tramp of soldiers in good times; and when the pinch comes, then look out! If they were educated, reasonable, sensible; but you and I both know the mass are not. It will do better in the old countries, for there children expect to follow in the footsteps of their parents; but here, where every boy looks upon himself as a possible president, it cannot be done. It has been tried, and has failed. It will again."
"Then you will not join?"
"I don't say that, Darcy. I can't very well get away from Yerbury: if I could, the Lord knows I'd go. But there—it is just as bad everywhere else. Don't be too sanguine though: you young chaps build air-castles easily."
Bradley wrung his hand warmly at parting. "I want to look into this thing a little more closely," he said. "I believe you have struck the keynote. Whatever raises the workman raises the whole world. If you get him to be self-supporting, there is one less pauper or tramp for the State to take in charge, and tax all other workingmen for his support."
"I rather like the scheme of the co-operative store," Hurd began presently. "There's a sight of money somehow between the producer and the consumer. Farmers are grumbling all the time. I wrote to my brother-in-law last spring about trading for a small farm, and going into poultry-business perhaps; and he sent back a list of prices he had obtained for his produce. Butter twenty-five cents, and we paid forty this winter. Milk two and a half cents a quart, while ours is from eight to ten."
"Transportation to be counted in," suggested Maverick.
"The thing discouraged me, so I thought I'd hold on a bit, since I did not know the first rule for farming. As Darcy says, we have spent all these years perfecting ourselves in our business, and it hardly looks reasonable that we should succeed at once in something altogether different. If you don't mind, Darcy, I'd like to look over that Rochdale experiment a little at my leisure."
Jack handed him the book, and the small party dispersed. In a week they met again, with two more, one a stubborn old Englishman who had been in the business. They had done very well for a while, then the market flattened. They could not hold their stock, so the big fish swallowed them up. That was always the end where you had no credit and no reserve capital. Truth to tell, Jack began to realize how hard it would be to convert some of the very men he would like to have.
Meanwhile Hamilton Minor came up with some capitalists, and Hope Mills was put up at auction. They looked around the town, examined the building and machinery, which was the best of its kind; but nobody could tell whether we had reached bottom prices or not, and, though the place was to be offered at an immense sacrifice, they were wary. Empty mills and rusting machinery were not profitable investments. Mr. Minor's eloquence went for nothing. These long-headed dons would rather hold on to their money, though they expressed a good deal of sympathy for the Lawrence estate.
"I do believe it will go for the face of the mortgage," said Jack to Maverick that evening. "Twenty thousand dollars, and a year's interest and taxes. Twenty-two thousand would cover the whole thing; and three years ago Mr. Lawrence wouldn't have looked at fifty thousand. Maverick, I can get together ten thousand of my own, and if there was one other person"—
"We will hunt him up," returned Maverick hopefully. "There is the reputation of the cloth already made, which is one great step in your favor. Yes, it must be done."
Yerbury was looking a little brighter and better at midsummer. Scarlet-fever had pretty well disappeared; but malaria had come in its stead, convenient name for want of nourishment, stagnation, and despondency. The haggard-looking wives and mothers went out to a day's washing or scrubbing; but the children, better off, roamed over the fields in search of berries or a stray ownerless fruit-tree, laughing and happy in their rags and bare feet.
Darcy tried two or three pretty well-to-do men, that he fancied had the good of the town at heart; but the project looked wild to them. If David Lawrence couldn't stand up against hard times, no new men could. He, Darcy, had better put his money in government-bonds, and live on the interest. Nothing could be made in such times as these.
"It seems as if one half of the world has decided that the other half should starve," Jack declared in a discouraged tone. "No one is willing to start the ball again. If it wasn't for mother I would risk every dollar of my own. And then to think of the land lying idle about here,—enough to feed half the town! I do not wonder that we are fast coming to beggary and ruin."
Maverick was pretty sober for several days, then he went off to Narragansett Pier; "tired of my everlasting badgering," said Jack to Sylvie, who, poor child, had her hands and heart full of projects that she talked over with Miss Morgan and her aunt, and did not make much more progress than Jack.
So it happened one July evening that Jack sat smoking on the porch in a rather despondent frame of mind. Miss Morgan and his mother had gone to make some neighborly calls.
A quick step came down the street. "If Maverick wasn't in Rhode Island!" thought Jack; then it came nearer, with a little halt, and Jack sprang down the steps in the moonlight.
"Hillo, old fellow!" said the rich, laughing voice. "Have you looked after my patients, and entertained my office-callers, in my absence? That would only be fair play, for I have been about your business; and, by Jove! succeeded too!"
"Maverick!" There was an odd little tremble in Jack's voice.
"Ask me to sit down, and stay me with—well, a pipe, for I have finished my last cigar. I came in the train just fifteen minutes ago, and skulked—that's the very word—under the trees and through by-ways, lest some one, seeing, should lay violent hands on me. Yes, get out your best armchair, old chap, and treat me like a prince."
The two seated themselves again, and stretched out their legs to the porch-railing. The soft light fell around, outlining here and there a bit of vine as if it were held against a silver background. A few early insects were chirping, and somewhere down the street there was a waft of distant music.
"Succeeded!" Jack drew a long breath.
"Yes: with a woman too. Nay, you need not look at me so wonderingly. I have not sold myself for base gold to the Evil One," laughing lightly. "I have never told you much about myself; for, like the needy knife-grinder, 'story, God bless you! there was none to tell;' but there is a chapter now, and you must hear it first. My mother was left an orphan in her infancy, and her aunt adopted her. She was a canny Scotswoman, by name Jean McLeod. She was very good to my mother, who married quite to her liking, although my father was not rich, but we always lived in a certain style, and my father had a fine reputation as a lawyer. My mother's death, the result of an accident, so prostrated him, that he never recovered from the shock. Aunt McLeod came to stay with us through that weary time. Then she took us both to her heart and home: it was a large warm heart and a beautiful home. My father left a little: it was made over to me; and my sister, five years younger than I, was brought up properly, and married properly, and lives in Chicago in elegant style. Then Aunt Jean tried her hand on me, chose a suitable young woman, and insisted that the fates had decided it. The upshot was a quarrel. Not but what the girl was nice enough, and all that, but I did not care to marry; and so I walked off to Europe, and was there three years. Some rather cool letters passed between us at first, but they grew warmer; and when I returned it was winter, and she was in New York. I went straight up to her house. She was very glad to see me; and there in her lovely library, all glow and softness and perfume, by the side of the grate, with a screen in her hand, sat Anastasia Lothrop. She is Aunt Jean's pet protégée, though she has home and lands and people of her own. A handsome woman too, by Jove! However, we have gone our separate ways. I think she (Aunt Jean) was rather annoyed at my settling at Yerbury.
"Well, I went to Narragansett, and found her alone this time; and she has promised to buy Hope Mills. I do believe there's no end to the woman's money. She talked it over as a mere bagatelle. I am to meet her in New York, and you are to go down, Jack; and we are to see the holder of the mortgage, and do no end of business. I think she is rather interested in the scheme, and I do believe she is delighted to do me a favor. Now you can keep your money for a kind of reserve fund. The mere savings of labor will not answer at first, you know."
Maverick drew a long breath then, and puffed lustily at his cigar.
"I don't know how ever to thank you."
"Don't thank me, Darcy. You see, I am interested in this experiment. I want to see if there is enough faith and honesty and industry and trustfulness left in the world to make such a general partnership a success. You know it has been said that since the war our character as a whole has degenerated fearfully. Politically there is no doubt of it. Commercially and industrially are still open questions. If we could succeed in making one hundred people comfortable, instead of one rich, nine comfortable, and the other ninety next door to pauperism, we shall have done something. If we can so educate ninety men that they are able to understand the difficulties and embarrassments of carrying on business and its numerous fluctuations, we shall have raised them higher in the social scale. And it is most sadly true of all the large failures of late, some one has been dishonest, some one or two or three have taken other people's money to speculate with. It should be called stealing as much as when a poor man takes it, even if he spends it for rum. And, Darcy, we will keep our eye single upon one thing: we shall not move the world, or convert it, but haply one little corner of Yerbury; while all the wit and wisdom the world has been saving up for ages will be hurled against us in different shapes, from puffy snowballs to the grim old fellows soaked in water and frozen hard. And sometimes I think, with all the energy you are going to bring to bear upon this, you could carve out a fortune somewhere else."
"I don't know as to that, Maverick," said Darcy in a half-funny, half-sad tone. "From New York to St. Louis, from thence to New Orleans, to Florida, and back here again, I never found an opening. Two or three people did promise to write to me, but they have not. I felt the world could go on quite as well without me and hundreds of others. So, then, the only thing is to create a place; and Heaven knows I shall try hard enough to make a success of this."
"And you will do it too: I'm not afraid. Give us your hand, old chap! I never swore friendship with but just one fellow: that was in my college days, and I have his note for one hundred dollars as a memento. I might have been keener, I dare say; but one of the transcendentally lovely things of youth is its perfect faith. These preternaturally wise and prudent young people come into the world mentally gray-headed. But I do it now with my eyes wide open; and, when you are a rich man, I have another scheme I want to take through, a sort of home or hospital of my own planning: so don't fancy I shall let you off easy."
They held each other's hands in a long, lingering clasp. Beside the warmth and magnetism that was a component part of Dr. Maverick's nature when he chose to use it, which was not nearly always, there was a steadfast kindliness, the vigor of a true and pure manhood, that made a clear atmosphere about him, in which insincerity, weakness, and selfishness seemed to flicker into pale shadows, and shrink away from the intense mental light he turned upon them.
And just here the vision of the boy face came back to Jack, the strangling arms about his neck, the fluttering breath and quivering lips, and the sound of the rather thin, childish voice,—"You are my King Arthur, and I shall love you my whole life long."
The sadness in the smile was for the old ideal.
CHAPTER XIII.
"The telegram!" exclaimed Maverick ten days later, striding down the garden where Jack was at work in the strawberry-bed.
Jack Darcy flushed like a girl, through the other fine coloring of labor. He had hardly dared to believe in and hold to Maverick's promise. Manlike, neither had spoken of it since that night.
"'Thursday, at four, at the Westminster.' That is to-morrow. We must be on time, or she would never have any faith in us; and, though my credit may be nil, yours must be"—
"As I hope to keep it through my life," was the grave reply. "You will take the morning train?"
"Yes. It will give us a trifle of spare time, which won't be bad for a couple of overworked fellows like us. But I must look after a lot of people this afternoon, and if I can I will drop in this evening."
Jack went back to his strawberries. He had been making a mental calculation about an acre, and the profits thereon, moved to it by something Jane Morgan had said. Twenty miles below them, on Swanston Bay, which was quite a summer-resort, the hotel-keepers had paid twenty-five cents per quart for nice large berries. On their little patch they had raised a hundred and twenty quarts. There was another side to the labor-question,—diversity of industry. Jane's idea of a great fruit-garden, or call it a farm, was not bad. You could crowd ten such patches in an acre of ground. If nothing better came to hand, he might hire some of the ground lying waste around Yerbury, and set the idle at work.
Sylvie came through with some flowers in her hand. Jack looked up again, and laughed, and threw himself on the grass under a tree, chatting gayly. He felt so light at heart! She wondered a little, and then, without knowing the cause, rejoiced with him in the depths of her soul.
The two men started the next morning, and at the appointed time were ushered into Miss McLeod's private parlor. Maverick had said, "She's a little queer in some ways; but in the main you will like her, I think." Meanwhile Jack had formed a dozen ideals of her, based mostly on the personal appearance of Miss Barry and his grandmother.
The door of the adjoining room opened, and Miss McLeod entered. An old woman, of course, and a fashionable woman, but with a young-old face and figure. Not the graceful airiness of youth, so often painful in its desire to impress the beholder with what it is not, but an old age to which all the good things of life, rightly used, have contributed, and brought about a delightful result. She was of medium height, and possibly had not been handsome in her palmy days; but she challenged one's respect for a true and honorable womanhood, and an old age neither inane, querulous, nor servile.
A rather plump figure, with deep chest, full shoulders, and erect carriage. The face was wrinkled; but the skin had a peachy softness, the lips were still full and finely curved, and, though the mouth was rather wide, it indicated resolution and decision. The whole contour of the face was slightly aquiline, the forehead high and broad, but the curling hair falling over it in the requirements of fashion softened it; shining silvery white, curling naturally, and very abundant, the coil at the back partly covered with a diamond-shaped bit of elegant black thread lace that matched the barb at her throat. Her rich, soft, steel-colored silk made no rustle as she crossed the floor, but the diamonds in her ears and on her breast flashed a glitter of sunlight about her.
Maverick greeted her with pleasant but not effusive warmth, and introduced his friend. They skirmished on the boundary-line of small talk for a while, Jack feeling that he was being measured and gauged at every possible indication of the real man, but his honesty of purpose kept him steadfast.
Presently Maverick plunged into the business part, much to Darcy's satisfaction.
"I wrote to my lawyer, Mr. Hildreth, about it," Miss McLeod replied. "He has seen the parties holding the mortgage; and, on account of business embarrassments, they are extremely anxious to realize upon it. Mr. Minor is naturally desirous of having it sold at an advantage; but he is on the bond, and has been making continuous efforts with no success. No one can tell how low property will sink, business property especially, that depreciates so rapidly if neglected. The mortgage is considered one-third of what the property was valued at seven years ago; but we have all shrunk a trifle since that," with a shrug, and a curious little bend of the head, as if the decapitation was not altogether a pleasant process. "This is the 4th of August, and on the 19th it is advertised for sale. There may be one chance in a thousand of a better purchaser; though Mr. Hildreth thinks no one but a lunatic, or a woman, would put money in such an adventure," her lips curving in their bitter-sweet smile. Indeed, there was nothing she was so much like as a cluster of bright bitter-sweet berries, on a sharp but sunshiny autumn day, with the leaves and tendrils brown and faded, but the brilliant life and soul still shining from the ripe centre. She impressed you with the same defiant glow of exultation.
"I have money lying idle, it is true," she continued; "but I want to hear your plans before I decide, Mr. Darcy. Philip," nodding to her nephew, "has interested me in this scheme; but I must know what it promises before I take the risk."
Jack was confused a little by the bright, penetrating glance; and he had not quite overcome his boyish trick of blushing. Often as he had gone over the plan with Howell, Fawcett, and other political economists at his tongue's end, all his troupe of fine ideas seemed to desert him. He laughed at his own embarrassment: she smiled and nodded, and that made them friends.
"I don't know that I can put it any better," he began earnestly, "than to say that I want to take up the lever of work, and put the wheels of labor in motion, to bring the starving workmen and the halting capital together again. It is all very well for us to rush every dollar into government-bonds; but if there is no business, what is to augment our revenue, and where then shall we be finally, with our mills and workshops shut up, and our people begging? If I had enough of my own to bridge over the chasm, I would ask no one's help," he went on a little proudly. "The mills at Yerbury stand in sad silence, with ruin before them; our men are idle and dispirited, turning into tramps and vagabonds, because they hate to sit still and starve. And here am I, of no real use to the world, and the eight years back of me that I have spent in perfecting myself of no account either, unless I find something upon which to employ my ability and training. If I purchase the mills, we must hire capital to work them with, and everybody would be shy of us. We can get together the capital if we could be sure of the place for five years, at a moderate rental."
"But would not a joint-stock company answer the purpose better, and carry more weight?" she asked, listening with a sort of intent wariness.
"I want to enlist the workmen, so that we shall be reasonably sure of co-operation in other things beside money, industry, thrift, faithfulness, and a common interest in success. If times are hard, we shall all make sacrifices: if they improve, we shall benefit by the earnestness of our endeavors. Maverick and I have made a little draft, based on the workings of the best French and English societies. If you will look it over"—and he took it out of his memorandum.
She studied it with a keen, rapid glance.
"It is what I should call an industrial partnership," Darcy continued. "We should own the mill; but, as we cannot, that must go in the working expenses. As the men choose, and are able, they can hold shares; but at present this will be obtained—say from a dozen perhaps. Nothing now will bring in twenty or even ten per cent, and we must be satisfied with whatever we can make. We have had our good times, and now we must take the evil; but if there is any better way than sitting down resignedly, and folding both hands, I, for one, want to find it."
She was taking in the combinations of emotion and purpose that flitted over his face. A man who would do something if he could get that hardest of all things, a foothold to stand upon.
"I think you might make more money," she said with pointed brevity.
"Which would not be co-operation," with his frank, genial laugh that went to her heart. "I want to try the experiment. Not that I expect to solve all the difficulties between labor and capital; but I shall try to make them better friends, so that, when you have weathered a hard gale, pinching yourselves to keep on the workmen, they will not strike for higher wages on the first stir of improvement, as they will be certain of their share."
"You are a philanthropist, Mr. Darcy. Can you depend upon the temper of your men? They may do very well just now when they are starving; but, when times improve, are they going to wait one year or five years for the sum they consider part of their wages? And if there should be no surplus, but losses, as has often happened in manufacturing? Your workman will
"There must be a different feeling when men are banded together in a mutual business interest. The very spirit of association appeals to what is best and noblest in human nature. As it has been in Yerbury, for example, the workmen contributed of their ability and strength to support one family in princely luxury, pay one extravagant salary, and several others that were out of all proportion to the wages earned, and an extensive defalcation. No one is at all the gainer now, unless it be the thief," his face scarlet with indignation at the remembrance of Eastman. "The men have been hit the hardest of all. No wonder they feel bitter and discouraged. We make many an Ishmael by sending him out with his jug of water, while there are feasting and revelry within."
"But you cannot make all human nature noble or sensible or grateful. There is the grand co-operation of the forty years in the wilderness, when food was provided, and clothing lasted miraculously; yet under these favorable circumstances, and with the sure promise at the end, there was not a heavenly unity."
Jack laughed heartily.
"We must keep from golden calves and such folly," he said. "We are likely enough to have our waters of Marah. But it seems to me the best way to ennoble labor, give it its true dignity, and show the possibilities for the workmen, is concerted action. As matters stand now, few poor men can ever acquire sufficient capital to start any business; and perhaps this is not best when we consider the cost of machinery, and the ever-appearing new inventions. The small capitalist could not compete with the large one. Yet capital often takes as its right the best strength of the workman, the years of maturity and ability, and throws him off in his old age. I know labor retorts by carelessness, wastefulness, and utter indifference to the employer's welfare. One is a machine to grind labor into money; the other, to grind all he can out of capital. Perhaps my design is Utopian, but it seems as if something ought to be done before we train a whole generation of men to be paupers and thieves. Better that we should spend our money in labor experiments than supporting poorhouses and prisons."
Jack had lost his embarrassment now. There was a glow on his cheek, and a steady fire in his eye, the lines about the mouth sharply drawn, and indicating not only masterly strength, but a kind of pitying patience, that would never degenerate into sentimentality. It was a very manly, trusty face; and his sterling honesty impressed Miss McLeod, long trained to reading faces, while his sturdy good sense promised much.
"I should like Mr. Hildreth to see this paper," turning it in her still supple fingers. "What if some of your men insist upon going out after a year or two, Mr. Darcy?"
"There will be some kind of forfeiture, of course. The true business capital must remain intact the whole five years: the direct proceeds of labor may be subject to some changes, but in any event the business interests must not be jeopardized."
There was a moment's interruption of a servant; then dinner was brought in, and arranged for three. The bright-eyed old lady made a charming hostess. She poured their tea with a quaint dignity, and made them feel quite as if she were dispensing hospitality in her own house.
She was the kind of woman whom young people, past the lunacies of sixteen, invariably like. The feminine portion told her their love troubles, the young wives came to her with tangles and little jealousies; and, if she could not always straighten them out, she had a marvellous way of comforting. Young men drifted toward her by some species of magnetism, though she had none of the fussy motherliness of some old ladies. With faculties still keen and bright, a great fund of good-humor that had the sparkle of champagne rather than any insipid sweetness, she never wearied or palled on any one. She kept herself well informed of the world's progress, she knew of the principal stars in the literary, dramatic, and artistic world, and to be asked to her house was a compliment.
The conversation was more general now; and, though Maverick had told every thing of note about Yerbury, she was not indisposed to listen to it again. They discussed the panic and its causes, and ventured upon guesses as to its duration. They all agreed that there had been too much haste to be rich, too much greed of speculation, too much personal greatness, and not enough national greatness. No generous striving together to build up what the war had pulled down, but every man for himself and for gold. If women had been frivolous and vain, and dazzled by the glare of newly acquired wealth, men had not been quite free from faults. The terrible lowering of morals, the dishonesty and fraud easily condoned, and laughed over as a kind of shrewdness, were sad examples to set before the next generation.
In her way Miss McLeod was quite a politician, having been so much in that circle. Her views of men and measures were keen and discriminating; and her bits of trenchant wisdom quite dazzled Jack, who at the last, proposed laughingly, as his panacea, that every man should undertake the mending of himself, when the world would soon be righted.
Afterward a coupé came, and they drove to the Park. There evening and the bonny new moon overtook them; but the streets and country roads were so inviting, they did not return until quite late.
"Consider yourselves my guests for the night," she said as they drove back to the hotel, and Maverick was too wise to demur.
"I have been thinking this matter over," she said as they were separating. "My part will be purchasing the mills, and I shall take so much in the shape of rent. I want you to consider what per cent you can pay, and not straiten yourselves too much. I frankly confess that I am greatly interested in you, Mr. Darcy; and as this young man," touching Maverick's shoulder, "prefers to 'gang his ain gait,' he leaves me quite free to waste my money as I like. Be fair to yourself. Good-night."
"It's all right with you, Jack," began Maverick after they had been shown to their room. "Aunt Jean is a trump! I almost forgive her Miss Lothrop. But I suppose women would be less than women, if they did not want to dip their fingers into destiny. It is their mental chessboard."
"But you do love her? your aunt, I mean."
"Why, of course. Still, I should never dangle in any woman's train;" with a curl of the lip.
Miss McLeod was going back to Narragansett the next morning. They discussed their last item of agreement; and Jack said, with modest decision, "that such real estate could not possibly pay more than three per cent to any owner in the course of the next few years. He would rather offer her that, and a share contingent on the amount of business done at the end of five years, than assume any greater risk just now."
"Thank you for your honesty and your good sense," she replied. "If you had offered higher, I should have had some doubts of your financial clear-headedness. It will be an equitable bargain. And will you be kind enough to make some arrangements for me in Yerbury? I shall come on the 18th, with a companion and a maid; and Mr. Hildreth will follow the next morning. Get your plans in shape by that time. I am glad to have met you, Mr. Darcy, and I wish you success in your undertaking."
They shook hands cordially, and went their ways. Jack could hardly believe his good fortune, and now he was afraid some other parties might step in and take the mills.
"Much likelihood," laughed Maverick.
Jack took Cameron in hand first, as he had been the real suggester of the plan. He, Darcy, could use his ten thousand; and, if ten more could be subscribed, they would not need to hire outside. As time went on, this capital might be equalized and increased. Hurd offered two thousand and himself; and just then one of the old hands who had succeeded in getting rid of a good bit of property that had weighted him heavily, and picked up a little money here and there, subscribed five thousand. Yardley had none of his own, but persuaded his wife's sister to invest a thousand. The other, Miss Barry offered, if no workman came to hand. Winston was a handy Jack-of-all-trades. He could repair machinery, or do any kind of wood-work: he had sold cloth on commission, bartered and traded, and had a good deal of shrewdness and good sense, and pluck. He and Darcy would do the buying and selling; Cameron would take charge of supplies, deal them out, and see that nothing went to waste; Hurd and Yardley would be overlookers as before. Every man could weave his yard of cloth with the best. They would constitute the managing force.
The days passed rapidly; and to Jack's great satisfaction no purchaser appeared, no curious soul even sauntered about the mills. Miss McLeod came at the appointed time, accompanied by Miss Lothrop, who was as distant to Maverick as if this were their first meeting. The ladies were to stay with Mrs. Darcy, and the best in the house was placed at their disposal with simple courtesy. They were taken to the mills, where they made a tour of inspection; Jack explaining machinery, looms, shuttles, and spindles, with an enthusiasm that amazed even himself. There was a new interest in the thought of having a voice in the direction of that great engine now so silent, and the work it was to do.
"We shall not use half our looms in the beginning," he said; "but I hope, before the five years are ended, we shall be doing our utmost."
They all hoped so for his sake. "If any man can make the plan work, he will," thought Miss McLeod, who liked him better every hour.
Miss Barry and Sylvie came to call on the ladies in the evening.
"I suppose that is Mr. Darcy's sweetheart," Miss Lothrop remarked afterward. "She is a pretty, enthusiastic little thing, and she takes so much interest in his affairs. I can just fancy how they will work together, and the earnest, useful lives they will lead. What butterflies we are!" looking down at her white helpless hands. "Not you, but the young women of the day in general. You are a busy bee, and still keep storing up your honey."
"And sting occasionally," laughed the sharp, bright old lady.
The sale took place the next morning at ten, at the Court House. There was quite a number of spectators, though the ladies, with Maverick and Darcy, were in a private office. Hamilton Minor had come up, resolved that it should not go for less than the mortgage, but desirous of ending his responsibility. There were but two bids. The auctioneer lingered a long while on Mr. Hildreth's bid, commenting on the enormous sacrifice, but he could move no one's interest. It was reluctantly knocked down, the purchase-money paid, and the deed made out to Miss McLeod.
Then the company's agreement was put in lawful, legal shape. The managing board of five men were to have sole charge of buying, selling, and manufacturing. They were to give all their time and ability, to watch the state of the market, and conduct every thing for the benefit of the whole corporation. Darcy was to prepare a balance-sheet semi-annually, showing profit and loss; and this was to be open to the inspection of the firm.
The parties to the second part, the workmen, were to work ten hours a day, six days in the week, under the supervision of Hurd and Yardley. The wages of the men and the salaries of the managers were to be put at the minimum rate, and both parties were to draw two-thirds of this sum weekly. At the end of the year, the profits on labor and capital were to be evenly divided; one half apportioned to the capital, the other half divided pro rata; but only half of this sum to be drawn out yearly, the other turned over to the capital stock, and placed to each man's credit. If any operative should become dissatisfied, and leave, his share of the profits was to be forfeited to a fund for sick or disabled workmen. Any member of the association guilty of misconduct was to be twice reprimanded, and for a third offence expelled. A standing committee of the workmen, with one chairman, was to investigate and settle such matters. Shares of capital as low as fifty dollars would be within reach of the workmen. A clause was inserted, that no ale, beer, or spirituous liquors were to be brought into the mill during working hours. It had been one of the old-time rules, but often transgressed. Each man was to use his best endeavors to promote the interests of the firm.
At the end of five years, the agreement was to cease, and the profits to be divided.
Then the five-years' lease of Hope Mills and all its appurtenances was made out to "Hope Mills Co-operative Association," and duly signed. The rental was to be six hundred and sixty dollars per annum, the company to pay the taxes, and keep the mills in ordinary repair.
Then the managers and a number of the workmen marched over to Hope Mills in a body, opened the doors and barred shutters, and entered with an exultant step. They were to try their hand at good-fellowship in labor, and see if it would solve the vexations of the old system, or prove any stronger bond. Maverick had spread a little feast in what had been Eastman's office; and they sat down together, the ladies, joined by Sylvie Barry, Mrs. Darcy, and Miss Morgan, taking the head of the table. Some speeches were made, and some toasts drank, and everybody wished success to Hope Mills. Had John Hope unconsciously foretold their future when he christened them for his own glory? Darcy thought so. The name had a higher significance now, and was to be the earnest of many souls, the watchword to inspire them.
Miss McLeod bade them a hearty farewell. "There may arise some emergency, Mr. Darcy," said she, "when indorsing a note, or a similar matter, will be of great importance to you. I shall not promise to do much of it; but I am strongly interested in this experiment, and want it to have a fair trial. Let me hear from you occasionally; and, if you are in any great strait, apply to me."
Jack thanked her warmly, and she and Miss Lothrop went their way.
"She is a regular fairy godmother," he said enthusiastically to Maverick. "I wonder that you do not adore her!" and he studied his friend in astonishment.
"Have you never heard of people being so much alike they could not agree?" he asked with a light laugh. "What ever possessed her to bring Miss Lothrop? It was in bad taste, to say the least; and, whatever faults aunt Jean may have, she seldom makes a blunder of that kind."
"Why, Sylvie was—well, a good deal pleased with her. The acquaintance was so short"—
"Miss Barry is the most generous and least exacting woman that I ever saw. She judges people by her own noble soul. Jack Darcy"—Maverick shut his lips with a sudden resolution, and turned his face partly aside, then said in a curiously changed tone, "We are two fools to be talking about women, when there are more important matters on hand."
"But I shall always feel grateful to Miss McLeod. There are several moneyed men here in Yerbury whose capital is lying idle, who would not have done this thing for me if they knew it would keep half Yerbury from starving. Yet, if I had offered them ten per cent, they would hardly have hesitated. It does seem to me sometimes, that these old dons tempt one into lying first, and swindling afterward. If you make them all straight, they do not care how much crooked work you do elsewhere."
"Natural depravity and innate selfishness."
And now began the real work. The mills were cleaned of the year's accumulation of dust and cobwebs and general untidiness. Winston went at the machinery with hearty good-will, and put it in order. Circulars were sent out to the old patrons and to new houses, and workmen, workwomen, and children straggled in to see what was going on. Were Hope Mills to be really opened? and was Mr. Darcy to be master? True, a good many of the best men had gone off to try their luck elsewhere, but there were plenty left for a start. Only, there was a mystery these people could not understand. Something about wages, and something about money; and Jack patiently explained the matter, until, as he told Maverick, he felt like a cheap-John auctioneer, dispensing wares.
"The best thing will be to have a meeting," declared Maverick. "See here, Darcy: I'll hire Brock's Hall myself; and we will have a lecture, or a conference-meeting. Subject, 'Work and Wages.' I'll have some posters out too. Every one will know what we mean, that we are honest men and true; and you will be spared this everlasting palaver. Then we will have some rules, or by-laws, or something, for the workmen. Talk to Mr. Winston about it. He would make a capital speaker, with his glib tongue."
Darcy thought it an excellent plan, and they set about it immediately.
"But you'll have to post me," confessed Winston. "The only co-operation I ever was in was a building-association, and our treasurer ran off with our funds."
Maverick promised to "coach" him. Indeed, it was the doctor who gathered up statistics, and put them in a compact and telling form.
They had a large audience,—men and women. "Robert Winston, Esq.," was the orator of the evening. He was a fluent speaker, and had a good deal of humor. He began about the early Anglo-Saxon guilds, and the banding together of craftsmen when towns grew large and prosperous, and labor was performed in the workshops, instead of at home; of the importance of the woollen-manufacture in the days of Elizabeth, not only in England, but on the Continent, when kings did not disdain to borrow money of these corporations; of their final overthrow, and the causes leading to it; of the growth of trades-unions, and the views of conflicting writers on the subject. The workman's necessities so often compelled him to accept what he felt to be inadequate returns, because he could not wait,—it was work or starvation with him,—so that in dull times he was not only at the mercy of the employer, but every other starving workman. On the other hand, so few workmen ever informed themselves concerning the employer's perplexities and dangers, they had no broad and vital interest in the business until they all became leagued together, as in co-operation. Then they shared one another's burdens and prosperity. It was not the one great fortune, but the many comfortable incomes. It was the fruit of the noblest thought and the truest philanthropy. As a producer it had done its best work in France; and he went briefly over the work of the masons at Paris, and the Association Remquet, which, after carrying on printing business for ten years, divided among its members an average of over ten thousand francs; the cloth-factory at Vienna, with its flour-mill, bakery, grocery, coal-yard, and farm; the different societies in England, that were promising, to say the least. All this had been done by the thrift and economy of individual members, who educated themselves by doing business, and so were enabled to dispense with the profits of middle-men, and the greedy clutch of speculators.
After Winston had finished, Dr. Maverick went briefly over their plans for Hope Mills in a very simple and direct manner.
"Winston was capital!" said Jack afterward. "When we are hard up we can send him off on a lecturing-tour. But wasn't it rather over the heads of our people?"
"It was for others beside the workmen. You know, Darcy, some men are so used to swindling and misrepresentation, that they invariably accuse every plan of another, of the same motive. You will have a good deal of this back talk before your five years are ended; and I want Yerbury to know that this is an old, old scheme. I might have quoted the children of Israel, as aunt Jean did, and shocked the religious portion of the community. But, after all, isn't the greatest truth, the Golden Rule, co-operation in all forms?" and he glanced up triumphantly.
Jack did not gainsay him.
He had hit the truth in regard to Yerbury. Some of those who had managed to hold on to their money through all the stress of hard times raised their eyebrows and shook their heads in amused derision. "A fool and his money," said they, and "Set a beggar on horseback," besides numerous wise saws people love to fling at their neighbors. A mortifying collapse was predicted. There wasn't a woollen-mill in the country paying. The smaller people who had been easily induced to invest their money in building-lots, under the supposition that in a few years there would hardly be standing-room in Yerbury, looked askance at this project, so much more easily does speculation appeal to human nature, than the slower but more honorable results of industry.
CHAPTER XIV.
It was easy enough now to get hands who would consent to the three-quarter wages. With one winter of semi-starvation the poor of Yerbury were glad to take any thing that promised bread. The masters were going to share with the men; but they were made distinctly to understand, that, unless the mills earned something over and above this, there could be no surplus, no dividends. Another thousand of the capital had been made up by some of the hands, who thought this promised as well as railroad-stocks, lots out on country barrens, or even savings banks.
To be sure, some burly fellows, whose wives could hardly keep soul and body together over their washing-tubs, swore great oaths that Jack Darcy was a fool to think he could find men to play into his hands that way! Bob Winston was a blower, and never kept at any one thing; and some of the rest were old screws, and in six months time everybody would see!
However, Hope Mills rang out its great bell cheerfully on Monday morning, the middle of September. A small procession wended their way in at the side gate. The engine, with Robert Winston at its helm, as they had not suited themselves with an engineer, puffed and groaned; but, if it was not a merry music, it was good to hear, for all that. The faces were pinched and thin with a year's care and want and the horrible fear of the future, but they tried to smile cheerfully. More than one poor woman had tears in her eyes, and spoke in that hysterical, half-laughing, half-crying tone, that told how deeply her feelings were moved.
By night they were quite settled in the old places, or adapted to new ones. Perhaps the year's experience had done these people some good: they had learned to manage closer. Cameron and Darcy had discussed thrifty French ways of management, and now meant to profit by them if possible. The American spirit of wastefulness should not run riot as it had in times past. Dyes and oils and chemicals were to be sharply looked after, and Cameron was the man to do it.
Before the first week was out, an engineer came to hand. There had been several applications, but some men raised their noses and laughed loudly at the rate of wages. A young chap just out of his time when the panic came on, and who had tried every thing, even to rail-roading, took the place with hearty thanks; a quick, bright fellow too, who had a love for his business, and said in ten minutes time, "She's a pretty engine, Mr. Winston!" with the enthusiasm of a true artist.
"That chap'll blow up Hope Mills in less than a month," said Jem Stixon, who had been refused. "You mark my words! I wouldn't have wife or child of mine working there."
Darcy watched the temper of the employees, and reported every few days to Maverick. The little social "we" and "ours" was working wonders, he thought.
"And we do nothing!" said Sylvie one evening, in a discontented tone, as she sat crocheting by Mrs. Darcy's pretty round table in the old library, that had become a kind of general business-room. "I thought you were going to set us women at work about something. Miss Morgan and I have been waiting patiently."
"There was the cooking-school"—
"But we have nothing to cook. And how are we to get any thing? unless we set up as those poor weavers in Toad Lane, on our pocket-money. I believe I beg from those who have a little, nearly half my time, to give to those who have nothing. And, would you believe it, some of the women begin to think they must be provided for. Mrs. Cairns asked me to-day when the relief-store was going to open. She didn't see why there shouldn't always be something here like the parish relief in England. And when Mrs. Ray offered to take Josie this winter, and keep her in shoes for what she could do, and teach her a little, Mrs. Cairns said, 'if she was worth any thing, she was worth more than that. She might have her for a dollar a week.'"
"Such people ought to go hungry," declared Jane Morgan sharply.
"I've been thinking," said Jack, who now raised his eyes slowly, "there is one thing you might help do; and, indirectly, it would be very serviceable to me. Sylvie, you know Kit Connelly's corner, as they always call it?"
"Well, so it is: Mrs. Connelly earned the money that bought it, and I am glad she didn't let Dennis go on in business until he spent every cent of it. And oh, Jack! all we women of Yerbury ought to be doubly proud that she wouldn't let Den keep a beer-shop there, nor hire it to any one else."
"I hope you are. I think Kit was pretty plucky to take the black eyes and the grumbling. It was a good job for her when Den went over to the Bowman House for hostler. So, of course, it has been shut up a year and a half. You know, two blocks down below, Keppler's door stands open for everybody, and so many of the mill-hands pass that way. It is so easy to run in and get a glass, and the men who bring their lunches go down for a mug of ale. It is a terrible temptation, and I wonder if they are not more easily tempted on an empty stomach? Well, I've been considering for some days if we could not start a coffee-house there,—set Kit up in business. I'm not going to fling a temperance-pledge right in every man's face,—for that makes them spiteful. I do not even want to exhort. But if we put it there,—right in their way,—and there was a nice fire in the evening, and maybe a book or two"—
"Splendid, Jack! There's no such thing in Yerbury. Let's get about it right away!" and Sylvie sprang up, as if she would start at once.
They all laughed.
"There must be a little planning first. Mrs. Connelly is a bright, good-hearted creature, and can make good coffee; and Rose and Kathleen would make nice little maids. She stopped me to-night to inquire if there was any chance of their being taken in the mill. There must be some diversity of employment, or presently we shall all be doing the one thing again,"—and Jack smiled humorously. "Dennis gets low wages, Bernard is in the mill, and there are two younger boys. She takes in gentlemen's laundering, as you know. She was wishing she could rent out the store, but no one wants it. Now, if it could be altered into an attractive coffee-room, kept neat and bright, and—you will laugh at me, no doubt—but given a kind of style,—the cups clean and shining, the spoons decent, and some nice bread and butter for noon lunches. All this at a moderate price. The men pay five cents for their pint of ale, and it is often shared by two: they must not give more than three cents for their cup of coffee."
"I suppose you mean that we are to plan it all out for her," said Sylvie, and she looked across at Miss Morgan.
"It will not do to buy a pound of sugar and a pound of coffee at a time," said Jane concisely.
"Then I will be the capitalist," promised Sylvie.
"Exactly. Kit had better do this on some money that she must give an account of, and it will make her more careful. She owns a cow, so there is the milk. I should like this started quietly, not with a great blare of opposition to the dram-shops."
"Well, what must we do first?" asked Sylvie.
"I wish you and Jane would go down and call on her, and suggest the business. See how she takes it, and look around at the capabilities of the place. I will see to the fitting-up."
They went, as desired. Mrs. Connelly—a round, rosy, buxom Irishwoman, with a mellow voice, laughing eye, and artist-red hair—was very much taken with their plan. "To turn an honest penny in these hard times, and not be wronging any one, would just suit the likes of her. And there was the store standing empty,—but it might stand till the crack o' doom afore she'd have a drop of rum sold in it. There never was a better man than Den when he was sober, and sure she'd had sorrow enough along wid drinking. And there was Barney growin' up, and the two smaller ones, and she'd never, never put a bit of temptation in their way."
The store had been used for a meat-shop and green-grocery. Kit had sold the fixtures when she had been in sore need of money, so now it was a great bare room, with one large window and two small ones.
"Sure I can scrub an' whitewash it myself, an' put clean curtains to the windows. And you're very good to think of such a thing, Miss Barry,—may the saints bless you! An' if Mr. Darcy will see to getting what is wanted, I'll do my very best to please you all."
Sylvie blushed a little at taking the credit, but it was Jack's wish. Jack had a small portico built over the door-way, to keep out the cold in winter, and a neat sign put up, with but two words,—"Coffee-House." Sylvie and Miss Morgan ordered some cheap, small tables, some plain wooden chairs, and found two comfortable, old-fashioned, wooden settles. Then she collected old magazines and illustrated papers, and a rack was put up at one side for them. All the tables were covered with light marbled rubber-cloth, so that they would be kept fresh and sweet. The sugar and coffee were forthcoming. Kit could roast coffee to a turn. One Thursday evening the place was lighted up, and a few guests asked in; and the next day the fame of Kit Connelly's coffee-house began. Half the folks in Yerbury knew her and Dennis.
Rose Connelly, who was just seventeen, a nice fresh-looking girl, was to keep the books, and take the money as she was quite a scholar. Several of the mill-hands went over immediately for their lunches. Such splendid wheat, rye, and Graham bread, spread already, and brought on a clean plate! A nice bite for three cents, and a solid meal for six. Sylvie was to go down now and then, of a morning, to keep matters straight.
"There is one entering-wedge in the cause of temperance," she remarked, in her piquant way. "Only, Jack, it does not seem quite right for us women to take the credit of it. I confess, among all my plans, there has been nothing like this."
"I would rather not be openly connected with it," and Jack made a queer little grimace. "By and by I may have to do some real fighting on my own account, and I don't want too many vulnerable points. Human nature is rather queer and cranky, as you have, no doubt, observed by this time."
"But I do not see why any one should want to fight against your good work, Jack," said Sylvie, with an indignant flush. "I am sure it is no light undertaking to provide all these people with work; and everybody ought to strengthen your hands, instead of putting obstacles in the way."
"I must be prepared for all things."
Maverick was very enthusiastic over the coffee-house. It was a new institution in Yerbury. There had been in good times several so-called cheap lunch-rooms, but the fare was invariably poor.
"Keppler will be your first enemy, and your worst one," said the doctor with a shrewd smile.
"Very well. He must fight Miss Barry and Miss Morgan. I did send a man to do some work, but Miss Barry paid the bills. I keep my hands out of it altogether."
"Good for you, Jack. And how does business progress?"
"I am dubious," and Jack shook his head in a mock-serious way. "There is too much rose-color. Every thing works to a charm. Whether people really have learned something by the hard times, remains to be seen; but it looks so now. And we couldn't have a better working firm. Owen Cameron is the same kind of a man that Miss Morgan is for a woman, not stingy here and wasteful there, but a thorough-going economist. Every week he makes a little saving somewhere. It is what we needed to learn, badly enough. He manages to make the men understand that every penny saved is for the benefit of all, that a yard of cloth or a pound of wool spoiled is to the loss of all. And that is the only way to settle this business, this everlasting wrangle between labor and capital."
Amos Hurd and Peter Yardley used to talk over the other scheme of a co-operative store. It would not do to have too many irons in the fire in such times as these, when no one had any great deal of money. But it did seem as if poor people were paying at the dearest rate for every thing, partly because they asked for trust, and the only man willing to trust them to any extent kept a very full line of second or third rate articles, but the prices did not always correspond.
"Now, there's coal," said Yardley one evening. "At the trade-sale it went up ten cents a ton on the average. Our dealers here, who had their yards full, put up their prices from twenty to thirty cents. I know, on the other hand, if coal takes a sudden tumble, they may lose; but, after watching this thing for years, I find the prices go up five times with full yards, where they fall once. Now, I was thinking, when coal was bought for the mill, some extra car-loads might be ordered for the men."
"Yes," and Hurd opened his eyes widely. "Let us talk to Darcy about it."
Jack listened to their proposal with a sudden interest.
"It will be some trouble to you," he answered. "It is not as thoroughly screened, and there is the delivering. The men cannot carry it home in market-baskets."
"I don't know about the screening," said Yardley rather grimly. "When you clean up your bin, and find several bushels of sand and refuse out of five or six tons, you think half of it, at least, ought to have been good burning-coal. And in wholesale buying you get long tons."
"I can do it as well as not," replied Jack. "In fact,"—laughingly,—"it will rather redound to my credit to order largely, and we have a somewhat extensive coal-shed. But you must look up one or two men who will cart it, and a man to screen; and, when you have counted up your labor, decide upon what price you can offer your coal. Perhaps it would be as well to canvass, and learn how many tons you can dispose of."
The workmen had their own board of managers, of which Yardley had been elected president. They generally met every week, and now Yardley laid this matter before them. There would be an average saving, he thought, of two dollars on every ton, but the coal must be paid for in thirty days. If the men chose to leave one or two dollars every Monday night (for Darcy had wisely made Monday instead of Saturday pay-day) they might give in an order for one or two or even three tons.
Meanwhile Peter Yardley found some thorns even in his path. A good, stout Irish lad was willing to do the screening at a dollar per day; but when he spoke to several carters, who were not busy half the time, to a man they stuck to their regular price, fifty cents per ton. Not one of them would work by the day.
"I can fix that just right," declared one of the men. "My wife's brother has a heavy wagon and two mules. He used to do carting for the iron-mills, and since then he has had mostly catch-jobs. He owns a little place over on the creek-road; and I know he will be glad enough to do it, and maybe take part of his pay in coal."
Seth Williams was hunted up. He would come, and bring his son who would help about loading, for two dollars and a half a day. There were seventy-odd tons subscribed for, but they decided to make their order one hundred tons. Coal was selling at six dollars and a half per ton at Yerbury. After due calculation, they offered theirs to the men at four.
It came duly to hand. After the first day, Williams hired another team on his own account, and his son drove one to its destination, making thereby extra time. Before the seventy tons had been delivered, the remainder was bespoken. They found when it had all been disposed of, and their workmen paid, that they had counted very closely, but there was a small balance on hand. This was deposited in the bank as a nucleus for a co-operative store as soon as there might be sufficient capital to warrant it. This, at least, had been a success. So many of the poorer class of Yerbury were not able to pay for the last ton of coal until they ordered again, being always that much behind.
Yardley was quite jubilant over his scheme.
"You forget that in this you and Hurd have received nothing for your trouble," said Darcy. "Then," smilingly, "you have no bad debts to count out. Still only a philanthropist can do business this way. If you were the proprietor of a coal-yard, you could not afford it."
"I think I have something for my trouble, Mr. Darcy," the man answered proudly. "I have saved ten dollars on my four tons of coal, and that surely pays me."
They were doing moderately well at the mill. Several orders had come in from old buyers; and now Winston started out on a travelling tour, being admirably fitted for that part of the business. At the West he managed to talk two large wool-dealers into a trade; they taking cloth of various grades in exchange, and disposing of it to the best of their ability.
"A regular old-fashioned barter," he wrote to Maverick. "It took a good deal of talking, to be sure, but I'm never the worse for that. They were pleased to get a fair price for their wool, and I lost nothing on my cloth. It clears out the stock, and keeps the men busy."
Indeed, Hope Mills was doing a great thing for Yerbury. There was a brisker air on the streets, a kind of inspiring music in the whir and clatter, that spoke of food and warmth and raiment. Good feeling and sympathy had been touched; and though some of the workmen, who were harassed by back debts, looked rather ruefully at their small weekly pittance, still it was so much better than no money and no employment.
At the Darcys they held what Sylvie laughingly called "symposiums." The churches were organizing their winter work, for there would be need enough. The few who had found employment merely made a ripple on the surface. Some who had stretched out their scanty means the past year now found themselves penniless. Others had tramped about the neighboring towns and cities, getting a few weeks' work here and there, but had no fancy for facing winter in this precarious manner. The hopeful feeling animating so many in the early autumn died out again. It was feared that we had not seen the worst of the panic.
To Sylvie, who the preceding winter had been engrossed in art-studies and delightful social life, the want and misery were appalling. She and Miss Morgan did organize a visiting-society according to an idea of Dr. Maverick's; and though they alleviated many cases of distress, and were the better able to distinguish who were worthy, still they increased upon their hands.