Probation

Sebastian and Hugo drove away from the factory, accompanied by Mr. Sutcliffe, the manager and head man of the business. Arrived at the Oakenrod, Mallory and his manager retired to the library, and there plunged straight into business.

Mr. Sutcliffe was a small, mild-looking man, with eyes that were keen despite his nervous, almost timid expression, a bald head, spectacles, a gentle smile, and a large bundle of what he called ‘documents.’

Over these documents he and Sebastian remained absorbed until luncheon was announced. They tarried not long over that meal. Hugo von Birkenau appeared to be a very familiar friend, for Sebastian made no excuse for leaving him, and with a slight apology to his mother he and Mr. Sutcliffe returned to the library.

An hour, two, three hours passed, chiefly occupied in expositions from Mr. Sutcliffe on the nature of the business, its principles, and the method of carrying it on. Sebastian’s part consisted chiefly in listening, naturally; but every now and then he interposed with a question—questions so much to the point, and showing such discernment and discrimination, that Mr. Sutcliffe, who had at first begun his task with some constraint and great dryness of manner and tone, brightened visibly every minute; his tone grew warmer, his manner more animated, his eyes flashed now and then. Thus the interview went on, until Mr. Sutcliffe, laying down a bundle of papers, whose import he had just explained, took up another bundle, and was beginning—

‘These refer to the——’

But Sebastian interrupted him.

‘Excuse me, Mr. Sutcliffe. Suppose we lay aside business for to-day. I want to ask you some other questions. With such a manager as you, I have no fear of things going wrong.’

Mr. Sutcliffe smiled.

‘Judging from what I have heard and seen of you, Mr. Mallory, you will soon be in a position to manage your own business. You must not feel offended when I say that I have been most agreeably disappointed—surprised is perhaps rather the word.’

Sebastian smiled a little.

‘I am a fearfully indolent fellow, I believe,’ said he. ‘I take a lot of rousing; but once set me to plod at a thing, and I continue until I understand it—at least, I think so.’

‘That is a very modest way of describing your ready comprehension of details which must be as strange to you as those we have just been discussing. But that’s neither here nor there; you wanted some other information?’

‘I suppose you are pretty well acquainted with the different parties, social and political, in the town, and with the characters, at any rate, of the leading people?’

‘I may say that I certainly am.’

‘Well, to begin with, I wish you would tell me candidly what character is borne by my own concern and the management of it?’

Mr. Sutcliffe looked up quickly, an almost startled expression upon his face.

‘That is rather a delicate matter,’ he began.

‘Yes, I suppose it is. But I am sure you will be frank with me. I drew my own conclusions from what I saw and heard this morning, and I want to find out if your account agrees with them. Never mind how disagreeable it may be.’

‘Your works, then, bear a very high reputation in many respects. Your hands are as decent and as steady a lot as any in the town, take them all in all. Things are generally peaceable. It is looked upon, and with justice, as an increasing, thoroughly prosperous concern. Our goods, both yarns and cloth, have got a name. I like the men who are under me, and I think they like me—Wilson, and Heywood, and the others. I think I have succeeded in keeping things right; but——’

‘Well?’

‘There are some misunderstandings about yourself—some prejudices. They don’t like absentee owners here, and that’s a fact. But I’m sure that impression will soon be effaced, now that you are here yourself. If you show them that you don’t mean play——’

Sebastian shrugged his shoulders.

‘Mon Dieu! There does not seem to be much question of play. I never saw anything so oppressively in earnest as every one here seems to be. It is stamped upon almost every face you meet. Certainly I am not in play.’

‘Then they will soon find that out, and respect you accordingly.’

‘But that is not all you were going to say?’

‘It may seem a small kind of complaint to make; but it’s better to let you know the truth at once. There certainly is a feeling against Mrs. Mallory.’

Sebastian looked up in surprise.

‘Against my mother? What has she to do with it?’

‘A feeling that she is not sufficiently liberal in her ideas, and that she would, if she could get the authority, interfere unduly in matters which, with the utmost respect to her, she does not understand, never having had occasion to study them. I am bound to say that, though I have never had anything like a dispute with Mrs. Mallory, yet that is my own impression too, and that is one reason why I rejoice at your return. You are now the final authority.’

The murder was out, and Mr. Sutcliffe’s shrewd eyes watched the young man’s face attentively. He did not look angry, did not look even annoyed, but rather thoughtful for a moment. Then he said,

‘I am glad you mentioned it. Of course that is not a topic for discussion. As you said, my presence will make all the difference. Is that all about my own works?’

‘Yes. I don’t think there is anything else.’

‘Who are the leading men here?’

‘So far as money goes, there are a good many big men here. Mr. Spenceley is reported to be the richest, and I believe report is right.’

‘Spenceley! Ah! What about him?’

‘He is a spinner; does an enormous trade. They say he has been speculating rather too much lately. He has a certain influence in some quarters, but it is an influence that will die with him.’

‘How so?’

‘He has only a son and a daughter, and the son is probably the biggest blackguard in the place; he will never have any influence. The daughter, I hear, is rather an eccentric young lady.’

‘Oh!’ was all Sebastian said.

Mr. Sutcliffe went on,

‘The son I believe, is a very black sheep. It was only a week or two ago that he insulted some young woman—in a small place, you see, these things make a good deal of noise—in a most abominable manner; but he was punished for that, for the girl’s sweetheart—at least that is one of the tales, I don’t believe it myself; but one thing is quite certain, a young working-man followed him to his club that very night, and gave him a good hiding in the billiard-room. No one, I don’t think one soul, was sorry for him. The feeling was so dead against him that he did not even prosecute.’

‘I have heard some account of it. But don’t you know who the young man was who did it?’

Mr. Sutcliffe smiled a little as he said,

‘In my own mind, I believe I could lay my finger upon the man; but as I thoroughly respect him for what he did, and should be sorry to get him into trouble, I shall keep quiet about it.’

Sebastian looked inquiringly at him.

‘I believe the man was one of your own work-people—Heywood, a fellow I have known from the time when he first came as a half-timer.’

‘I have seen the man. You think it was he. Why?’

‘Partly because I was passing the club-door at the very time of the row, and saw him come out of it, looking rather dangerous, with a couple of straps in his hand; and, secondly, because when it has been discussed, which you will easily believe has been pretty actively, he has looked embarrassed, and kept perfect silence upon the subject.’

Sebastian nodded.

‘Miss Spenceley is a great friend of Mrs. Mallory,’ went on the manager. ‘But that’s neither here nor there; only they are about the biggest people, in a money point of view, in the place. There are several other families something like them. Then there’s Canon Ponsonby, the radical parson, our vicar, a very fine old gentleman; you will like him. He is respected by all who are themselves worthy of respect, be they Churchmen or dissenters.’

‘Naturally the feeling here is radical?’

‘Tremendous; and North, almost to a man. Lots of these working-men know what’s coming; and it is coming upon them too, like the very devil. They’ll tell you they know the cotton must run out soon, or run up to such a price that we can hardly get it. But if they have to do without it, or with Surats——’

‘What on earth is “Surats”?’

‘Indian cotton; abominable stuff to work. Haven’t you—but of course you haven’t—heard of the weaver who put up the prayer, “O Lord! send us cotton; but not Surats!” But if they have to work Surats, they’ll stick to it that North is right, and South wrong; and they’ll clem rather than have anything to say to Jeff Davis.’

‘How soon do you think distress will begin?’

‘I think we shall have to shut up shop by Christmas. It’s of no use talking much about it beforehand. All I can say is, there’s a time coming which will prove Lancashire once for all, her rich and her poor alike; and show them up to the world in a light as fierce as that of the midday sun. We shall get to see the stuff we’re made of. And there’s half-past five; I must go.’

‘Won’t you stay and dine with us?’

‘I have another engagement, thank you. To-morrow, at the same time, Mr. Mallory, we will resume the discussion, if you feel so inclined.’

‘Certainly. I shall expect you. Good evening.’

He was left, leaning against the mantelpiece, to reflect upon what had passed.

A tap at the door was followed by the entrance of his mother.

‘Have you finished at last, Sebastian? I have had no opportunity to tell you that I am expecting a friend to dine with us to-night.’

‘Oh, are you? Who may he be?’

‘She is Helena Spenceley, a very great favourite of mine. If my son will spend all his time away from home, I am obliged to find some kind of a substitute, you know. She has been almost like a daughter to me.’

‘Any relative of the young man who recently distinguished himself by earning a thrashing?’

Mrs. Mallory looked annoyed.

‘He is her brother,’ said she coldly. ‘He is away from home now. You must not judge Helena by him. Poor girl! She has a sad, unhappy home. I believe I really have been a friend to her. And I like to see young people about me.’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘I hope you have no engagement?’

‘None at all. I shall be delighted to make Miss Spenceley’s acquaintance.’

She retired, after casting a comprehensive glance around at the papers which strewed the table.