Hope Mills Part 21

"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 pa.s.s that way. It is so easy to run in and get a gla.s.s, 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 b.u.t.ter 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 ill.u.s.trated 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 inst.i.tution 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."