Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles Part 38

"He is young to earn anything, Mr. Lynn. Do you see a chance of my getting him a place?"

"That depends, friend, upon the sort of place he may wish for. I could help him to a place to-morrow. But it is one that may not accord with thy notions."

"What is it?" eagerly asked Jane.

"It is in Thomas Ashley's manufactory. We are in want of another boy, and the master told me to-day I had better inquire for one."

"What would he have to do?" asked Jane. "And what would he earn?"

"He would have to do anything he may be directed to do. Thy son is older than are our boys who come to us ordinarily, and he has been differently brought up; therefore I might put him to somewhat better employment. He might also be paid a trifle more. They sweep and dust, go on outdoor errands, carry messages indoors, black the gloves, get in coal; and they earn, if they are sharp, half-a-crown a week."

Jane's heart sank within her.

"But thy son, I say, might be treated somewhat differently. Not that he must be above doing any of these duties, should he be put to them. I can a.s.sure thee, friend, that some of the first manufacturers of this town have thus begun their career. A thoroughly practical knowledge of the business is only to be acquired by beginning at the first step of the ladder, and working upwards."

"Did Mr. Ashley so begin?" She could scarcely tell why she asked the question. Unless it was that a feeling came over her that if Mr. Ashley had done these things, she would not mind William's doing them.

"No, friend. Thomas Ashley's father was a man of means, and Thomas was bred up a cla.s.sical scholar and a gentleman. He has never taken a practical part in the working of the business: I do that for him. His labours are chiefly confined to the correspondence and the keeping of the books. His father wished him to embrace a profession rather than be a glove manufacturer: but Thomas preferred to succeed his father. If thee would like thy son to enter our manufactory, I will try him."

Jane was dubious. She felt quite sure that William would not like it.

"He has been thinking of a counting-house, or a lawyer's or conveyancer's office," she said aloud. "He would like to employ his time in writing. Would there be difficulty in getting him into one?"

"I do not opine a lawyer would take a boy of his size. They require their writing to be well and correctly done. About that, I cannot tell thee much, for I have nothing to do with lawyers. He can inquire."

Jane rose. She stood by the table, unconsciously stroking Anna's flowing curls--for the cap had never been replaced, and Samuel Lynn found no fault with the omission. "I will speak candidly," said Jane. "I fear that the place you have kindly offered me would not be liked by William.

Other employments, writing for example, would be more palatable.

Nevertheless, were he unable to obtain anything else I should be glad to accept this. Will you give me three or four days for consideration?"

"To oblige thee, I will, friend. When Thomas Ashley gives orders, he is prompt in having them attended to; and he spoke, as I have informed thee, about a fresh boy to-day. Would it not be a help to thee, friend, if thee got thy other two boys into the school attached to the cathedral?"

"But I have no interest," said Jane. "I hear that education there is free; but I do not possess the slightest chance."

"Thee may get a chance, friend. There's nothing like trying. I must tell thee that the school is not thought highly of, in consequence of the instruction being confined exclusively to Latin and Greek. In the old days this was thought enough; but people are now getting more enlightened. Thomas Ashley was educated there; but he had a private tutor at home for the branches not taught at the college; he had also masters for what are called accomplishments. He is one of the most accomplished men of the day. Few are so thoroughly and comprehensively educated as Thomas Ashley. I have heard say thy sons have begun Latin.

It might be a help to them if they could get in."

"I should desire nothing better," Jane breathlessly rejoined, a new hope penetrating her heart. "I have heard of the collegiate school here; but, until very recently I supposed it to be an expensive inst.i.tution."

"No, friend; it is free. The best way to get a boy in is by making interest with the head-master of the school, or with some of the cathedral clergy."

A recollection of Mr. Peach flashed into Jane's mind as a ray of light.

She bade good-night to Samuel Lynn and Anna, and to Patience as she pa.s.sed the kitchen. Patience had been crying.

"I am grieved about Anna," she explained. "I love the child dearly, but Samuel Lynn is blind to her faults; and it argues badly for the future.

Thee cannot imagine half her vanity; I fear me, too, she is deceitful. I wish her father could see it! I wish he would indulge her less and correct her more! Good night to thee."

Before concluding the chapter, it may as well be mentioned that a piece of good fortune about this time befell Janey. She found favour with Dobbs! How it came about perhaps Dobbs could not herself have told.

Certainly no one else could.

Mrs. Reece had got into the habit of asking Jane into her parlour to tea. She was a kind-hearted old lady and liked the child. Dobbs would afterwards be at work, generally some patching and mending to her own clothes; and Dobbs, though she would not acknowledge it to herself or to any one else, could not see to thread her needle. Needle in one hand and thread in the other, she would poke the two together for five minutes, no result supervening. Janey hit upon the plan of threading her a needle in silence, whilst Dobbs used the one; and from that time Jane kept her in threaded needles. Whether this conciliated Dobbs must remain a mystery, but she took a liking for Jane; and the liking grew into love.

Henceforth Janey wanted for nothing. While the others starved, she lived on the fat of the land. Meat and pudding, fowls and pastry, whatever dinner in the parlour might consist of, Janey had her share of it, and a full share too. At first Mrs. Halliburton, from motives of delicacy, would not allow Jane to go in; upon which Dobbs would enter, boiling over with indignation, red with the exertion of cooking, and triumphantly bear her off. Jane spoke seriously to Mrs. Reece about it, but the old lady declared she was as glad to have the child as Dobbs was.

Once, Janey came to a standstill over some apple pudding, which had followed upon veal cutlets and bacon. "I am quite full," said she, more plainly than politely: "I can't eat a bit more. May I give this piece upon my plate to Gar?"

"No, you may not," snapped Dobbs, drowning Mrs. Reece's words, that she might give it and welcome. "How dare you, Janey? You know that boys is the loadstones of my life."

Dobbs probably used the word loadstones to indicate a heavy weight. She seized the plate of pudding and finished it herself, lest it should find its way to the suggested quarter--a self-sacrifice which served to show her earnestness in the cause. Nothing gave Dobbs indigestion like apple pudding, and she knew she should be a martyr for four-and-twenty hours afterwards.

Thus Jane, at least, suffered from henceforth no privations, and for this Mrs. Halliburton was very thankful. The time was to come, however, when she would have reason to be more so.

CHAPTER XXVI.

MR. ASHLEY'S MANUFACTORY.

The happy thought, suggested by Samuel Lynn, Jane carried out. She applied in person to Mr. Peach, and he obtained an immediate entrance for Frank to the college school, with a promise for Gar to enter at quarter-day, the 25th of March. He was perfectly thunderstruck when he found that his old friend and tutor, Mr. Halliburton, was dead; had died in Helstonleigh; and that he--_he!_--had buried him. There was no need to ask him twice, after that, to exert his interest for the fatherless children. The school (I have told you what it was many years ago) was not held in the highest repute, from the reason spoken of by Samuel Lynn; vacancies often occurred, and admission was easy. It was one great weight off Jane's mind.

William was not so fortunate. He was at that period very short for his age, timid in manner, and no office could be persuaded to take him.

Nothing in the least congenial to him presented itself or could be found; and the result was that he resigned himself to Samuel Lynn, who introduced him to Mr. Ashley's extensive manufactory--to be initiated by degrees into all the mysteries necessary to convert a skin into a glove.

And although his interest and curiosity were excited by what he saw, he p.r.o.nounced it a "hateful" business.

When the skins came in from the leather-dressers they were washed in a tub of cold water. The next day warm water, mixed with yolks of eggs, was poured on them, and a couple of men, bare-legged to the knee, got into the tub, and danced upon them, skins, eggs, and water, for two hours. Then they were spread in a field to dry, till they were as hard as lantern horn; then they were "staked," as it was called--a long process, to smooth and soften them. To the stainers next, to be stained black or coloured; next to the parers, to have the loose flesh pared from the inside, and to be smoothed again with pumice-stone--all this being done on the outside premises. Then they came inside, to the hands of one of the foremen, who sorted and marked them for the cutters. The cutters cut the skins into tranks (the shape of the hand in outline) with the separate thumbs and forgits, and sent them in to the slitters.

The slitters slit the four fingers, and _shaped_ the thumbs and forgits: after that, they were ready for the women--three different women, you may remember, being necessary to turn out each glove, so far as the sewing went; for one woman rarely worked at more than her own peculiar branch, or was capable of working at it. This done, and back in the manufactory again, they had to be pulled straight, and "padded," or rubbed, a process by which they were brightened. If black gloves, the seams were washed over with a black dye, or else glazed; then they were hung up to dry. This done, they went into Samuel Lynn's room, a large room next to Mr. Ashley's private room, and here they were sorted into firsts, seconds, or thirds; the sorting being always done by Samuel Lynn, or by James Meeking the head foreman. It was called "making-up."

Next they were banded round with a paper in dozens, labelled, and placed in small boxes, ready for the warehouses in London. A great deal, you see, before one pair of gloves could be turned out.

The first morning that William went at six o'clock with Samuel Lynn, he was ordered to light the fire in Mr. Ashley's room, sweep it out, and dust it, first of all sprinkling the floor with water from a watering-pot. And this was to be part of his work every morning at present; Samuel Lynn giving him strict charge never to disturb anything on Mr. Ashley's desk. If he moved things to dust the desk, he was to lay them down again in the same places and in the same position. The duster consisted of some leather shreds tied up into a knot, the ends loose. He found he should have to wait on Mr. Ashley and Samuel Lynn, bring things they wanted, carry messages to the men, and go out when sent. A pair of shears, which he could not manage, was put into his hand, and he had to cut a damaged skin, useless for gloves, into narrow strips, standing at one of the counters in Samuel Lynn's room. William wondered whether they were to make another duster, but he found they were used in the manufactory in place of string. That done, a round, polished stick was handed to him, tapered at either end, which he had to pa.s.s over and over some small gloves to make them smooth, after the manner of a cook rolling out paste for a pie. He looked with dismay at the two young errand boys of the establishment, who were black with dye. But Samuel Lynn had distinctly told him that he would not be expected to place himself on their level. The rooms were for the most part very light, one or two sides being entirely of gla.s.s.

On the evening of this first day, William, after he got home, sat there in sad heaviness. His mother asked how he liked his employment, and he returned an evasive answer. Presently he rose to go to bed, saying he had a headache. Up he went to the garret, and flung himself down on the mattress, sobbing as if his heart would break. Jane, suspecting something of this, followed him up. She caught him in her arms.

"Oh, my darling, don't give way! Things may grow brighter after a time."

"It is such a dreadful change!--from my books, my Latin and Greek, to go there and sweep out places like those two black boys!" he said hysterically, all his reticence gone.

"My dear boy! my darling boy! I know not how to reconcile you, how to lessen your cares. Your experience of the sorrow of life is beginning early. You are hungry, too."

"I am always hungry," answered William, quite unable to affect concealment in that hour of grief. "I heard one of those black boys say he had boiled pork and greens for dinner. I did so envy him."

Jane checked her tears; they were rising rebelliously. "William, darling your lot seems just now very dark and painful, but it might be worse."

"Worse!" he echoed in surprise. "How could it be worse? Mamma, I am no better than an errand-boy there."

"It would be worse, William, if you were one of those poor black boys.

Unenlightened; no wish for higher things; content to remain as they are for ever."

"But that could never be," he urged. "To be content with such a life is impossible."

"They are content, William."