Put Yourself in His Place [52]
But must you leave us so soon?"
"Yes, sir."
"I am very sorry for that. Tell me your reason. I don't ask out of mere curiosity."
Henry replied with less than his usual candor; "Is it not reason enough for leaving a place, that my life has been attempted in it, and now my livelihood is taken?"
"Those are strong reasons. But, on the other hand, your life is no longer in danger; and your livelihood is not gone; for, to speak plainly, I came over here the moment I heard you were discharged, to ask if you would enter my service on the same terms as Mr. Cheetham gave you, only guineas instead of pounds."
"What, turn doctor?"
"Oh dear, no; the doctors' Union would forbid that. No, Mr. Little, I am going to ask you to pay me a compliment; to try my service blindfold for one week. You can leave it if you don't like it; but give me one week's trial."
"How can I refuse you that?" said Henry, hanging his head. "You have been a good friend to me. But, sir, mark my words, this place will be my destruction. Well, when am I to begin work?"
"To-morrow, at ten."
"So be it," said Henry, wearily, then left the works and went home; but, as he went, he said to himself. "It is not my doing." And his double-faced heart glowed and exulted secretly.
He told his mother how the Trades had beaten him, and he was out of work.
Mrs. Little consoled him hypocritically. She was delighted. Then he told her his departure had been delayed by Dr. Amboyne: that made her look a little anxious.
"One question, dear: now the Union has beaten you, they will not be so spiteful, will they?"
"Oh, no. That is all over. The conquerors can afford to be good- natured. Confound them!"
"Then that is all I care about. Then do not leave Hillsborough. Why should you? Wait here patiently. You do not know what may turn up."
"What, mother, do YOU want to stay here now?" said Henry, opening his eyes with astonishment.
"Wherever my son is happy and safe from harm, there I wish to stay-- of course."
Next morning Henry called on Dr. Amboyne, and found him in his study, teaching what looked a boy of sixteen, but was twenty-two, to read monosyllables. On Little's entrance the pupil retired front his uphill work, and glowered with vacillating eyes. The lad had a fair feminine face, with three ill things in it: a want, a wildness, and a weakness. To be sure Henry saw it at a disadvantage: for vivid intelligence would come now and then across this mild, wild, vacant face, like the breeze that sweeps a farm-yard pond.
"Good-morning, Little. This is your fellow-workman."
"He does not look up to much," said Henry, with all a workman's bluntness.
"What, you have found him out! Never mind; he can beat the town at one or two things, and it is for these we will use him. Some call him an idiot. The expression is neat and vigorous, but not precise; so I have christened him the Anomaly. Anomaly, this is Mr. Little; go and shake hands with him, and admire him."
The Anomaly went directly, and gazed into Little's face for some time.
He then made his report. "He is beautiful and black."
"I've seen him blacker. Now leave off admiring him, and look at these pictures while I prose. Two thousand philosophers are writing us dead with 'Labor and Capital.' But I vary the bore. 'Life, Labor, and Capital,' is my chant: and, whereas Life has hitherto been banished from the discussion, I put Life in its true place, at the head of the trio. (And Life I divide into long Life, and happy Life.) The subject is too vast to be dealt with all at once; but I'll give you a peep of it. The rustic laborer in the South sells his labor for too little money to support life comfortably. That is a foul wrong. The rustic laborer in the North has small wages, compared with a pitman, or a cutler; but he has enough for health, and he lives longer and more happily than either the pitman or the cutler; so that account is square, in my view of things. But now dive into the Hillsborough trades, and you will find this just balance of
"Yes, sir."
"I am very sorry for that. Tell me your reason. I don't ask out of mere curiosity."
Henry replied with less than his usual candor; "Is it not reason enough for leaving a place, that my life has been attempted in it, and now my livelihood is taken?"
"Those are strong reasons. But, on the other hand, your life is no longer in danger; and your livelihood is not gone; for, to speak plainly, I came over here the moment I heard you were discharged, to ask if you would enter my service on the same terms as Mr. Cheetham gave you, only guineas instead of pounds."
"What, turn doctor?"
"Oh dear, no; the doctors' Union would forbid that. No, Mr. Little, I am going to ask you to pay me a compliment; to try my service blindfold for one week. You can leave it if you don't like it; but give me one week's trial."
"How can I refuse you that?" said Henry, hanging his head. "You have been a good friend to me. But, sir, mark my words, this place will be my destruction. Well, when am I to begin work?"
"To-morrow, at ten."
"So be it," said Henry, wearily, then left the works and went home; but, as he went, he said to himself. "It is not my doing." And his double-faced heart glowed and exulted secretly.
He told his mother how the Trades had beaten him, and he was out of work.
Mrs. Little consoled him hypocritically. She was delighted. Then he told her his departure had been delayed by Dr. Amboyne: that made her look a little anxious.
"One question, dear: now the Union has beaten you, they will not be so spiteful, will they?"
"Oh, no. That is all over. The conquerors can afford to be good- natured. Confound them!"
"Then that is all I care about. Then do not leave Hillsborough. Why should you? Wait here patiently. You do not know what may turn up."
"What, mother, do YOU want to stay here now?" said Henry, opening his eyes with astonishment.
"Wherever my son is happy and safe from harm, there I wish to stay-- of course."
Next morning Henry called on Dr. Amboyne, and found him in his study, teaching what looked a boy of sixteen, but was twenty-two, to read monosyllables. On Little's entrance the pupil retired front his uphill work, and glowered with vacillating eyes. The lad had a fair feminine face, with three ill things in it: a want, a wildness, and a weakness. To be sure Henry saw it at a disadvantage: for vivid intelligence would come now and then across this mild, wild, vacant face, like the breeze that sweeps a farm-yard pond.
"Good-morning, Little. This is your fellow-workman."
"He does not look up to much," said Henry, with all a workman's bluntness.
"What, you have found him out! Never mind; he can beat the town at one or two things, and it is for these we will use him. Some call him an idiot. The expression is neat and vigorous, but not precise; so I have christened him the Anomaly. Anomaly, this is Mr. Little; go and shake hands with him, and admire him."
The Anomaly went directly, and gazed into Little's face for some time.
He then made his report. "He is beautiful and black."
"I've seen him blacker. Now leave off admiring him, and look at these pictures while I prose. Two thousand philosophers are writing us dead with 'Labor and Capital.' But I vary the bore. 'Life, Labor, and Capital,' is my chant: and, whereas Life has hitherto been banished from the discussion, I put Life in its true place, at the head of the trio. (And Life I divide into long Life, and happy Life.) The subject is too vast to be dealt with all at once; but I'll give you a peep of it. The rustic laborer in the South sells his labor for too little money to support life comfortably. That is a foul wrong. The rustic laborer in the North has small wages, compared with a pitman, or a cutler; but he has enough for health, and he lives longer and more happily than either the pitman or the cutler; so that account is square, in my view of things. But now dive into the Hillsborough trades, and you will find this just balance of