CHAPTER XXIV.—THE WORK.
Philip spoke lightly to Madge about the ‘chambers in town;’ but he was not quite satisfied with the arrangement, when she told him frankly that she did not like it. He confessed that the idea pleased him chiefly because it would give him a sense of independence, which he could never experience so long as he remained at Ringsford and the family continued to be in the same mood as at present. Very little had been said to him there, beyond a few expressions of curiosity on the part of the girls, and a cunning question from Coutts as to what guarantee Uncle Shield could give for the wealth he professed to possess.
‘The amount he promised to place at my disposal is in the bank,’ Philip answered; ‘and that, I fancy, would be sufficient, Coutts, to satisfy even you.’
Coutts nodded, was silent, and began privately to speculate on the possibility of ingratiating himself with this mysterious relative, who seemed to have discovered the mines of Golconda.
Nothing more was said. Mr Hadleigh enjoined silence on the subject until he should please to speak; and he had done so with a sternness which effectually checked the tongue even of Miss Hadleigh, who, being ‘engaged,’ felt herself in some measure released from parental authority.
The consequence was that there had grown up a feeling of constraint, which was exceedingly irksome to the frank, loving nature of Philip; and yet he could not divine how he was to overcome it. He could not tell whether this feeling was due to his own anxiety to reconcile two opposing elements, or to the unspoken irritation of the family with him for having leagued himself with their enemy. It never occurred to him that any one of them could be jealous of his good fortune.
However, this new arrangement seemed to offer an opportunity for making the position clear. Standing apart from the influence of his family, he would be able to consider all the circumstances of his position with more calmness and impartiality than would be otherwise possible.
At the same time, he was a good deal perplexed by the conduct of Mr Shield, and was gradually beginning to feel something like vexation at it. There was the difficulty of seeing him, and then the impossibility of getting him to discuss anything when he did see him. Mr Shield was still at the Langham; and if Philip called without having made an appointment, he was either sent away with some excuse, which he knew to be nothing more than an excuse, or there was a great fuss of attendants entering and leaving the room before he was admitted. On these occasions Philip was conscious of an atmosphere of brandy-and-soda; and several times his uncle had been served with a glass of this potent mixture during their interviews, brief as they were. It was to this weakness Philip had been about to refer, when speaking to Dame Crawshay, and to it he was disposed to attribute much of his uncle’s eccentricity of conduct.
But he was always the same roughly good-natured man, although short of speech and decided in manner.
‘Once for all,’ he said gruffly, when Philip made a more strenuous effort than usual to induce him to discuss the scheme he was elaborating; ‘I am not a good talker—see things clearer when they are put down on paper for me. You do that; and if there is anything that does not please me, I’ll tell you fast enough in writing. Then there can be no mistakes between us. Had enough of mistakes in my time already.’
And notwithstanding his peculiarly jerky mode of expressing himself in talking, his letters were invariably clear and to the point. They formed, indeed, a bewildering contrast to the man as he appeared personally, for they were the letters of one who had clear vision and cool judgment. But as yet Philip had not found any opportunity to approach the subject of a reconciliation with his father. He kept that object steadily in view, however, and waited patiently for the right moment in which to speak.
Wrentham was well pleased that Mr Shield should keep entirely in the background; it left him the more freedom in action; and he was delighted with his appointment as general manager for Philip. His first transaction in that capacity was to sublet his offices in Golden Alley to his principal. This saved so much expense, and there were the clerks and all the machinery ready for conducting any business which might be entered upon. Wrentham had agreeable visions of big prizes to be won on the Stock Exchange. He was confident that the whole theory of exchange business was as simple as A B C to him; and only the want of a little capital had prevented him from making a large fortune long ago. His chance had come at last.
Here was this young man, who knew almost nothing of business, but possessed capital which he desired to employ. He, Martin Wrentham, knew how to employ it to the best advantage. What more simple, then? He should employ the capital; instead of dabbling in hundreds, he would be able to deal in thousands, and in no time he would double the capital and make his own fortune too!
But when the time came for Philip to unfold the project which he had been quietly maturing, the sanguine and volatile Wrentham was for an instant dumb with amazement, then peered inquiringly into the face of the young capitalist, as if seeking some symptoms of insanity, and next laughed outright.
‘That’s the best joke I have heard for a long time,’ he exclaimed.
‘Where is the joke?’ asked Philip, a little surprised.
‘You don’t mean to say that you are serious in thinking of investing your capital in this way?’ Wrentham’s hilarity disappeared as he spoke.
‘Perfectly serious; and Mr Shield approves of the idea.’
‘But you will never make money out of it.’
‘I do not know what you may mean by making money; but unless the calculations which have been supplied to me by practical men are utterly wrong, I shall obtain a fair percentage on the capital invested. I do not mean to do anything foolish, for I consider the money as held in trust, and will do what is in my power to make a good use of it.’
‘You want to drive Philanthropy and Business in one team; but I never heard of them going well in harness together.’
‘I think they have done so, and may do so again,’ said Philip cheerfully.
‘You will be an exception to all the rules I know anything about, if you manage to make them go together. If you had five times the capital you are starting with, you could make nothing out of it.’
‘I hope to make a great deal out of it, although not exactly in the sense you mean.’
Wrentham passed his hand through his hair, as if he despaired of bringing his principal to reason.
‘What do you expect to make out of it?’
‘First of all, beginning on our small scale, we shall provide work for so many men. By the system of paying for the work done, rather than by wages whether the work is done or not, each man will be able to earn the value of what he can produce or cares to produce.’
‘You will not find half-a-dozen men willing to accept that arrangement.’
‘We must make the most of those we do find. When the advantages are made plain in practice, others will come in fast enough.’
‘The Unions will prevent them.’
‘It is a kind of Union I am proposing to form—a Union of capital and labour. Then, I propose to divide amongst the men all profits above, say, six or eight per cent. on the capital, in proportion to the work each has done. I believe we shall find plenty of workmen, who will understand and appreciate the scheme.’
Wrentham was resting his elbows on the table and twisting a piece of paper between his fingers. He had got over his first surprise. The one thing he understood was, that Philip would hold obstinately to this ridiculous ideal of a social revolution until experience showed him how impracticable it was. The one thing he did not understand was, how Mr Shield had agreed to let him try it.
‘I admire the generous spirit which prompts you to try this experiment; it is excellent, benevolent, and all that sort of thing,’ he said coolly; ‘but it is not business, and it will be a failure. Every scheme of the same sort that has been tried has failed. However, I shall do my best to help you. How do you propose to begin?’
Philip was prepared for this lukewarm support; he had not expected Wrentham to enter upon the plan with enthusiasm, and was aware that men of business would regard it as a mere fancy, in which a good deal of money would be thrown away. But he was confident that the result would justify his sanguine calculations.
‘I am sorry you cannot take a more cheerful view of my project, Wrentham; but I hope some day to hear you own that you were mistaken. We shall begin by buying this land—here is the plan. Then if we get it at a fair price, we shall proceed to erect two blocks of good healthy tenements for working-people. We shall be our own contractors, and so begin our experiment with the men at once. Take the plans home with you, and look them over; and to-morrow you can open negotiations for the purchase of the land.’
Wrentham’s eyes brightened.
‘Ah, that’s better—that’s something I can do.’
‘You will find that there are many things you can do in carrying out the work,’ said Philip, smiling.
The general manager was restored to equanimity by the prospect of a speculation in land. The young enthusiast went his way, contented with the thought that he had taken the first step towards a social reform of vast importance.
The same afternoon the agents for the land in question received a communication from a solicitor inquiring the terms on which it was to be sold.