"And are ye sure ye have a clear comprehension of what are the rights of humanity?" struck in the deep Scotch voice. Mr. Dunlop had finished his partridge, and, having laid down his knife and fork, seemed ready to begin hostilities in earnest.
"I tell ye what it is," he went on, without waiting for a reply, "it would pay all you capitalists and employers just to take a look into things a little, to see what your men are doing and thinking—what the 'Knights' and 'Unions' are after—and consider if ye couldn't arrive at some rational understanding. There's nothing would propitiate them quicker than that. This thing's going to grow! It's young yet, and only totters on its feet; but by and by it will be as we say in Scotland, 'neither to haud nor to bind!' Awhile ago, ye were speaking of 'Fraternity and Equality,' Mr. Pomeroy. There was a third thing that went wi' them in the old days, that ye didna' mention! We're supposed to have got Liberty, and it's bound to work out its own salvation. I tell ye there's a big, silent army, marshalling without fife or drum, and if ye persist in ignoring it, as the grandees of France did before their Revolution, ye'll maybe have a revolution, too. What if the men were growing nae poorer? They see you all growing richer, the style of living rising on all hands. Can they be o' the same stock with you, and no want to rise too? And then wi' your 'protection' an' your 'combines,' ye're loading them down wi' a greater weight o' taxation than it took to make your ancestors rise and fight, shoulder to shoulder, for their independence! But ye won't see it! It's been aye the way, 'Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad'!"
"Why, Mr. Dunlop, I had no idea you were such a pessimist! You must have been taking an extra dose of Carlyle!" said Mr. Pomeroy, evidently trying to smooth out a frown, and retain his usual bland exterior.
"Aye! I've read my 'French Revolution' to some purpose, an' human nature's the same in all places and ages," was the grim reply.
"And what would you have us poor blinded creatures do?" inquired his host; "take all our men into partnership? A nice muddle they'd soon make of it!"
Miss Harley had been listening with deep interest to the little skirmish, her cheek flushing slightly, and her clear eyes shining with some vivid emotion. Now she spoke, with a soft clearness of tone that seemed to give every word additional weight.
"I think," she said, "that we, in England, have got so much accustomed now to the word coöperation, that it begins to sound quite natural to us. Mr. Ruskin, of course, did a great deal to drive it into us, and a good many others have caught it up. And I can tell you something of the success of one experiment. My father had extensive works in Wiltshire. He had been reading Ruskin's Fors Clavigera, mainly on social matters, you know, and, being a Quaker, and having strict ideas as to duty, he began to think he wasn't using his men quite fairly. He knew, too, that there were some socialists among them, trying to breed mischief, and he thought he would try an experiment. So he invited a large number of the more intelligent of the men to meet him and hear his report of the state of the business. He laid it all before them, in the most precise and business-like way, explained the assets and debts—cost of working, annual proceeds, and all. He tried to give them an idea of the risks run, the capital needed, the fluctuations of trade, and so on, and then he told them that he would give to each man who proved his steadiness, and who chose to accept it, instead of wages, a certain share in the profits, graduated according to the value of his work. Of course it was only the picked men who accepted. The more shiftless and less intelligent preferred to take their ordinary wage, which was always a generous one, thinking 'a bird in the hand was worth two in the bush'. But the others made, my father used to say, 'capital partners'—they took such an interest in the business, were constantly suggesting little improvements and ways of saving waste, and were always on the lookout for all carelessness or 'scamped work' among the other men. And when a tight time came, they were able to convince the others that if they were kept on at all, it must be at a reduction. 'You see we can't afford more,' I've heard one man say to another, going home from work. And when there were 'strikes' and failures all around, his business continued to live on, like an organic creature, as he used to say, drawing itself in or letting itself out according to circumstances. And sometimes the generosity of the men in a slack time used to bring tears to his eyes, as he would tell us about it with pleasure and pride."
Every one had listened with interest to the pleasant little episode. Mr. Chillingworth's dark eyes had lighted up with enthusiasm.
"Ah, that was beautiful, indeed!" he said, with a warmer spontaneity than usual. "Thank you, indeed, Miss Harley, for telling us about it. That is how things should stand between master and men. We have some noble men in the old land yet!"
"Now, Mr. Chillingworth," broke in his hostess, "you're not going to go back on us, surely!"