It created a deal of excitement. Hard as times were, the tickets sold rapidly. The large room had two long tables, with benches for seats. The first table was to be served at eight o'clock, the second at nine. Sylvie made a dozen of the girls pretty Suisse aprons and dainty caps, and they waited on the guests. Dr. Maverick offered three prizes,—one for the best loaf of bread, one for the best plain cake, and a third for the nicest and cheapest invalid broth.
The room was full, and they had a very gay time. Indeed, it seemed as if half Yerbury turned out, either from honor or curiosity. At nine o'clock they ran short of provision, when they honorably decided to refund the money for all tickets offered after that, and explain to new-comers the state of affairs. But some of the young men proposed a dance; and they went on for the next two hours in hearty, healthy jollity.
Out of ten loaves of bread offered, Mary Moran took the prize. That for the cake was awarded to quite a new scholar; while Kitty Miles carried off that for broth, three doctors concurring in the decision. And the treasurer found they had cleared fifty dollars above expenses, so that it proved a success in more ways than one. There had been a great dearth of amusement for the poorer classes in Yerbury this winter.
"Sure, it was just splendid!" said Bridget McKim. "My boy Mike had a week's wages in his pocket that night, and he was goin' off to the Ivy Leaf to raffle for a turkey; an' ses I, 'Mike, ye niver took me out of a Christmas, so do it now along o' the cookin' school party, an' ye'll get the best bit o' turkey yes ever put in yer mouth.' An' so he did; an' he said it was the best show he iver was to, and he wouldn't 'a' missed seein' Mary Moran get the prize fur twice the money. An' so he went home with me, ye see, as sober as an owl, and we bought our own turkey; but if he'd gone to the tavern, not a cint would he had of his week's wages, and been drunk beside! An' he used to be swate on Mary too, so there's no knowin' what may happen!"
The school took a fortnight's vacation. Sylvie and Miss Morgan felt that it was no longer an experiment. It would be put to wider uses, and perhaps was the corner-stone of a great work, sorely needed in this world; the same kind of work Jack Darcy had begun over in the mill yonder,—planting beacon-lights on the path where so many had stumbled and gone down for want of true and honest guidance.
"It will have to be remodelled somewhat," said Miss Morgan. "I can't have you working like a slave, even if it is in a good cause. There is something still higher for you."
CHAPTER XVIII.
After the first of January it came off bitterly cold. Coal went up half a dollar on a ton; and flour rose, more by the greed of speculators than any scarcity, or any demand for it abroad. There was considerable suffering, though not as much as the winter before. The men and women and boys and girls at Hope Mills were thankful enough for their seventy-five per cent, and did their very best. A spirit of economy and emulation ran through the whole brotherhood. Every month Cameron announced whatever saving had been made in different departments, and the hands were proud enough of it. Those who had taken their whole winter's coal out of the share were quite jubilant. Once a week the workmen had a meeting, and discussed matters a little. Three men had been reprimanded, but on the whole the morale was excellent. Winston was on the alert continually, east, west, anywhere, buying here, selling there, seeing in every thing the promise of better times.