A lady and her husband

by Amber Reeves Blanco White

James looked up again. He was making a hasty search for an argument that would prove that employees in public companies are necessarily better off than those who are employed by an individual master. He did not find the argument he desired, and he returned to the letter.

"I don't want you to think that I am blaming you, James, or that I think you are a bad employer. I know our girls are better treated than plenty of others. All the same, the work is too hard for them, and they are not paid enough. But the person I blame for it is myself. I have been taking half the profits and doing absolutely nothing for them. You have done your work of building the business, and done it splendidly, but I have neglected mine. If I had taken an interest in the girls from the beginning, as I should have done, it would not be necessary to make an upheaval now. But late as it is I feel that I must make it. Now that I know what their lives are like, I cannot live happily without trying to alter them, and that can only be done by altering the conditions of their work. I haven't decided this because I am obstinate or because I want to get my own way. Believe me, I would far rather come back to you without a shadow of difficulty between us. But it would not be right.

Your loving

Mary."

James put the letter down. It was final. She had done her worst. For a moment he was filled with pity for himself. His scheme was ruined! The wonderful scheme of which he had been so proud! Those columned cinematograph palaces of his dream would never be built—they were doomed by a woman's caprice. The builders and painters they might have employed would go empty away. The public that might have enjoyed his first-rate films would continue to enjoy the films of other people. The money that might have made him a rich man would continue to flow into other people's pockets. And all because Mary— He pulled himself up. He must think, and think quickly, not of his grievances but of what he had better do. There must be some way among all the devious ways of commerce of getting round a mere woman's decision. He could, of course, leave Mary out of it and carry out his projects by himself. He could sell his share of the business to the Afternoon Tea Company, or he could persuade Mary to buy him out. Then she could wreck the Imperial with her damned philanthropy if she wanted to—without him to manage for her she would wreck it fast enough, whether she tried philanthropy or not.

For a moment or two he turned over these possibilities. They would dish Mary all right, as far as her schemes of coercing him went, but that, as he considered them, seemed their only attraction. For one thing everyone would want to know why he had given up the Imperial and Mary would no doubt supply an explanation. That wasn't good enough for a man well known to have a liberal mind. In the next place he could not afford to smash the Imperial, as Mary would certainly smash it. She would never allow herself to be guided by Trent. The Imperial was his life's work, it stood for his life's credit—besides it was one thing to invest in this new venture with another business safe and sound at his back; it was a different thing to go into it, at his age, when he might come out a beggar. No, Mary had got him cornered. His only hope, it seemed, was to appear to consent to her plans and then to wear her down. Plans of hers were certain at some point to be impracticable.

He was cornered, but he could not believe it. As he paced the floor his brain worked feverishly—as actively, with as great a strength and sureness, he felt, as it had ever worked in the great days of the Imperial's expansion. It was impossible that he, with his brilliance, his reputation, his knowledge of business, could be brought to a stop by a scruple of his wife's. He went back to the thought of deserting the Imperial—he was proud of the Imperial, but he was also wearied of managing it. It had been all right while new openings were presenting themselves every day, but now the thing had established itself in a routine. For twenty Marys he wasn't going to spend the rest of his working life like an old horse at a wheel....

What he wanted, he told himself, was an idea—one of his famous ideas. He had always before, in moments of crises, been able to depend on his wits—why should he fail himself now! He must have an idea, if only to present it to Trent when Trent came home....

The idea, when it came, was so little the idea for which he had been hoping that he did not welcome it as it deserved. But in ten minutes he had almost accepted it. It was new, it was interesting, it was exciting. Mary, it seemed, was set upon making him one of your model employers. Very well then, let them be the most model employers in England, the most blatantly, spotlessly, ostentatiously model, and then he would go into Parliament as the nation's hope. That could be his reason for dropping his other scheme. He had been persuaded at last, he could say, that it was his duty to stand. And in a way, after all, why shouldn't it be his duty?

"For of all the political problems that vex our age, what is more pressing and more difficult than the urgent problem of labour? It cannot be postponed, gentlemen, it cannot be ignored! The recent strikes have brought it home to the heart of every honest Englishman. And how is it to be solved, apart from violence and class hatred and mob law—which as my hearers know are not a solution—except by a new spirit on the part of both employers and employed? A less grudging spirit—a less material spirit! And moreover, like all movements that are worth anything, this change must spring not from the ignorant masses but from the enlightened few. We, if only to shame them by our example, must take the first step—" He was already deep in his speech when Trent came in.

James turned to his son with a benign and serious air. "I've had a letter from your mother, Trent," he said, "and she says that she is coming back to-morrow!"

Trent halted for a moment midway between the fireplace and the door. Then, continuing his way, he answered soberly, "I'm very glad to hear it. Does she say what she has decided about the reconstruction?"