Squire Annis could hardly sit still, but the preacher looked at him and he obeyed the silent wish, as in the meantime Jonathan Hartley had asked Bradley a question, to partly answer the request made.
“If you want to know about the workers, all their rooms are large and cheerful, with plenty of fresh air in them. The weaving rooms are as light and airy as a bird cage. The looms are mostly managed by women, from seventeen to thirty, wi’ a sprinkling o’ married men and women. A solid trade principle governs t’ weaving room—so much work, for so much money—but I hev girls of eighteen in my mill, who are fit and able to thread the shuttles, and manage two looms, keeping up the pieces to mark, without oversight or help.”
Here he was interrupted by a man with long hair parted in the middle of the forehead, and dressed in a suit of fashionable cut, but cheap tailoring. “I hev come to this meeting,” he cried out, “to ask your parliamentary representative if he intends to vote for the Reform Bill, and to urge the better education of the lower classes.”
“Who bid thee come to this meeting?” asked Jonathan Hartley. “Thou has no business here. Not thou. And we weren’t born in Yorkshire to be fooled by thee.”
“I was told by friends of the people, that your member would likely vote against Reform.”
“Put him out! Put him out!” resounded from every quarter of the building, and for the first time since the meeting opened, there was a touch of enthusiasm. Then the squire stepped with great dignity to the front of the platform.
“Young men,” he said with an air of reproof, “this is not a political meeting. It is not even a public meeting. It is a gathering of friends to consider how best to relieve the poverty and idleness for which our weavers are not to blame—and we do not wish to be interrupted.”
“The blame is all wi’ you rich landowners,” he answered; “ivery one o’ you stand by a government that robs the poor man and protects the rich. I am a representative of the Bradford Socialists.”
“Git out! Git out! Will tha? If tha doesn’t, I’ll fling thee out like any other rubbish;” and as the man made no attempt to obey the command given, Hartley took him by the shoulder, and in spite of his protestations—received with general jeers and contempt—put him outside the chapel.
Squire Annis heartily approved the word, act and manner of Hartley’s little speech. The temperature of his blood rose to fighting heat, and he wanted to shout with the men in the body of the chapel. Yet his countenance was calm and placid, for Antony Annis was Master at Home, and could instantly silence or subdue whatever his Inner Man prompted that was improper or inconvenient.