Worthy of his name

by Eglanton Thorne

Edith was sorry, not alone because she loved the place, but also because she had counted on seeing, from time to time, Gus, in whom she continued to feel much interest. She knew, however, that Gus could not be better off than in the care of Mr. Mouncey, so she tried to console herself with the reflection that he did not want her now, and the boys in her Sunday class at Glensford did. But somehow, there was not one of these boys whom she loved as she loved Gus. There was something so charming about the frank, manly boy; he was at once so gentle and so bold. She was disposed to say, with Mr. Mouncey, that she had never seen a lad just like him.

The news that Mr. Gibson had sold the mill was received with sorrow by his work-people. They had served him for so many years—some of the older men had worked for his father before they worked for him—that the idea of a new master was far from agreeable to them. And if Mr. Gibson, who had known the business all his life, had failed to make it pay, was it likely, they asked, that a stranger, who, if report said truly, had never tried paper-making before, was likely to succeed?

But Philip Darnell knew what he was about; the men soon saw that plainly enough. He had not purchased the concern without shrewdly calculating ways and means, and discerning how he could get good interest for his money. Changes were made at the mill. The old foreman, sorely to his mortification, was dismissed. Several of the old hands followed him.

The management of the mill was given to a man who came from London, and brought several workmen with him. A new method of paper-making was adopted; and if the paper was not so good as formerly, it was produced at less cost, and found a readier market. Wages were cut down, and economy exercised in every direction. Some of the work-people refused to take the lower wage, and moved away from Rayleigh, in the hope of finding better-paid work elsewhere; but the majority were of opinion that a "bird in the hand is worth two in the bush," and preferred to earn what they could at Rayleigh rather than risk coming to destitution in a strange place. But the change was bitter to them, and they regarded the new master with little favour.

But Philip Darnell cared not what might be the feelings cherished towards him by those whom he employed. To him, they were merely the "hands," human machines, out of which he was determined to grind as much work as possible, at the greatest profit to himself. He came with his wife and children to spend the summer at Rayleigh, and they took possession of the Mill House, as it was called, living there in a far more extravagant and showy style than the Gibsons had adopted.

Mrs. Darnell, magnificently attired, drove about in a handsome landau, drawn by a pair of spirited bays. She expected the men to touch their hats when they saw her, and the women to drop a humble curtsey; but she made no effort to enter into friendly relations with them. She would as soon have thought of going to work at the mill as of visiting the wives and mothers in their homes, as Mrs. Gibson had been wont to do. The grand lady in her carriage saw them separated from her by a wide chasm of social inequality, across which no sense of a common womanhood could draw her.

And the people were quick to feel that they were looked down upon, and to resent the fact. As the months passed on, the spirit of discontent deepened and spread. But the mill prospered, and Philip Darnell was pleased with the success of his new enterprise. He was making money by the business, and that was all he desired. He had no idea of any higher success than that of doing well to himself; no sense of any responsibility for the well-being of those who worked for him.

Another winter came, and another. There was little outward change at Rayleigh; but quietly, yet surely, the feeling of ill-will between employer and employed was growing stronger, and taking deeper root. Philip Darnell had no consciousness of anything being wrong; he had never felt more prosperous and confident, nor more insolently disdainful of every one who tried to check the working of his will.

Sebastian Mouncey came in for a large share of contempt, because he would now and again intercede for some dismissed workman, or try in one way or another to make the mill-owner feel for his "hands" as men. It was in vain he made appeal for any sort of charity to Philip Darnell. He had no sympathy with the clergyman in his schemes for the benefit of his poor brothers and sisters; nor, though once on a Sunday his carriage—the distance was barely half a mile—carried him and his wife to the church door, had he any real belief in the truths the vicar endeavoured to teach.

Nearly three years had passed since Gus came to Rayleigh. He was "little Gus" no longer; but a strong, well-grown lad for his years. He had passed the highest standard at the village school, and had turned to good account his private lessons with the vicar.