So on the following Monday morning, Gus began his work in the counting-house. He would still live at the cottage, but he was now to pay a small sum for his board and lodging, and he felt proud that he could do so.
From eight in the morning till six in the evening, with the exception of an hour in the middle of the day, when he went home to have his dinner, he was in the counting-house. It seemed irksome at first to sit so long before a high desk; but he worked well, and gave satisfaction to Mr. Ellary.
It was now late autumn, and Mr. Darnell had returned to his London residence for the winter, contenting himself with coming down once a week to see that things were going right at the mill, so that Gus saw but little of him.
The title of "gentleman" had not followed Gus to Rayleigh, but he deserved it as much as he had ever done. In his new position, he showed a courtesy, kindliness, and candour which the noblest-born could hardly have surpassed. As a natural consequence, he became a general favourite with the mill-hands.
[CHAPTER XVII.]
THE MILL-HANDS "STRIKE."
IT was a Saturday evening towards the end of November. The six o'clock bell had rung, and the "hands," both men and women, were streaming out of Rayleigh Mill. The atmosphere was raw and cold, yet the work-people did not hasten to their homes, as they were wont to do. They gathered in knots outside the gates, talking eagerly. Some of the faces were flushed and triumphant, some pale and anxious-looking; but each told of unusual excitement. The younger people shouted and laughed; but their elders, especially the women, looked troubled. They were thinking forebodingly of empty cupboards and fireless grates.
As the last band of workers passed through the gates, the crowd broke into a loud "Hurrah!" The mill-hands had come out "on strike," and unless Philip Darnell yielded to their demands—which he had vowed he would not do—not one would enter the mill on Monday morning.
Amongst his employés, there was only one who had refused to join the strike, and that was the young clerk, Gus Rew. In vain, the men had urged him to forsake his post; in vain, when persuasions failed, had they resorted to threats. Gus was happy in his work, and satisfied with his pay; besides, he knew that Sebastian Mouncey disapproved of the action of the men. Had they listened to his counsel, their position might have been improved without such an exhibition of between master and men; but they had turned from their old friend to listen to the florid rhetoric and ardent appeals of a trade-unionist from London.
The mill-hands had passed out, and one of the great gates was already closed when Gus appeared, accompanied by Mr. Ellary.