‘So I should suppose from the way you have come to me. Well, my brother was clerk and traveller for my business. He was supposed to help me to keep accounts and to push the sale of my goods among the shopkeepers in Connaught. As a matter of fact, he never did either the one or the other. When he was at home he did nothing. When he was on the road he bought and sold horses. I paid him eighty pounds a year and his travelling expenses. I also promised him a percentage on the profits of the sales he effected. Now, do you think this work would suit you?’
‘I might not be able to do it,’ said Hyacinth, ‘but I should very much like to be allowed to try. I can understand that I shall be very little use at first, and I am willing to work without any salary for a time, perhaps six months, until I have learned something about your business.’
‘Come, now, that’s a business-like offer. I’ll give you a trial, if it was only for the sake of your list of references. I won’t keep you six months without paying you if you turn out to be any good at all. And I think there must be something in you, for you’ve gone about getting this job in the queerest way I ever heard of. Would you like any time to make up your mind finally before accepting the post?’
‘No,’ said Hyacinth; ‘I accept at once.’
They walked together through the mill, and looked at the machines and the workers. The girls smiled when Mr. Quinn stopped to speak to them, and looked with frank curiosity at Hyacinth. The three or four men who did the heavier work stopped and chatted for a few minutes when they came to them. Evidently there was no soreness or distrust here between the employer and the employed. When they had gone through the rooms where the work was going on, they climbed a staircase like a ladder, and came to the loft where the wool was stored. Hyacinth handled it as he was directed, and endeavoured to appreciate the difference between the good and the inferior qualities. They passed by an unglazed window at the back of the mill, and Mr. Quinn pointed out his own house. It stood among trees and shrubs, now for the most part bare, but giving promise of shady privacy in summertime. Long windows opened out on to a lawn stretching down to the watercourse which fed the millwheel. A gravel path skirted one side of the house leading to a bridge, and thence to a doorway in a high wall, beyond which lay the road. As they looked the door opened, and a woman with two little girls came through. They crossed the bridge, and walked up to the house.
‘That is my wife,’ said Mr. Quinn, ‘and my two little girls.’
He stretched out between the bars of the window, and shouted to them. All three looked back. Mrs. Quinn waved her hand, and the two children shouted in reply. Then a light appeared in one of the windows, and Hyacinth caught a glimpse of a trim maid-servant pulling the curtains across it.
‘We shall be having tea at half-past six,’ said Mr. Quinn. ‘Will you come and join us? By the way, where are you staying?’
Hyacinth accepted the invitation, and confessed that he had not as yet looked for any place to lay his head.
‘Ah! Better go to the hotel for to-night. It’s not much of a place, but you will have to learn to put up with that sort of accommodation. Tomorrow we’ll try and find you some decent lodgings.’