“So you had better write and tell Alick to keep on the old place till the company must have it, and by that time we shall know what we are about.”
This was done directly after breakfast, and as soon as the letter had been despatched we went off to see the works.
“I shall never like this place,” I said, as we went down towards the town. “London was smoky enough, but this is terrible.”
“Oh, wait a bit!” said Uncle Dick, and as we strode on with me trying to take long steps to keep up with my companions, I could not help seeing how the people kept staring at them. And though there were plenty of big fine men in the town, I soon saw that my uncles stood out amongst them as being remarkable for their size and frank handsome looks. This was the more plainly to be seen, since the majority of the work-people we passed were pale, thin, and degenerate looking little men, with big muscular arms, and a general appearance of everything else having been sacrificed to make those limbs strong.
The farther we went the more unsatisfactory the town looked. We were leaving the great works to the right, and our way lay through streets and streets of dingy-looking houses all alike, and with the open channels in front foul with soapy water and the refuse which the people threw out.
I looked up with disgust painted on my face so strongly that Uncle Bob laughed.
“Here, let’s get this fellow a bower somewhere by a beautiful stream,” he cried, laughing. Then more seriously, “Never mind the dirt, Cob,” he cried. “Dirty work brings clean money.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” I said. “Which way now?”
“Down here,” said Uncle Dick; and he led us down a nasty dirty street, worse than any we had yet passed, and so on and on, for about half an hour, till we were once more where wheels whirred, and we could hear the harsh churring noise of blades being held upon rapidly revolving stones. Now and then, too, I caught sight of water on our right, down through lanes where houses and works were crowded together.
“Do you notice one thing, Cob?” said Uncle Dick.