He smiled and nodded.
“Yes,” he said, “some rest.”
I hurried away at the last, leaving Linny with him, and a more easy cheerful look upon his countenance, and soon after I was at Mr Ruddle’s, to find all ready, our friends collected, and the invited people coming fast.
“‘Festina lente’ is a good motto, Grace,” said old Mr Girtley, taking me by the button. “A little more patience, and we should have had this right last time, though or course we could not guard against the accident. Ah, Tom,” he continued, “how’s parchment? I’d rather have seen you the schemer of this machine, my boy, than the winner of the most tangled legal case.”
“Rather hard that, Tony, when I have just won you five hundred a year and a wife, eh?” said Tom, laughing; and then my attention was taken up in a dozen ways. There were the brothers Rowle to talk to; Mr Grimstone to shake my hand; Mr Ruddle to chat with about the success of the machine, and about Lister, concerning whom he made a significant motion, turning his hand into a drinking-vessel, and shaking his head.
Then there was a hitch. Everything was declared in readiness, when it was found that the shaft that ran through the building was ceasing to revolve.
It came like a black cloud over the proceedings, but it was only the stoker’s neglect. Half an hour after, the steam was well up once more, and, with the room crowded, Mr Girtley, just as on the last occasion, gave the long leathern band a twitch; shaft was connected with shaft; a touch from a long lever tightened the driving-wheel and its fellow portion; there was a whirring, clanking noise, the spinning of wheels, the revolving of cylinders; ink-rollers ran round; the great reel of paper began to give its fair surface to the kiss of the type; the speed was increased, faster—faster—faster, and those who had shrunk back at first, as if expecting an accident, grew excited and drew in, while the ponderous machine, working as easily as a watch, turned off perfected newspaper sheets at a rate that seemed astounding.
There was no hesitation now; there were no doubting looks, but a hearty cheer arose, one that was taken up again on the staircase, and ran from room to room, till the girls, busy folding down below, joined their shrill voices merrily in the cry.
“Success, Tony!” cried Tom, catching my hand.
“And Hallett not here!” I cried.