“You are usually asked to come into it, Mr. Bradshaw. You have hardly asked to-day,” said William.
“Please yourself,” said Tom. “I’ve been sitting a long while in the train. I can stand, only I’ve a bad habit of making speeches when I’m on my feet and I’d as lief have had this friendly.”
It surprised and annoyed Rupert that William pointed to a chair with an “If you please, Mr. Bradshaw.” Himself, he would have kicked the confounded fellow into the street and when he had gone it would have been Mary’s turn for—not for kicking, certainly, but for something severe in the way of disciplinary measures. “Friendly!” he scoffed.
“What you might call a benevolent enemy, Sir Rupert,” said Tom. “If I weren’t benevolent, I’d have gone into Staithley streets and cried it aloud that Hepplestall’s was being sold to Londoners, and I’d have watched the hornets sting you. But, being benevolent, I’d rather you didn’t get stung, and I’m here till I get your assurance that all thought of a sale is off.”
“That means you’re making quite a long stay with us, Mr. Bradshaw,” said Rupert elaborately.
“I wonder how much you know of the Staithley folk, Sir Rupert,” said Tom. “They’re fighting stock. You maybe know there’s a likely chance of things coming to a big strike in the cotton trade on the wages question, but that’s not just yet and if you don’t watch it there’ll be an urgency strike in Staithley that might begin to-night. One of these wicked strikes you read about. Without notice.”
“But you... Mr. Bradshaw, you’re the chief Union official.”
“Oh, yes,” said Tom, “and officially the strike would be unofficial. But I’d be roundabout, unofficially. Rum sort of strike, eh? Striking against the Hepplestalls for the Hepplestalls, and a Bradshaw leading it. If you knew owt of Bradshaws and Hepplestalls, you’ll see the rumminess of that.”
“Against us for us. Yes, I see. One might almost conclude you like the Hepplestalls, Mr. Bradshaw.”
“Like ‘em!” said Tom. “Like ‘em!” His eyes glanced at William with the suspicion of a twinkle in it. William wondered if there was a twinkle; Sir Philip would not have wondered, he would have seen and he would have understood. He would have discounted Tom’s next words, “I take the liberty of telling you the Hepplestalls are a thieving gang of blood-sucking capitalists, but I prefer to stick to the blood-suckers I know. I know the Hepplestalls and I can talk to them. I don’t know, I won’t talk to a soulless mob of a London syndicate. You can think of it like this, Sir Rupert. There was steam, and it fastened like a vampire on Lancashire. It fastened on your sort as well as on my sort, and we’ve been working up to where we’re getting steam in its place, obeying us, not mastering us. We’re doing well against steam. Shorter hours are here, and factory work before breakfast has gone. Half-timers are going, and education’s going to get a sporting chance. And we’re not beating steam to let ourselves be ruined by water.”