“Thank God, you know it,” said Tom Bradshaw reverently.
And in another minute, Rupert knew it better still, when he moved to the window with William. The factory yard below them was packed with a cheering mass of workpeople, and every inlet to it showed a sea of heads stretching as far as the eye could reach. Not one tenth the employees of the great mills could stand within sight of the window; those who were there had gained priority of place because they worked in the departments nearest the yard, but not by any means all whose work was nearby had come and it struck William, if not Rupert, that the people here assembled were chiefly elderly or very young. The elders, like the gate-keeper who had passed the word of Rupert’s coming into the mills, had genuinely an impulse of loyalty to a Hepplestall; the very young were ready to make a noise in a crowd gathered upon any occasion; and the merely young had for the most part made no effort to struggle into the yard.
To Rupert, this was Hepplestall’s making spontaneous levy in mass to welcome him; a little absurd of them, even if their prince had been princely, but undeniably affecting. He must play up to these acclamations, he must say something gracious, and he must not condescend. He was an ass whom they lionized, but he wouldn’t bray. He offered to speak, and the hearty roar below him diminished.
It has been observed before to-day that the contemptuous noise known as “booing” is unable to assert itself against cheers, whereas a few sharp hisses cut like a whip across any but the greatest uproar. As the cheers diminished in anticipation of his speech, the appearance of unanimity was shattered by derisive hissing, drowned at once by renewed volume of cheers, but more than sufficient to indicate an opposition.
Behind him in the room he heard Mary’s quick “What’s that?” he heard Tom say “Poor lad! Poor lad!” Who was a poor lad? He? He never did like honey; he didn’t want the leadership of sheep and he began to speak without preamble.
“It’s a tremendous thing to be a Hepplestall and if you cheered just now because my name is Hepplestall I think that you were right. Some of you hissed. If that was because I am a Hepplestall, I think that you were wrong, but if it was because I’ve been a long time in coming here, then you were right. I shirked the responsibility. I had the thought to take my capital out of Hepplestall’s and to put it into something soft. But a man said to me lately that capital that failed to accept responsibility was going to get it in the neck. I agreed and my capital stops in something tough, in Hepplestall’s. And another thing. We’ve made hay of the hereditary principle as such. If I’ve no merit, I shan’t presume on being Sir Philip’s son. In the mills side by side with you, it will be discovered whether I have merit or no. Now, I am not a socialist. I shall take the wages of capital and if I rise to be your manager, I shall take the wages of management. That’s blunt and I expect some of you are taking it as a challenge. Then those are the very fellows who are going to help me most. We’ll arrive amongst us at the knowledge of what is capital’s fair wage and what is management’s fair wage. I am here to learn and I am here to serve. If you will believe that, it will help us all; it will help more than had I kept my motives to myself and simply made you a speech of thanks for the home-coming welcome you have given me. The welcome expressed some disapproval and I should not have been honest if I had pretended that I didn’t notice it. I am not out to earn your approval by methods which might be contrary to the interests of Staithley Mills. I am out to serve Hepplestall’s, not sectionally, but as a whole. I look to you to show me my way, and while I have to thank you wholeheartedly for your cheers, I am absolutely sincere in thanking you for your hisses. They are the beginning of my education. I haven’t a sweet tooth and I liked them. We’re not going to get together easily, I and those fellows who hissed. Well, strong bonds aren’t forged easily and I can’t be more than a trier. I’m Hepplestall and proud of it, and I dare say that’s enough for some of you. It isn’t enough for me until I’ve proved myself and it isn’t enough for the fellows who hissed. I’m asking them for fair play for a Hepplestall. I’m asking for a chance. I’m going to do my best and I’m keeping you from home. It’s good of you to stay and I’ve said my say. You’ve not had butter; you’ve had facts. My thanks to you for listening. Good night.”
They cheered and he stood at the window as they dispersed, trying to remember what he had said, trying to gauge its effect upon the men. There were no hisses, but that meant nothing; a demonstration of opposition had been made and needn’t be repeated. But, anyhow, he hadn’t lied; he hadn’t pretended that he had their esteem before he earned it; and he meant to earn it.
He turned from the window to Tom Bradshaw; neither to Mary nor to William, but to Tom. “Did I talk awful tosh?” he asked. “Honestly, I don’t know what I said.”
“A young speaker never does, and, some ways, he’s the better for having no tricks of the trade. You’ll do, lad. You’ll do.”
Rupert’s face was bright as he heard the approbation of a Bradshaw under the portrait of Reuben Hepplestall. “Hepplestall and proud of it! Did I say that?”