There was, however, one quarter of the deserted town where the people were not holiday-making, but still labouring—for what was to them, indeed, dear life—one district where the toil knew no cessation—where the workmen had no money to spend on pleasure, getting barely enough—slave as they might—to keep soul and body together.
Round about the wretched purlieus of Rochdale-road the clicking of the shuttles of the handloom weavers might still be heard. Early, long before the light, and long after the dark, the weaver’s dim lamp might be seen in the attic or cellar, and where some five-and-twenty were styed together under one wretched roof, Mr. Sandboys was led by Inspector Johnny Wren.
At the top of the house he found the rooms crowded with crazy old looms, so that it was scarcely possible to move between—and here, with beds of sacks of straw, and nothing but their own rags to cover them by night, were a band of grim, hollow-cheeked, and half-starved men, toiling away for a crust—and nothing more.
Mr. Sandboys started back in horror as he looked at the pinched faces and gaunt figures of the workers. He asked why they were not, like the rest of the town, at the Exhibition of the Industry of all Nations.
“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed out one with a week’s beard on his chin—“last week I earnt three and ninepence, and this week I shall have got two and a penny. Exhibition of Industry! let them as wants to see the use of industry in this country come and see this here exhibition.”
“I warrant it’ll beat all nations hollow,” cried another.
And then the man laughed again, and so did all his fellow-workers, in a grim, empty-bellied chorus.
Mr. Sandboys grew somewhat alarmed at the man’s manner, and not finding much gratification in the contemplation of misery that he knew it was out of his power to mitigate, beckoned Inspector Wren away, and made the best of his road back to the house of his fellow-countryman.
Mrs. Sandboys had been anxiously awaiting his return for some time. During the absence of Cursty, she had half made up her mind to return to Hassness; and would have decided upon doing so immediately had it not been for the loss of the luggage.
Mr. Sandboys, however, now that he had wholly forgotten his late troubles, was in no way desirous of giving way to what appeared to be simply a small concatenation of adverse circumstances. Besides, now that he saw matters were taking a more propitious turn, he began to feel all his heroism returning; and having made up his mind to enjoy himself for a short period in the metropolis, why he would not allow it ever to be said that he was weak enough to be wrested from his purpose by a few mishaps.