Its courage was in nothing more evident than in the very stringent liquor law which was speedily passed, and which attacked drunkenness as a deadly disease, and punished those who had been accessories. It also insisted that for a third offence a drunkard could be taken to a Home for Inebriates, and kept there until cured.
Mr. Whitwell was able to meet his new responsibilities. Darentdale was so near to London, and the rules of the latest House of Commons were so sensible, that a man was not compelled to spend all the nights in talking or listening to the talk of others; it was therefore possible for the Member for Scourby to attend to his duties in Westminster, and yet not altogether neglect those of his own farm and home. Tom always met her father on Friday night, and his two leisure days were happy ones for her as for the rest of his family. Quiet, self-effacing Mrs. Whitwell could not bring herself to be glad that her husband was a Member of Parliament, but her daughters were unfeignedly so; and it was a pleasant sight to see them hovering around him, and questioning him as to his votes and general conduct in the House. He electrified them one day with news that they did not expect.
“Have you read to-day’s paper?” he asked. “Did you see the account of my speech?”
“Your speech? Have you been speaking in the House?”
“Yes; I have, indeed, and my speech was very well received, too. A man has not much chance to be eloquent now, you know. I had not a new Bill to bring in, or, of course, I should have been allowed to speak for half an hour; it is not much one can say in ten minutes, but I said all there was time to say as forcibly as possible. Some day I mean to introduce the subject of these Retreats for Girls, and then what a chance I shall have to make my powers of elocution known!”
“You will be quite carried away by your own eloquence, dear; but that will not matter if no one else is,” said Tom, soothingly, moving a little from her father lest he should punish her for that saucy remark.
“What did you talk about yesterday?” asked Mrs. Whitwell.
“The railways. There are men who think they should all belong to the State. I say they do, since any man may get shares in them, and since they are managed by a part of the nation for the nation’s good. A railway that does not serve the public cannot exist, you know; and the companies are not as rich as they were, now that rates and fares are lower; but if they were, I have no objection if they do honestly what they undertake to do.”
“You are an old Tory, father, whether they call you so or not. You must know that the railway companies exist for the sole purpose of making themselves rich. They are nothing but firms in business. All they do for the people they do because they are compelled, in order to make the thing pay.”
“Very well. We are to judge by actions, since we cannot understand motives. If the companies pay fair wages to their men, and keep faith with the public, we have no right whatever to interfere with them. Besides which, we have our hands too full of far more important things than trying to get money out of the railway business; and that is what I said yesterday. We do not exist for the purpose of interfering with any business that is not injurious to the people.”