“Better wages, better homes, more leisure, better amusements, better education,” he replied, promptly; “every Christian employer the friend and brother of his own people; every church the centre of a religious activity which leaves none near it untouched by brotherly love. And charity begins at home, and everybody is to look after his own neighbour.”
The little company knew that he was himself doing that which he urged them to do, and this gave him the greater power and influence.
The meeting was a very practical one. The farmers declared that they would slightly increase the wages of their men, and follow Dallington’s plan. Each cottager should have a strip of land for a garden, and every one who was willing to repair his own house during the winter should have the materials given him. They knew that Dallington had set before him the task of winning back the whole of his inheritance, but he would not do it at the expense of the comfort and well-being of his men. Mr. Whitwell was not so rich as he was thought to be, but a few pounds could be spared which, paid in shillings, would make all the difference to the families of some of his men. The only thing which had hitherto prevented him from paying more in some cases was his desire not to appear more generous than his neighbours.
It was agreed at the meeting that there should be an invitation sent to all the better-class people in the village to come to the vicarage for consultation. After that, “all who professed and called themselves Christians” were invited to the same place, the vicarage being selected instead of the schoolroom of the Baptist Chapel, out of deference to the bigotry of a few Church people.
And so it was decided that when November came a wonderful thing should happen. But in the meantime the summer lingered, and John Dallington was in love with it. One fine morning he said, “I am amazed at the manner in which English people libel their own climate. Never were such perfect summer days as these; nor is there, in any part of the world, grander harvest scenery.” As he spoke his eyes looked lovingly over the prospect before him, which was, indeed, a pleasant one. The remark was made to two of his cousins, Edith and Tom, who had ridden over to Darentdale with a message from their father, and having delivered it to the young farmer, whom they found where he ought to have been, among his fields, were lingering by his side. John’s hand was on the neck of the horse on which his youngest cousin sat, and she glanced at him with a smile half merry and half sad as he spoke.
“Yes, I am glad that for once the season is behaving properly,” she said. “It does not often, and it is well that you should not find everything disappointing. All your hay is safely in, I see; so is ours, and father is better tempered than ever in consequence. But don’t be too sanguine. Remember the proverb, ‘Blessed is he that expecteth nothing, for he shall not be disappointed.’ I should be sorry to suggest evil; but there are such things, even in this magnificent English climate, as storms of wind and rain, and even hail, that spoil the crops of the most hopeful men.”
“But they will surely respect John’s crops,” said Edith, “especially after he has so complimented the weather. I am glad you are courageous enough to grow corn at all, for it will scarcely pay you to compete with the foreign wheat in the market. England will soon cease to be a corn-growing country.”
“Never mind; let England grow men,” said Dallington, “and all the other lands grow corn for them to eat. You know the English-speaking race is destined to dominate the world.”
“Say the worlds, while you are about it, John. You are a true Englishman in conceit of your country. I think the dominant race might be improved,” remarked Tom.
“So do I; but we are getting on all the same. The real aristocracy—that of character—is realising its power a little, and before you are many years older, Tom, you will see a change.”