It was too early for planting, and quite recently the supply of work from the Dale shoe-dealer had been scanty. People were at a loss to account for it, as the business had increased during the last two years, and many Upham men had been employed. Lately there had been a rumor as to the cause, but few had given it credence.
This afternoon, however, it was confirmed. Just before dark, a man, breathless, as if he had been running, joined the knot of loafers. “Well,” he said, panting, “I've found out why the shoes have been so scarce.”
The others stared at him, inquiringly.
“That—durned varmint, over to Dale, he's bought the old meetin'-house, an'—sent down to Boston fer—some machines, an'—he's goin' to have a factory. There's no more handwork to be done; that's the reason he's been holdin' it back.”
“How'd ye find it out? Who told ye?” asked one and another, scowling.
“Saw 'em, with my own eyes, unloadin' of the new machines at the railroad, an' saw the gang of men he's got to work 'em hangin' round his store. It's the railroad that's done it. It's made freight to Boston cheap enough so's he can make it pay. Robinson's goin' to give up shoes here. I had it straight. He don't want to compete with machine-work, and he don't want to put in machines himself. It was an unlucky day for Upham when that railroad went through Dale.”
“Curse the railroad, an' curse all the new ideas that take the bread out of poor men's mouths to give it to the rich,” said a bitter voice, and there was a hoarse amen from the crowd.
“I'd give ten years of my life if I could raise enough money, or, if a few of us together could raise enough money, to start a factory in Upham,” cried a man, fiercely, “then we'd see whether it was brains as good as other men's that were lacking!”
The man, who had not been there long, was quite young, not much older than Jerome, and had a keen, thin face, with nervous red spots coming and going in his cheeks, and fiery, deep-set eyes. He had the reputation of being very smart and energetic, and having considerable self-taught book-knowledge. He had a wife and two babies, and was, if the truth were told, staying away from home that day that his wife, who was a delicate, anxious young thing, might think he was at work. He had eaten nothing since morning.
“We shouldn't be no better off, if you put machines in your factory,” said a squat, elderly man, with a surly overhanging brow and a dull weight of jaw.