Albert Herring had the reputation of being a hard master, and it was well deserved. Hard work, long hours, small pay, and that given grudgingly, and withheld on trivial pretences—these were the practices which gained for him the hatred of the labouring population. Yet with singular inconsistency they were always willing to work for him. This is a phenomenon commonly to be observed—the worst of masters can always command plenty of men.
With Jenkins it was a matter of necessity. If he could not get work he must starve or go into the union—dreaded almost as much as the prison. Albert kept him several days after his application—he would see about it—he was in no hurry. He laid much stress upon the gardener’s age, though the other assured him that willingness would compensate for that Jenkins had been a gardener, not a labourer. It was doubtful if he would understand his duties if he was put on to cut a hedge.
“Oh, yes!” said the old man, eagerly; “I can use an axe or a bill-hook.”
“Ay, ay,” said Albert, brutally. “Thee can use a bill-hook, so I’ve heard say.”
Jenkins bowed his head, and his lip quivered.
The upshot was that he was put on at nine shillings per week—one shilling to be deducted for rent of a small cottage.
Chapter Eleven.
This trial of poor Jenkins took up Aymer’s time, so that he had no leisure for his new book, which had to be laid aside; and when he was in hopes of returning to it, another incident again interrupted him. The work he had to do was very little after all; it was not the amount, but the character of it, that he disliked.
Yet, notwithstanding his hatred of the law, he could not help imbibing some small smattering which afterwards proved extremely serviceable. The change from World’s End was also beneficial in another manner—it opened his eyes to much that he had never suspected. If anything, his inclination hitherto would have been to have taken most people pretty much at their word. This may sound childish to the young men of the period, who—in the habit of frequenting billiard saloons, horse-races, card parties, hotels, and all places where people congregate—naturally pick up a good deal of knowledge of the world sufficient to astonish their parents, at all events.