The Story of Porcelain

by Sara Ware Bassett

"It should be so," was Mr. Croyden's instant reply. "A factory that turns out a completed product is like a watch. You know that unless every wheel of the watch turns; unless every minute rivet and screw is in its place and doing its part we get no perfect result. It is just as important a service to be a wee screw in that organism as to be something larger and more conspicuous. So it is with each workman in a factory. He performs his part—often, alas, a small and dull one too, I am afraid; but viewed from the standpoint of the completed product that man with his humdrum task is as worthy our respect as is any other member of the working staff. Without somebody to do precisely what he is doing we should get no satisfactory result.

"It is just team-work!" put in Theo.

"That's it—team-work; team-work and nothing else. And just as in athletics some men better adapted for batting, catching, running, and kicking are singled out for the posts of fielder, shortstop, or tackle but contribute equally to the game, so it is with the men in a factory. Some day the world is going to accept that creed and pay to every human being a living wage; not, perhaps, because what he is doing is skilled or difficult; but because it is indispensable and we cannot do without that particular rung in the labor ladder. Some one must fill that post, and he who does it should be respected and compensated because he is necessary to civilization and to our national prosperity."

Mr. Croyden caught his breath and then laughed in confusion.

"The idea of my giving you a lecture on the labor question, Theo," he said flushing. "I always get hot on the matter, for it is one of my hobbies. Next time when you hear me getting started just slow me down and let me cool off. You see it is pretty close to my heart, because I have been attempting to work out some of its difficult phases here in my own mills. I am trying to pay to each of my men enough so he can live decently and contentedly. It does not seem fair to pay them all alike, since some are skilful enough to do more work, and work that is more difficult than others. But each should be able to live comfortably on what he earns. That is my idea of fairness toward the working man; and that is the scheme that I am trying to carry out here."

The car stopped abruptly before a great doorway and Mr. Croyden got out.

"Having heard my views you are now to have a chance to see how imperfectly my dreams have been realized," he said smiling. "I am far from satisfied with present conditions in my factory. But every day we are conscientiously trying to make things better, and some day I hope we shall reach our goal."

Theo followed him into the hall.

It was interesting to notice that as the man passed along he exchanged a word or two with every employee he met, calling many of them by name, and in some cases adding a question concerning the wife or baby at home. That the men liked their employer there could be no question. His manner toward them was one of unaffected interest and friendliness, and was entirely free from patronage or condescension. His private office, too, was of the simplest type, being neatly but not lavishly furnished. Evidently what was good enough for his men was good enough for him. There were, however, in the two great windows several boxes of blossoming plants which made the room fragrant.

"I am very fond of flowers, Theo," explained the mill-owner after he had greeted his office force and introduced his guest. "It is my weak spot—my one big extravagance. This room has just the exposure for plants and we keep the boxes filled the year round. The boys have nicknamed the place the conservatory and the jest has stuck until nobody thinks of calling the place anything else. If you were to ask a man to come to the office he would have to scratch his head and think; but if you told him he was wanted in the conservatory he would land here double quick. Isn't that so?" concluded Mr. Croyden, turning to the others.