course I do,” said Julius. “An altar and four walls and chairs are all that ought to be sought for. Little good can be done to people’s souls while their bodies are in the feverish discomfort of foul air and water. This is an opportunity not to be wasted, while all the houses are down, town-hall and all.”
“The very thing I told Briggs and the others this morning,” said Raymond; “but I could not get a hearing; they said there never had been any illness worth mentioning, and in fact scouted the whole matter, as people always do.”
“Yes, they take it as a personal insult when you mention the odorous—or odious, savours sweet,” said Julius. “I heard a good deal of that when we had the spell of cholera at St. Awdry’s.”
“I shall work on at it, and I trust to get it done in time,” said Raymond; “but it will not be at once. The subject is too new to them, and the irritation it produces must subside before they will hear reason. Besides, the first thing is to employ and feed these paper-makers.”
“Of course.”
“That will pretty well absorb this first meeting. The ladies will manage that, I think; and when this is provided for, I will try what I can do at the committee; but there is no good in bringing it forward at this great public affair, when every ass can put in his word. Everything depends on whom they choose for the new mayor. If Whitlock comes in, there is some chance of sense and reason being heard. Good night.”
As Raymond said, the more immediate object of the meeting fixed for the ensuing day, was to provide for the employment of the numerous women thrown out of employment by the destruction of the paper-mills. A subscription was in hand, but not adequate to the need; and moreover, it was far more expedient to let them maintain themselves.
How this was to be done was the question. Cecil told her husband that at Dunstone they made the women knit stockings; and he replied by recommending the suppression of Dunstone. How strange it was that what she had been used to consider as the source of honour should be here held in what seemed to her disesteem!
Lady Tyrrell’s ponies were tinkling up to the door of the hotel where the meeting was to be held, and her gracious smile recalled Cecil’s good-humour; Raymond saw them to their seats, and then had to go and take the chair himself on the platform—first, however, introducing his wife to such of the ladies present as he recollected.
She thought he wanted her to sit between melancholy white faced Mrs. Fuller and a bony spinster in a poke-bonnet whom he called Miss Slater; but Cecil, concluding that this last could have no vote, and that the Vicarage was secure, felt free to indulge herself by getting back to Lady Tyrrell, who had scarcely welcomed her before exclaiming, “Mrs. Duncombe, I did not know you were returned.”
“I came back on the first news of your flare-up,” said the newcomer. “I only came down this morning. I would not have missed this meeting for anything. It is a true woman’s question. A fair muster, I see,” looking round with her eye-glass, and bowing to several on the platform, especially to Raymond, who returned the bow rather stiffly.
“Ah! let me introduce you,” said Lady Tyrrell. “Mrs. Raymond Charnock Poynsett.”
“I am very glad to see you embarked in the cause,” said the lady, frankly holding out her hand. “May we often meet in the same manner, though I honestly tell you I’m not of your party; I should go dead against your husband if we only had a chance.”
“Come, you need not be so aggressive,” laughed Lady Tyrrell; “you haven’t a vote yet. You are frightening Mrs. Poynsett.” It was true. Even Cecil Charnock was born too late to be one of the young ladies who, in the first decades of the reformed Parliament, used to look on a Liberal as a lusus naturæ, whom they hardly believed to be a gentleman. But a lady who would openly accost the Member’s bride with a protest against his politics, was a being beyond her experience, and the contemplation fairly distracted her from her husband’s oratory.
She would have taken Miss Slater for the strong-minded female far rather than this small slim person, with the complexion going with the yellower species of red hair and chignon, not unlike a gold-pheasant’s, while the thin aquiline nose made Cecil think of Queen Elizabeth. The dress was a tight-fitting black silk, with a gorgeous many-coloured gold-embroidered oriental mantle thrown loosely over it, and a Tyrolean hat, about as large as the pheasant’s comb, tipped over her forehead, with cords and tassels of gold; and she made little restless movements and whispered remarks during the speeches.
There was to be a rate to renew the town-hall. The rebuilding of the paper-mills and dwelling-houses was fairly covered by the insurance; but the Vicar, in his diffident apologetic voice, stated that the church had been insufficiently insured, and moreover, that many more sittings were needed than the former building had contained. He then read the list of subscriptions already promised, expressed hopes of more coming in, invited ladies to take collecting cards, and added that he was happy to announce that the ladies of the congregation had come forward with all the beneficence of their sex, and raised a sum to supply a new set of robes.
Here the chairman glanced at his wife, but she was absorbed in watching Mrs. Duncombe’s restless hands; and the look was intercepted by Lady Tyrrell’s eyes, which flashed back sympathetic amusement, with just such a glance as used to pass between them in old times; but the effect was to make the Member’s face grave and impassive, and his eyes fix on the papers before him.
The next moment Cecil was ardently gazing at Mr. Fuller as he proceeded to his hopes of the bazaar to be held under the most distinguished patronage, and of which he spoke as if it were the subject of anticipations as sanguine as any the poor man could ever appear to indulge in. And there was, in fact, the greatest stamping and cheering there had yet been, perhaps in compliment to the M.P.’s young bride—at least, so Lady Tyrrell whispered, adding that everybody was trying to see her.
Then Mr. Charnock Poynsett himself took up the exposition of the third branch of the subject, the support of the poor families thrown out of work at the beginning of winter. There could be no employment at the paper-mills till they were repaired; and after the heavy losses, they could not attempt to keep their people together by any payment. It had been suggested that the readiest way of meeting the difficulty, would be to employ the subscriptions already promised in laying in a stock of material to be made up into garments, and then dispose of them out to the women at their homes; and appointing a day once a week when the work should be received, the pay given, and fresh material supplied, by a party of volunteer ladies.
This was, in fact, what he had been instructed to propose by the kindly souls who ordinarily formed the St. Nicholas bureau de charité, who had instructed him to be their mouthpiece. There was due applause as the mayor seconded his resolution; but in the midst a clear, rather high-pitched voice rose up close to Cecil, saying, “Mr. Chairman, allow me to ask what sale is anticipated for these garments?”
“I am told that there is a demand for them among the poor themselves,” said Raymond, judiciously concealing how much he was taken aback by this female interference.
“Allow me to differ. A permanent work society numbering a few women otherwise unemployed may find a sufficient sale in the neighbourhood under the patronage of charitable ladies; but when you throw in ninety-five or one hundred pair of hands depending on their work for their livelihood, the supply must necessarily soon go beyond any demand, even fictitious. It will not do to think of these women like fancy knitters or embroiderers whose work is skilled. Most of them can hardly mend their own clothes, and the utmost that can be expected of them is the roughest slop work.”
“Do you wish any expedient to be proposed?” asked the chairman, in a sort of aside.
“Yes, I have one. I spent yesterday in collecting information.”
“Will Captain Duncombe move it?” suggested Raymond.
“Oh no! he is not here. No, it is no use to instruct anybody; I will do it myself, if you please.”
And before the astonished eyes of the meeting, the gold-pheasant hopped