SHOWING THE HOOF.
Landfarn is a quiet place in South Yorkshire, and may be rather called a
large village than a town, with a semi-rural, semi-agricultural
population. The staple of its manufactures is, of course, wool; and
there are five or six flannel factories, either on the main stream, the
Farn, or nestled up in little side valleys upon its tributaries. The
country round is undulating and pretty. Frank’s first care upon arriving
was to look out for a house, and he was fortunate in finding a pretty,
furnished cottage, with a garden and paddock, upon a hill side at a
little more than half a mile from the town. It had been standing empty
for some time, and the rent was only thirty-five pounds a year. In a
week from their arrival, the Maynards were installed in their new home,
engaging the old woman who had previously been there as servant, and
taking a young girl from Landfarn as nurse for baby. Kate was charmed
with their new abode. It was so quiet and pretty, so enclosed in trees,
that it seemed quite shut out from the world. Indeed it would have been
better, as she afterwards acknowledged, had there been fewer trees, for
they kept the house damp, and in winter the paper had an awkward habit
of peeling off, and everything had to be taken out of boxes and drawers
once a fortnight for a thorough drying and airing. As for the garden, it
was so steep, that walking in it was a difficulty; and from a seat at
the upper end, one could almost look down the chimneys. But, indeed,
there was a really beautiful view from the garden. Below was the broad
valley, with the Farn winding backwards and forwards; the opposite hills
were covered to their very summits with trees; away to the right lay
Landfarn itself, with its light smoke curling up, and its church
watching over it. Altogether they were very fortunate, and were ready to
be pleased with everything. The only drawback to their house was, that
it was situated on the side of the town opposite to that from which the
new line was to start. Mr. Bingham had taken a large house upon the
other side of Landfarn, and came down with Mrs. Bingham and the girls a
day or two after Frank had got fairly established. A day or two after,
Frank went with him over the line, at portions of which men were already
at work fencing it in, and Mr. Bingham explained the plans to Frank, and
gave him a few ideas as to his new work.
“When do we begin, uncle?”
“In a week I hope to cut the first sod, Frank, and then we shall go on
in earnest. It will be a good plan for you to take four men, and to dig
holes five or six feet deep in the principal cuttings to see what nature
the ground is; we are sure to have plenty of offers from small
contractors, accustomed to this country, and we shall get a fair idea of
the value of the work.”
For the next few days Frank was very busy, and in high spirits. It
wanted only two days to the day fixed for the commencement of the work,
when Frank, on going down to the Binghams, found Mr. Bingham looking
very serious.
“Anything the matter, uncle?”
“Yes, indeed, Frank. A very serious affair indeed. It seems that the
South-west Yorkshire Railway got a Bill two years ago for a branch from
here to Leeds, and the first two miles run over exactly the same ground
that we do. Everyone thought they had dropped the line from want of
capital, but to-day they have got their men at work, fencing. Of course
I shall knock the fences down. It will be arranged, no doubt, but it
must cause a good deal of delay. I am going up to town at once to see
the directors.”
This was, indeed, serious news for Frank. Mr. Bingham had other works in
hand, and to him it was a matter of comparative indifference, but to
Frank it was of vital importance.
“This is indeed a bad business, uncle. Do you think the delay is likely
to last long?”
“I can’t tell you, Frank. You know now as much as I do. I will write to
you from London as soon as we get legal opinions on the subject.”
Frank went up to the cottage very disheartened. He told his wife what
had taken place.
“Oh, Frank, this is unfortunate. What had we better do, dear? Don’t you
think we had better go up to London again at once, and carry out our
former plan?”
“Well, Katie, at any rate we had better wait a short time until we hear
from Mr. Bingham. You see we have taken this house for six months
certain, and we have had all the expense of coming down here. It will
have made a large hole in our little capital, dear.”
“Yes, Frank; but it would be better to put up with that than to wait
here, spending more and doing nothing.”
“So it would, Katie; but at any rate we had better wait for another
fortnight; by that time we shall see whether it is going on or not.”
It was nearly a fortnight before an answer came from Mr. Bingham, and it
was highly satisfactory. Counsel were of opinion that the other party
had not a leg to stand upon. That they ought to have opposed when the
Bill was before the House; and that the last Act overrode the former
one. An early day was named for hearing the case, and there was no doubt
that the work would begin immediately after.
Both Frank and Kate agreed that there was nothing for it but to wait. In
the meantime they had got to know the few gentry of the place. Mr.
Larpent, who lived in the great house down on the hill-side below their
cottage, and who owned some mines at a short distance from Landfarn. Mr.
Larpent was a shrewd practical man, and his wife was very friendly with
Mrs. Frank; as for Fanny Larpent, their daughter, she and Kate soon
became as intimate as sisters; and Frank laughed and said, “If he had
not married Katie, he should certainly have fallen in love with Fanny
Larpent.”
The doctor, too, soon became a great ally of Frank’s. A short, stout,
hearty man, with a fund of good sense and fun. There were a few other
families in the place itself or in its immediate neighbourhood, the
usual _entourage_ of all small country towns. The clergyman, the lawyer,
a half-pay officer or two, a few small landed proprietors, and three or
four of the owners of the principal woollen factories. Some of these
called upon the Maynards very shortly after their arrival, and most of
the others, influenced by the favourable reports of the new comers, soon
followed their example. Landfarn rather prided itself upon being a
sociable place, and there were many quiet tea drinkings, and whist
parties, and musical evenings. Altogether Frank and his wife liked the
place very much. In the meantime, the South-west Yorkshire began work
upon their part of the line beyond the disputed point, and Frank, making
friends with the inspector, passed much of his time with him, watching
the works, and learning his new business. Upon this line Evan went to
work, and Frank saw but little of him now, for it was too far off to
return at night to work. Weeks passed, the news from London was always
favourable; Mr. Bingham wrote that the work must begin before long. This
delay was very wearying to both Kate and Frank—more, perhaps, to her
than to him, for Frank was essentially an easy going man, while Kate was
as decidedly an impetuous woman. Sometimes Mr. Bingham came down,
sometimes Fred, but the visits of the former decreased in number, while
those of his son became more frequent. Constantly Frank was tempted to
give it up, and as often some unusually cheering piece of news would
come, and they would decide that it would be madness after waiting so
long to throw it up, and to lose the benefit of all these months of
delay, and of all the money that they had spent. Six months passed over
thus—six weary anxious months—and then arrived the welcome news that
both parties had agreed upon a compromise, and that work was certain to
begin in another month at the latest. With this joyful intelligence,
however, came the news that the contract had changed hands, and that
Fred Bingham was to be the contractor in place of his father. Frank was
very much vexed at this change. He had always liked his uncle, and had
perfect faith in his good intentions towards him. Fred he objected to
work under, as being of his own age; besides, stoutly as he had always
supported him, he had doubts he could not entirely suppress of his good
faith, besides which Fred had been decidedly cool during his visits to
Landfarn. However, it was too late to draw back now. The hundred and
fifty pounds which Frank had brought down with him were gone now,
scarcely a pound remained, and there was nothing to do for it but to
make the best of matters. At last the news came that the compromise was
arranged, that the South-west Yorkshire was to make the disputed piece
of work, and that both companies were to have the right of using it.
Fred Bingham was to come down with his wife at the end of the week, and
work was to begin at once from the point beyond the junction. This time
there were no more delays; and upon the day appointed, Fred Bingham came
down and took possession. The same evening, Frank went down to see him.
Fred was in his smoking-room.
“Well, Fred,” Frank began, “I congratulate you as well as myself, that
all this weary delay is over at last. It has been a terrible trial.”
“Yes,” Fred said coolly, “it has been a nuisance.”
“I suppose we are to begin at once, Fred?”
“Yes,” Fred Bingham answered. “On Monday. I have got several offers for
the cuttings.”
“But, Fred, it was arranged between your father and myself that I was to
have all the earthwork.”
“Ah,” Fred said, “very likely. But the old man has nothing to do with it
now, and I am not bound by any foolish arrangements he may have made.”
Frank grew very white, but he controlled himself. “And do you mean to
say, Fred, putting aside the fact of our being cousins, that after my
coming down here at your father’s wish, after being here all these
months, receiving not a penny,—while your clerks and men down here have
been paid just as usual—until every penny I have in the world is gone—do
you mean to say you are going to throw me over now?”
“I am not going to throw you over, as you call it,” Fred said; “if you
are ready to do the work on the same terms as other people, you can have
it. These are the offers I have had.” And he pushed some letters across
to Frank. They were illiterate, badly spelt epistles, evidently from
working men.
“The work cannot possibly be done on the terms, Fred,” Frank said when
he had glanced through them. “The ground is tough blue clay with stones,
just the same that they have got on the other line. In many cases you
must use powder to it. These men are mere wandering navvies. They will
make money as long as they are merely at work on the easy surface stuff,
and then when they find it doesn’t pay will go off without paying their
men. I will take the work on the terms which any responsible person is
willing to tender for it at.”
“Yes,” Fred Bingham said, “but the responsible person would find money,
and not call upon me the first Saturday for the men’s pay. You tell me
yourself you have no money.”
For a moment the impulse upon Frank Maynard to seize his cousin by the
throat and to thrash him to within an inch of his life almost
over-powered him. But the thought of his wife sitting at home, of the
bills he already owed in the town, of the house on his hands for another
quarter, and that he was actually without a penny, rushed upon him, and
with a tremendous effort he kept down his passion.
Fred continued. “In some respects I would rather keep the work in my own
hands. Now what I think of doing is this. I will take the highest of
these estimates, sixpence a yard for clay, and a shilling for rock. Now
you shall work the men just as if they were your own. I shall pay them.
If there is any profit at the end, that is if we have done the work
under this price, we will divide it between us, and in the meantime you
shall draw two pounds a week, to be charged of course against the work.
What do you say to that?” Fred spoke cheerfully as if he were making a
most liberal offer.
“I am perfectly certain, Fred, that the work cannot be done at the
price. Still, if those are your only terms, I must accept them. I have
no choice.”
“And mind, Frank, work is to be work. I shall expect you to do just the
same as any other inspector would do. To be on the work before the men
begin at six in the morning, and to be there till they knock off at
night.”
Again Frank had a very hard struggle with himself, his teeth were set
hard, and the veins on his forehead stood out like cords. But he only
said, “Of course I shall do my work like other people. Good night.”
Fred Bingham looked after him for some time with his smile upon his
lips. “I’ll make you smart before I’ve done with you, my fine fellow.”
And then he went out into the night air.
“Oh, Katie,” Frank said to himself as he shut the door, “you little know
what I have stood to-night for your sake. My God, my God.! what is to
become of us? To think that I should have been such a gross idiot as to
believe all these years in this infernal scoundrel. What have I done to
make him hate me like this? God knows I have always taken his part since
he was a boy, have quarrelled for him, have supported him against
Prescott and Alice and Kate and all, and now at last, when he knows I am
helplessly in his power, bound hand and foot, he treats me as if—Good
Heavens! I shall go mad. Oh, if I could only get out of this, only carry
out our old plan. But there, it is too late now. At any rate I must stop
for a time; if the worst comes to the worst, Katie and I must put our
pride in our pockets, and ask the Drakes to lend us enough to take us
abroad.”
“Frank, you are dreadfully pale,” Kate said anxiously, when he came in.
“I knocked against the gate in the dark,” Frank said, deceiving his wife
for the first time, “and shook myself a bit. I shall be all right
presently.”
“Where did you hurt yourself, Frank?”
“In the side, but it is no odds, it was the shock more than anything.
The gate was half open, and I ran against the end. It’s really nothing,
Katie.”
“Well, Frank, and is it all right? Is the work to begin at last?”
“Yes, darling; thank God, it begins on Monday.”
“And there is no hitch? nothing disagreeable with Fred?”
“No, Kate; we have mutually agreed as to the terms of the contract. I am
to do it at so much a yard, and as each cutting is done, I am to be paid
the profit, and in the meantime I am to draw two pounds a week.”
“Two pounds! that seems very little, Frank?”
“Well, it can hardly be termed wealth, Katie, but our expenses here are
very small, and I dare say we shall manage well enough. Besides, as each
cutting is finished, there will be the profit.”
“It is only a pound a week to live on, Frank. The rent and Hannah and
nurse come to the other pound.”
“Well, we must try, Katie, and if we can’t make it do, I must ask Fred
to let me draw a little more. I did not wish to press matters the first
time, you see. He will soon see how useful I shall be, and then no doubt
there will be no difficulty about arranging to draw more each week. At
any rate, thank God, Katie, I am going to earn something at last.”
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