Then Mrs Slee would tighten up her lips, look as if she would like to
box her lord's ears, and end sometimes by doing it, Sim appealing to
"Moother" for mercy till she went upstairs, when Sim would get up from
the floor, where he had thrown himself, and rub his ears till they
ceased tingling, and end by winking to himself and performing the
strange movements alluded to in the previous chapter.
At these times, in spite of the very liberal quantity of ale indulged in
at his own and other people's expense, Sim's head would be perfectly
clear; and knowing, from old experience, that as soon as he had lain
down and gone fast asleep, Mrs Slee would get up and empty his pockets,
he would proceed to conceal his money. Half-crowns were placed up the
chimney, a half-sovereign on the ledge over a door, shillings in corners
not likely to be swept, under chimney ornaments, and on the tops of
picture frames, his great hoard at this time being under an old scrubby
geranium, growing--or rather existing, for it had long ceased to grow--
in a pot in the window--a favourite plant of Mrs Slee's, as she had
kept it through the winter for years. So matted together were its
roots, that if the stem were taken in the hand the whole of the earth
came out quite clean in its basket of fibres, and beneath this, in the
bottom of the pot, Sim had placed five golden sovereigns, nicely
arranged round the hole, on the night after the riot, the geranium being
replaced, and all looking as before.
The next morning Mrs Slee was up a long while the first, as usual, and
as was her custom when Sim had been bad over night, she made a tour of
the place, finding and gleaning up coins of various value, wondering the
while where Sim obtained the money that she transferred to her ample
pocket, hidden by drapery and folds at a great depth from the surface.
Just as she was finishing, she caught sight of the pot, and saw that it
had been removed over night, for the water that had drained into the
earthen saucer had, when the pot was moved, dripped on the floor.
A grim smile overspread her countenance as she lifted pot and saucer
together, and looked beneath, to see nothing. Even the pot was lifted
from the saucer, and with like result, when, replacing it, the wet pot
slipped, and Mrs Slee caught at the stem of the plant, with the result
that she held geranium in one hand, pot in the other, and saw the five
glittering gold pieces at the bottom.
She clutched them eagerly, and hid them away, replaced the pot, and then
stood thinking.
"Where does he get his money?" she said, looking grimly. "I'll speak to
parson."
Mrs Slee had been gone a couple of hours before Sim descended to
partake of the breakfast placed ready for him, all the while battling
with his infirmity.
It was one that always troubled him after a night's excess, for, though
Sim's head was clear enough over night when he hid his money, the
over-excited brain refused to act next morning, and a thick veil was
drawn between the eve and the morrow. There was always the dim
recollection of having hidden his money, but that was all; and in this
case as in others, pot, door-ledge, pictures, all had passed away from
his memory, and there was a blank in answer to his oft-repeated
question--"Where did I put that money?" It was a blessing in disguise
for Sim, though he did not know it. But for this, and his wife's
tenacious grasp of all she found, none of which went directly back to
Sim, he would have been without a roof to cover his head years before,
and many a pound that he accredited himself with having spent in gills
of ale and standing treat had really gone into his wife's pocket.
"Well, this wean't do," he said at last; "money's gone, and I shall get
no more out o' Dicky Glaire."
"He'll be pretty sick o' his lock-out by this time," said Sim, as he
laced his boots. "That was a fine plan wi' them bands. It's kep the
strike on, and it's easier than wucking your fingers to the bone.
Wonder how long they'll keep it oop. Well, here goes."
He went out, and had not gone far before he met the vicar, who stopped
to speak to him; but Sim, to use his own words, "coot him dead," making
his way right off through the town, where he stopped for a bit of
bombastic "blather," as his associates called it, on the success of
their attack on Richard.
"He had the finest leathering he ever had in his life," said Sim.
"And what good's it going to do?" said one of the men, in a grumbling
tone.
"What good? Open thee eyes, mun, and see for your sen. Good? It'll
bring him to his senses, and he'll come round and ask on his knees for
us to go to work, and then we'll mak' our own terms."
"And if he wean't come round," said another, "what then?"
Sim stooped to the man's ear, and whispered something.
"Eh, mun, but we wouldn't do that, would we?"
"Howd thee tongue," said Sim. "Wait and see. I've got a friend coming
down to-day as can settle all these things. I'm going to meet him at
the station, and he's going to stay here till things is settled."
"And who's going to keep un?" said another man. "I can't keep mysen."
"All on you, o' course," said Sim. "You keep a good heart, lad, and all
will be as raight as raight."
"But that would be coming it strange and strong, man," said the first
speaker.
"Strong diseases want strong doses, lad," said Sim, winking. "But don't
you wherrit yoursen. There's them in the Brotherhood as is looking
after your interests, and we shall all come off wi' flying colours."
"I dessay we shall," said the man, in a discontented tone; "but I want
to hear them theer furnaces a-roaring agen, and the firemen's shovels
rattling in the coals, and the brass a-chinking in the box o' pay
nights. Dal the strike, I say."
"But it aint a strike now," said Sim, didactically. "Don't you see,
it's a lock-out."
"It's all the same," said another, sulkily. "Theer aint no brass to
tak', and the missus and the bairns is pined to dead wi' hunger, and
starved to dead for want of a bit o' fire."
"But you get the society money," said Sim, indignantly.
"Yah! what's that to a man in full fettle! Just pays for bread, and you
can't buy a decent weigh o' meat for fear o' waring it all at once."
"Yes," said another; "it's like club money when a man's sick and can't
wuck."
"Raight enew, then," said another; "bud a man wants wuck as well as
something to yeat. It's strange, coarse weather for us as far as
yeating and drinking goes. Why, my bairns heven't hed a bit of bootther
sin' the strike begun."
"A man need be as tiff as a band to stand it all," said another.
"Ay, tough as a bont whong," said another.
"Well, I shall be a very poor creature," said another, "if this here's
going to last. I'm 'bout pined to dead now."
"I shall flit and get wuck somewheer else."
"Iver get berry pie for dinner now, Sim Slee?" said another, alluding to
a favourite luxury of Sim's, who was accredited with having stolen a
neighbour's gooseberries to make the famous berry pie.
Here there was a bit of a laugh, a good sign, for the men seemed ripe
for mischief.
"His missus gives him tongue for breakfast ivery morning," said another.
"Sim, come home wi' uz and hev a bit o' custard," said another, and
there was a general laugh from the gaunt-looking men.
"Nice bit o' stuffed chine at my place, Sim," said another; and one
after the other, men, whose fare had been bread and potatoes for many
days, gave their great orator invitations to partake of the popular
delicacies of the place.
"Tellee what," said big Harry, coming up, "I mean to have somebody's
thack off if this game arn't soon over."
"I hadn't going to say much," said Sim, who had been standing with
folded arms, looking contemptuously at the crowd around; "but, I say
this--if I was to go on as you do I'd hate mysen. Wheer's your
paytriotism? Wheer's your risings against tyranny? Wheer's your
British wucking man rising like a lion in his might?"
"Yes," said a shrill female voice from a window, "but your British lion
wucking man wants his dinner, don't he?"
There was a roar of laughter at this. "Yah!" said Sim, contemptuously.
"Why do I wuck mysen to death for you all, to be badgered for it?"
"I don't know," said the same voice from the window, sounding more
shrill than ever, "but I know this, Sim Slee, that my bairns is all
pining, while their father's doing nowt but walk about wi' his hands in
his pockets, and if things don't soon change, some o' them as got up
this strike 'll be put oonder the poomp, and if the men don't do it uz
women will."
Sim folded his arms, looked round contemptuously as there rose another
shout of laughter, and stalked off to walk to the station and meet the
deputation, as he called the man he had invited to come down.
Volume 2, Chapter XIX.