THE FASCINATION OF INDUSTRY.
"Sit down, lad, and rest. It will not be long before noon, and then I
will send for your sister to come here."
"Thank you. Do you think he will stay long, this time?"
"'Bony'? It's just as the fit takes him. There's no accounting for his
whims, poor unbalanced fellow. In some respects he is clever and
remarkably clean-handed. In fixing parts of the machinery, I would
rather have his help than that of most professionals, he is so careful
about the minutest details. Yet, of course, it would be out of the
question to rely upon him. There's another thing. He's a most excellent
nurse. For days at a time, when there's been sickness in the mill
village, he has devoted himself faithfully to whoever seemed to take his
fancy. His big, ungainly hand has a truly wonderful power of soothing.
When I had rheumatic fever, he was the only person I could endure to
have in the room with me. His step was lighter even than that of my
wife, and I really believe I should have died but for his care."
The superintendent was talking, simply to entertain and divert his
visitor from the lad's own present annoyance, but he little knew how
full of import his casual remarks were to his hearer.
"Do you mean that he is magnetic? that there is something in the claim
he makes of being a 'healer'?"
"Quite as much as in the claim of any such person. There are, of course,
some human beings so constituted that they can influence for good the
physical conditions of other people. I am very sorry that his present
whim has seized him. I would like the burro, and you would like the
price of him. Well, all in good time. Meanwhile, if I can help you,
please tell me."
"There was only one way in which you could, so far as I know. That was
by buying my pet. I--I don't suppose," Hallam continued, with hesitancy,
"that there is anything such a--a useless fellow as I could do to earn
money here?"
"I am not so sure about that. What sort of work would you like?"
"Any sort."
Mr. Metcalf went into another room and presently returned with some
oblong pieces of cardboard. These had a checked surface, and upon these
checks were painted or stained partial patterns, designs for the carpets
woven in the mills.
"Your father is an artist. Have you learned anything about his work, or
of coloring?"
"Something, of course, though very little. I would not be an artist."
"Indeed? But there are artisans whose work is simple, mechanical, and
reasonably lucrative. Our designers, for instance, make an excellent
living. Do you see these numbers at the sides of the patterns?"
"Yes."
"They are for the guidance of the weavers. The threads of the carpets
are numbered, and these numbers correspond. Therefore, the weaver can
make his carpet from his pattern with mathematical exactness. We require
many such copies of the original design. If you would like to try this
sort of work, I will give you a temporary job. The boy who usually does
it is ailing, and I have allowed him a vacation. The wages are small, no
more than Amy earns, but the work isn't difficult, and is the only thing
I have now, suitable for you."
Incidentally the gentleman's eyes turned toward Hallam's crutches
leaning against the arm of the chair where he sat; but instead of
feeling humiliated by the glance, as the sensitive cripple often did,
this casual one fired his heart with a new ambition. He recalled the
words of the surgeon, and was no longer angry with them.
"I will be a man in spite of it all," flashed through his brain. Aloud
he said:--
"I will be very glad to try the work."
"Very well. When can you begin?"
"Now."
Mr. Metcalf smiled.
"All right. A lad so prompt is the lad for me. But I had imagined
another sort of fellow,--not so energetic, indeed."
"I've not been worth much. I've been lazy and selfish; but I mean to
turn over a new leaf. I'll try to be useful, and if I fail--I fail."
"But you'll not fail. God never sent anybody into this world for whom He
did not provide a place, a duty. You will succeed. You may even get to
'the top,' that roomy plane where there are so few competitors. I want
you to count me your friend. I, too, am a self-made man. There are few
obstacles one cannot conquer, given good health and determination."
Then once more the employer's gaze rested upon the crutches, and his
heart misgave him that he had roused ambitions which could not be
realized. The poor cripple was handicapped from the start by his
infirmity.
Hallam again saw the expression of the other's face, and again it nerved
him to a firmer will.
"Even that shall not hinder, sir; and now if you will explain to me the
work, I'll make a try at it right away."
Mr. Metcalf placed the designs upon a sloping table, at one side the
office, and Hallam took the chair before it, as requested. Then the
superintendent went over the system of numbering the designs, and
illustrated briefly.
"Now you try. I'll watch. Go on as if I were not here. If I do not
speak, consider that you are working correctly."
Hallam's intelligence was of a fine order, and he had always been a keen
observer. Before Mr. Metcalf had finished his explanations the lad had
grasped the whole idea of the work, and he took up the pen the gentleman
laid down with the confidence of one who understood exactly what he had
to do.
"'Knowledge is power,' there is no truer saying," remarked the teacher,
watching the tyro's eager efforts. "It's as easy as A B C to you,
apparently."
"It seems very simple. I think I would enjoy it better, though, if I
could see the application."
"How the patterns are used?"
"Yes."
"Come this way."
Which was not by the shorter one of the stairway on the cliff, up which
Fayette had once forced the reluctant Pepita, but around by the sloping
wagon track and into the lower rooms of the great building. Already the
lad knew most of these by the descriptions his sister had given him, but
no description could equal the facts. As she had done, so he experienced
that thrill of excitement, as he realized the mighty, throbbing life all
around him, of which the wonderful machinery and the human hands and
brains which controlled it seemed but parts of one vast whole. His eyes
kindled, his cheeks flushed, and, as Amy had done, he forgot in his
eagerness over the new scene that others might be observing him and his
deformity.
At the weavers' looms he was "all eyes and ears," as one remarked.
Seeing the woollen threads stretched up and down, perfectly colored and
looking like a greatly elongated pattern, gave him a complete insight of
the task for which he had been engaged.
"I thought I understood it before. I think I could not make a mistake
now. A mistake would mean disaster wouldn't it?"
"It would," answered the superintendent, delighted to find his new
helper such a promising aid. "See, here is the pattern. Watch the weaver
awhile, then come with me to the 'setting room.' There is where Amy will
be if she keeps on as industriously as she has begun. I tell you brains
count. You are both gifted with them, and it should make you
grateful--helpful, too. I think the least of all a man's possessions
that he has a right to keep to himself is his brain."
Hallam looked up in surprise. Amy's acquaintance with the superintendent
had begun most auspiciously, and he had desired to be considered her
"friend," even as now her brother's. Yet since her coming to work in the
mill, Mr. Metcalf had not exchanged a dozen sentences with her. She saw
him daily, almost hourly. He was everywhere present about the great
buildings. In no department was anybody sure of the time of his
appearance, yet not one was overlooked. This kept the operators keyed
to an expectancy which brought out from them their best, for the
approbation of this observant 'boss' meant much to each. Yet he rarely
spoke in a harsh tone to any, nor had any ever heard him utter an oath.
This, in itself, gave him a distinction from all other mill
superintendents under which most of these operatives had served, and
added, it may be, a greater awe to their respect of him.
"I've been color mixer in a carpet mill these forty years, and Metcalf's
the only 'Supe' I ever knew could run one without swearing," often
remarked the master of the dyeing room. "He does; and a fellow may count
himself lucky to work under such a man."
The color mixer, being a most important personage in the institution,
had influence among his _confreres_, with good reason. His trade was an
art and a secret. Like all trade secrets it commanded its own price. He
was said to enjoy a salary "among the thousands," and to have rejected
even richer offers for the sake of the peaceful discipline at Ardsley.
Then the two visited the "setting room," where the mill girls reached
the highest promotion possible in their business. The "setting" is the
arrangement upon frames of the threads of the carpet, perfectly
adjusted. A girl sits upon each side the frame, which holds from two
hundred threads to slightly an advance upon that number. It is clean and
dainty work, and the operator is fortunate who can secure the position.
It is the same "thread" which, drawn over wires, in the weaver's hands,
makes the looplike surface of Brussels carpeting, which was the only
sort manufactured at Ardsley.
"You find it fascinating, don't you? So did Amy. Well, if you work here,
in any department, you will have opportunity to study the whole science,
from beginning to end. But I'm to meet Mr. Wingate in ten minutes in his
private office. Let us go back."
Amy, away up on the fourth floor where she worked, knew nothing of this
visit, and was a little dismayed when she received a summons to go down
"to the 'Supe's' room for her nooning."
She was now alone with Mary at her "jenny," and had already become so
expert that those who understood such matters prophesied she would soon
be promoted to the "twisting and doubling." That very morning the "boss"
of their room had said to her:--
"We never had a girl come here who got on so fast. It mostly takes
months to learn a half-machine. After another three she can mind both
sides. That means about four dollars and a half a week. Well, you've
been quick and faithful, and nobody could envy your good luck."
As she picked up her lunch basket and descended toward the office, more
than one called after her a good wish.
"Don't you be scared of the 'Supe.' If he scolds and you aren't to
blame, just tell him so, and he'll like you the better."
"Maybe he's going to promote you a'ready, though I don't see how he
could. I won't be jealous if he does, though," cried another; and
Gwendolyn, the inquisitive, resolved to keep up Amy's spirits by
accompanying her to the interview.
"But, Gwen, did he send for you?"
"No; course not. If he did, I shouldn't feel so chipper. There ain't no
love lost 'twixt the 'Supe' and me."
"Then maybe--"
"Trash! I'm going. Ain't I the one that fetched you here in the first
place? Hadn't I ought to stand by you, thick or thin?"
"Yes, I suppose so," answered Amy, more frightened by Gwendolyn's
suggestive manner than by any consciousness of blunders made. Nor did
she remind her neighbor that for a time, at first, while Amy's
popularity had not been determined, the other had shrewdly held aloof,
waiting the turn of the tide. Fortunately, this had been in the "new
hand's" direction, and since then Gwendolyn's attentions had been almost
overpowering.
But, indeed, Amy did not even think this. "Simplicity, sincerity,
sympathy"--she was faithfully striving to make this the rule of her own
life, and therefore she could not imagine anything lower in the lives of
others. But she still kept her frank tongue, and she gave it rein, as
the pair hurried officeward.
"Dear Gwen, if you only wouldn't chew that gum! It makes you look so
queer, and spoils all the pretty outline of your cheek. Besides, I'm
sure Mr. Metcalf doesn't like it. He always frowns when a gum-chewer has
to speak with him about her work."
"Pshaw, what a fuss you are! There, then, though that's the first bit
off a new stick, I've thrown it out the window. _Is_ my cheek pretty?
How do you manage to see things without looking? I never see you take
your eyes off your frame, yet not a thing goes on in that room you don't
seem to hear or know."
"I'm sure I don't know, unless it's because having lived all alone,
without other girls, I love to hear the voices and see the bright faces.
Oh, I do love _folks_! And it seems to me that every single girl in that
mill is far more interesting than the best story book I ever read."
"Well, if you don't beat! But, say, Amy!"
"Well?"
"I don't believe there's another girl there would tell me I was pretty
without saying something else would spoil it."
"Oh, indeed, there must be. If it's the truth, why shouldn't one say it?
But if it's the truth, again, you have no right to deface the beauty. Do
give up the gum."
"Why haven't I a right?"
"I don't know why. I simply know you haven't, any more than I have to be
untidy or disagreeable. I never realized until I came to be always among
so many people how each one could pain or please her neighbor. And it
seems to me each of us should be the sweetest, the best natured, the
truest, it is possible. Heigho! I'm turning a preacher, and it's a good
thing that there's the office, and I must stop. Brace your courage, Amy,
and knock at the door."
She did so and was promptly admitted; but did not see the
superintendent, who thus served her, for he purposely stepped behind the
door, so that her first glance fell upon Hallam seated at the sloping
table and busily at work. She caught her breath, regained it, and rushed
forward with a little shriek.
"Hallam! Hallam Kaye! You here! you--working?"
"Yes; I'm here. My first day at wage-earning. Didn't provide any lunch.
Can you spare some for me? Ah, Gwendolyn, good day."
Then another person appeared in the doorway--one whom nobody present
cared to see just then, though the superintendent stepped from his
hiding-place, the mirth dying out of his genial face as he bowed
respectfully to his superior, Mr. Archibald Wingate, the owner of
Ardsley Mill and of most of the surrounding property.
"Good day, Metcalf. Eh? What? Amy? Hallam? You here?"
"Yes, cousin Archibald. We are both here and working for you," answered
Amy, quietly. Then she surprised even herself by extending her hand in
greeting.