It was late on Saturday night, and unpleasantly hot in the little dingy
room where Ingleby sat with a companion beneath the slates of a tall,
four-story house in a busy cloth-making town. There were several large
holes in the threadbare carpet, and a portion of the horsehair stuffing
protruded from the dilapidated sofa, while the rickety chairs and
discoloured cloth on the table were equally suggestive of severe
economy. A very plain bookcase hung on the wall, and the condition of
the historical works and treatises on political economy it contained
seemed to indicate that they had been purchased secondhand; while an oil
lamp burned dimly on the mantel, for the room was almost intolerably
stuffy already, and the gas supplied at Hoddam was bad and dear. A
confused murmur of voices came up from the narrow street below, with the
clatter of heavy shoes and the clamour of the cheap-Jacks in the
neighbouring market square.
Ingleby, who had taken off his jacket, lay in a decrepit arm-chair
holding a slip of paper in his hand. Opposite him sat another young man
with the perspiration beaded on his face, which was sallow and somewhat
hollow. He was watching Ingleby with a faint smile in his eyes.
"The little excursion doesn't seem to commend itself to you," he said.
"No," answered Ingleby drily, "I can't say it does. I had looked forward
to spending a quiet day on the moors to-morrow. It will in all
probability be the last Sunday I shall ever pass in this country.
Besides, considering that I don't even belong to the Society, this
notice is a trifle peremptory. Why should the Committee confidently
expect my co-operation in enforcing the right of way through Willow
Dene? I certainly did not tell anybody to keep me a place in the
wagonette, which they are good enough to intimate has been done."
"Still, after that speech you made you will have to go. You're in
sympathy with the movement, anyway?"
Ingleby made a little impatient gesture. "I don't know what came over me
that night, and, to tell the truth, Leger, I've been almost sorry I got
up ever since. It was, in one way, an astonishing piece of assurance,
and I can't help a fancy that most of those who heard me must have known
a good deal more about the subject than I did."
"It's not altogether improbable," and his companion laughed. "In fact,
twice when you made a point I heard a man behind me quoting your
authorities. Still, they didn't expect you to be original."
"One or two of the others certainly were; but that's not quite the
question. Of course, there is no excuse for the closing of Willow Dene,
but driving out in wagonettes on Sunday doesn't quite appeal to me. It's
over three miles, too, unfortunately. One has, after all, to consider
popular--prejudice--you see."
Leger was slight of physique and of wholly undistinguished appearance,
as well as shabbily dressed; but there was a hint of rather more than
intelligence in his sallow face, and he had expressive brown eyes. A
little twinkle crept into them just then.
"I can remember occasions when it seemed to please you to fly in the
face of them, but your thoroughness isn't altogether above suspicion now
and then. One has to be one thing or the other."
"You know my opinions."
"Oh, yes," said Leger smiling. "Most of your acquaintances do. It would
be a little astonishing if they didn't. Still, you have a few effete
aristocratic notions clinging about you. Why shouldn't we drive out on
Sunday, with the traditional crimson neckties and clay pipes if it
pleases us, even if our presence is no great improvement to the scenery,
when it ought to be clear that we can't go any other day? Besides, what
is a man of your opinions doing with those luxuries yonder?"
He pointed to Ingleby's tennis flannels and black swimming costume which
hung behind the door. Ingleby laughed.
"Are cleanliness and decency quite out of keeping with democratic views?
I'm fond of swimming, and the only place where I can get into the river
now is the big pool beside the Thorndale road. It's a trifle public even
at seven A. M., but my landlady objects to my bathing here, and since I
can't afford the necessary apparatus I don't blame her. She says it
brings the plaster off the lower ceilings, and I really think it does."
"There is the establishment provided by a beneficent municipality."
"Where they charge you sixpence."
Leger nodded. "Sixpence," he said, "is certainly a consideration. Still,
there are days on which one can obtain a sufficiency of water for half
the sum. The plunge bath is, I believe, forty feet long."
"It is the quality and not the quantity to which I object."
Leger shook his head reproachfully. "I'm afraid those effete prejudices
are still very strong in you. You play tennis, too. How much does that
cost you?"
"It's a question I'm not going to answer," and Ingleby flushed hotly.
"Anyway, I've had full value for the money."
Leger smiled in a curious fashion as he looked at him, but he changed
the subject and pointed to the pamphlet on the floor. "What do you think
of the new apostle's speeches?"
A little sparkle crept into Ingleby's eyes. "They are," he said slowly,
"almost a revelation. Even on paper one feels the passion and the truth
in them. The man's a genius, and you have to believe in him. I could
fancy him doing anything he liked with you if you came in contact with
him."
"It is not quite out of the question. It was an Oregon paper that first
printed what he had to say, and I believe that State is on the Pacific
slope where you are going. You evidently still mean to go?"
"Yes," said Ingleby shortly. "What chance is there for me--or any of
us--here?"
Leger threw up the window and looked into the street. The lights of a
big gin palace flared down in the narrow gap, and a stream of perspiring
humanity flowed along beneath them, slatternly women, and men with
flattened chests and shoulders bent by unhealthy toil, jostling one
another. The garish brilliancy touched their pallid faces, and the harsh
murmur of their voices came up hollowly between the tall houses with the
reek of gas fumes and other confused odours. There were many poor in
Hoddam, and in hot weather bargains were to be had in the neighbouring
market at that hour; while trade was bad just then, and a little lower
down the street shadowy figures were flitting into a pawnbroker's door.
Leger's face grew a trifle weary as he watched them.
"At the best it is a poor one," he said. "One feels inclined to wonder
if--this--is to last forever."
"It's too big a question. Give it up, and come out with me."
"And let the powers that be have it all their own way?" said Leger.
"I'm afraid neither you nor I can prevent them. Besides, from what this
American says, there seem to be people with grievances out yonder, too.
A good many of them, in fact. I expect there are everywhere."
Leger smiled. "I wonder," he said, "whether that has just dawned on you.
Still, I'm not so strong as you are--and there's Hetty. You'll have to
go alone, but you'll leave at least two people behind you who will think
of you often."
He stopped abruptly, for there was a patter of feet on the stairway, and
Ingleby rose as the door swung open and a girl came in. She carried a
basket, and appeared a trifle breathless, for the stairs were steep, but
her dress was tasteful, and most men would have admitted that she was
pretty. She took the chair Ingleby drew out, and smiled at him.
"Do you know that the people downstairs would hardly let me in?" she
said. "You seem to be very well looked after, but I knew you wouldn't
mind me. I've come for Tom."
Ingleby laughed, but it was a trifle uneasily, for he was young, and by
no means the girl's equal in the matter of self-possession. In fact, one
had only to look at Hetty Leger to recognize that she was capable, and
could be, on occasion, a trifle daring, for there was courage as well as
cheerfulness in her clear blue eyes, which met one's glance steadily
from under dark and unusually straight brows.
"You have been marketing?" he said.
Hetty nodded. "Yes," she answered. "You can, if you know how to go about
it, get provisions cheap after ten o'clock on Saturday night, and I have
had the usual difficulty in making ends meet this week. Wouldn't it be a
relief to live in a country where there was no rent to pay and you take
a spade and grow what you want to eat?"
"Ingleby's going where they do something of that kind, though I believe
they now and then dig up gold and silver, too," said her brother.
Hetty, for no ostensible reason, pulled up one of her little cotton
gloves, which did not seem to need it, and then looked quietly at
Ingleby.
"Then you are going away?" she asked.
Her brother nodded. "Yes," he said. "To the Pacific slope of North
America. He was just suggesting that we should come, too."
Hetty sat silent for several moments.
"Well?" she said at last.
"I told him it couldn't be thought of. For one thing, it would cost a
good deal of money."
Hetty glanced swiftly at Ingleby, and an older man might have noticed
the suppressed intentness in her face.
"I'm afraid Tom is right--though I wish you could come," he said. "When
I mentioned it I didn't remember that he isn't very strong and that it
must be a very rough country for an Englishwoman. You wouldn't care to
live in a log hut forty miles from anywhere, Hetty?"
The girl now looked straight in front of her. "No, I suppose not; but as
I shall never get the chance, that doesn't matter. Well, I think you are
wise to go. There are already more of us here than there seems to be any
use for."
Ingleby almost fancied that there was something slightly unusual in her
voice; but her face was impassive, and she rose with a little smile.
"It is getting late, Tom," she said. "You are both going to the
demonstration to-morrow?"
Ingleby said they were, and Hetty waited a moment, apparently doing
something to her hat, when her brother, who took the basket, passed out
of the room. She had a pretty figure, and the pose she fell into with
one rounded arm raised and a little hand busy with the hatpin was not
unbecoming. She was also on excellent terms with Ingleby, who leaned
against the mantel watching her until she shook the hat a trifle
impatiently, when he stepped forward.
"If you want the thing put straight, let me try," he said.
Then, to his astonishment, the hand he had laid upon the hat was
snatched away, and next moment Hetty, with a red spot in her cheek,
stood at least a yard away from him. She had moved so quickly that he
was not quite sure how she had got there.
"Do you think I am less particular than--any one else?"
"No," answered Ingleby contritely, with a trace of confusion. "Certainly
not. I would never have offered, only we are such old friends; and I
think that when you brought that hat home after buying it you let me put
it on for you."
Hetty's face was still a trifle flushed, but she laughed. "That," she
said, "was a long time ago; but, after all, we needn't quarrel. In fact,
I let Tom go on because I had something to ask you."
"Of course, anything I can do----"
Hetty smiled sardonically. "Oh, yes, I know! Still, it's really very
little--or I wouldn't ask you. Just to look after Tom to-morrow. Now, he
has in most ways a good deal more sense than you----"
"I can believe it," said Ingleby. "It really isn't very astonishing."
"Still, you are stronger than he is, and he hasn't been very well since
he took up the night work at the mill. If there should be any trouble
you will look after him?"
Ingleby promised; and, hearing her brother reascending the stairway, the
girl swiftly flitted out of the room, while Ingleby sat down to
consider, with the warmth still in his face, for he was not quite
pleased with himself, and, as a natural result, a trifle vexed with
Hetty. It was true, he admitted, that the girl had made a somewhat
enticing picture as she stood with face partly turned from him and one
hand raised to her head; but it was, he decided, merely the brotherly
kindness he had always felt for her which had prompted his offer, and it
was unpleasant to feel that he had done anything that might hurt her
self-respect. Still, he could not understand why this should be so,
since she had undoubtedly permitted him to put the hat on and admire her
in it not so very long ago, and he failed to discover any reason why
she should, in the meanwhile, have grown stricter in her views as to
what was fitting. Nor could he understand her question, which suggested
that she considered herself entitled to at least as much deference as a
person she preferred not to name.
Then, remembering that most young women were subject to unaccountable
fancies now and then, he dismissed the matter as of no importance, after
all, and once more busied himself with the American's speeches. They
were certainly stirring, and made the more impression because he was
unacquainted with Western hyperbole; but there was in them, as wiser men
had admitted, the ring of genuine feeling, as well as a logical
vindication of democratic aspirations. Ingleby was young, and his blood
warmed as he read; while Hetty Leger, as she walked home through the hot
streets of the still noisy town with her brother, was for once curiously
silent, and almost morose, though, considering the life she led, she was
usually a cheerful girl.
It was not much quieter on the following afternoon when Ingleby, who,
partly as a protest against the decrees of conventionality, wore a soft
cap and his one suit of light summer tweed, met Leger on the doorstep of
the Committee rooms of a certain Society. Several big wagonettes were
already drawn up, and men with pallid faces sat in them, neatly attired
for the most part, though somewhat to Ingleby's annoyance several of
them smoked clay pipes and wore brilliant neckties and hard felt hats.
He was quite aware that it was unreasonable of him to object to this,
but, nevertheless, he could not help it. They were, however, quiet and
orderly enough, and indulged in no more than good-humoured badinage with
the crowd that had assembled to see them off; but Ingleby felt inclined
to protest when Leger led him to a place on the box-seat of the foremost
vehicle, where a man was scattering leaflets among the crowd.
"Couldn't we sit anywhere else?" he asked. "It's a little conspicuous
here."
Leger shook his head. "That can't be helped," he said. "It's the penalty
of making speeches. You are considered one of the stalwarts now. There's
no use in objecting to the result when you have been guilty of the
cause, you know."
"I'll be especially careful another time," said Ingleby, with a little
grimace. "In the meanwhile I'm ready to do anything you can reasonably
expect of me."
Then there was a cracking of whips and a rattle of wheels, and the
discordant notes of a cornet broke through the semi-ironical cheer; and,
as they rolled across the river, which, foul with the refuse of
tanneries and dye-works, crept out of the close-packed town, a man who
sat on the bridge waved his hat to the leading driver.
"Take them straight to the lock-up, Jim," he said. "It will save
everybody trouble, and what's the use of going round?"
Then they wound through dusky woods out of the hot valley, and down the
long white road across a sun-baked moor, where the dust whirled behind
them in a rolling cloud. However, the men in the foremost vehicle got
little of it, and Ingleby felt that the drive would have been pleasant
in different circumstances, as he watched the blue hills that rose in
the dazzling distance, blurred with heat. Only one white fleecy cloud
flecked the sweep of cerulean, and the empty moor lay still under the
drowsy silence of the Sunday afternoon. It seemed to him most unfitting
that the harsh voices of his companions, the clatter of hoofs, and the
doleful tooting of the cornet, should jar upon it. Then as they dipped
into a hollow they came upon other travellers, all heading in the same
direction, who hurled somewhat pointed jests at them as they passed; but
these did not exactly resemble the men in the wagonettes. Their attire
was by no means neat, and they had not in the least the appearance of
men about to discharge a duty, while several of them carried heavy
sticks.
"I wonder what they mean to do with those bludgeons," said Ingleby a
trifle uneasily.
Leger laughed. "I have no doubt they would come in handy for killing
pheasants. There are, I believe, a good many young ones down in the
Dene. Of course, the Committee could very well dispense with the company
of those fellows, but we can't prevent any man from asserting his rights
as a Briton."
"That," said Ingleby, grimly, "is in one respect almost a pity. The
difficulty is that somebody will get the credit of our friends' doings."
"Of course!" and Leger laughed again. "You can't be a reformer for
nothing; you have to take the rough with the smooth--though there is, as
a rule, very little of the latter."
Ingleby said nothing further; but it dawned on him, as it had, indeed,
done once or twice before, that even a defective system of preserving
peace and order might be preferable to none at all. Still, he naturally
would not admit his misgivings, and said nothing until the wagonettes
rolled into a little white village gay with flowers and girt about by
towering beeches. The windows of an old grey house caught the sunlight
and flashed among the trees, and, as the vehicles drew up, a trim groom
on a splendid horse swept out through the gate of a clematis-covered
lodge.
Then there was a hoarse cheer from a group of dilapidated and dusty
loungers as the men swung themselves down outside the black-beamed
hostelry which bore a coat-of-arms above its portal. They were unusually
quiet, and Leger, who glanced at them, touched Ingleby's shoulder.
"They'll do their work," he said. "Still, I fancy we are expected, and
I'm not sure that I'd be sorry if we had the thing done, and were
driving home again."