'TWIXT FATHER AND SON.
When her son went home, Mrs Hexton was sitting up very straight and
stern-looking in her chair, with a knitted stocking in one hand, a
worsted-threaded needle in the other, and a handkerchief tied over her
head to keep off the draught, for the new drawing-room was cold.
Mr Hexton was seated in an easy-chair--at least, he was in the
easy-chair; but it is not fair to say that he was seated, for he was
filling up the chair just as if he had no bones, and making a rather
sonorous noise as he breathed.
It was past one o'clock, and the servants had gone to bed at ten, soon
after which time Mr Hexton had proposed that they should follow, but
Mrs Hexton had declared her intention of sitting up for her son.
"Why, what nonsense!" her husband had said. "Come along to bed."
"You can go, dear," she replied quietly. "I should not be happy if I
did not see him safely back. And, besides, he will want a cup of tea
and a bit of toast."
"And his face washed, and his feet put in warm water, while his mother
brushes his hair, and fusses over him," said Mr Hexton pettishly. "For
goodness' sake, don't go on petting and coddling the boy like that."
Mrs Hexton said nothing--only rose from her chair, and placed the
tea-tray and the caddy ready, for they had been brought in the last
thing by one of the maids. Then she lifted the bright copper kettle out
of the fender and placed it on the hob, where it began to sing a song of
its own composition, and she ended by taking up three pairs of her son's
stockings to darn.
There was not the slightest need for Mrs Hexton to perform such a duty
as this, but she had darned her husband's stockings when they were poor
people, and she could not easily give up her old habits when they were
comparatively rich. And now, as she ran the long, glistening needle in
and out amongst the worsted threads, her husband sat back in his chair
and said it was absurd; but all the same, as he watched her with
half-closed eyes, he thought what a good woman she was, and how happy it
made him to think that she was not in the slightest degree spoiled by
prosperity, while he fervently prayed that she might continue as she was
to the end.
Then, as he sank back lower and lower, thinking how earnestly his son
had set about his task of reforming and improving the matters in the
mine, he began to recall the terrible accidents that had happened at
their pit, and at those in the neighbourhood. It would be a grand
thing, he thought, if Philip, with his fresh and earnest mind and his
knowledge, could do something to lessen the dangers of the pitman's
life; though he rather trembled for the result, knowing as he did how
hard it is to get over old prejudices.
Then all became very misty and strange; and to his blurred eyesight it
seemed as if Mrs Hexton's grey stocking-covered hand got itself mixed
up with her head, and her head appeared to be mixed up with the copper
kettle on the hob, and then it was his wife who was singing like the
tea-kettle, and then all was blank till he started up wide awake, for
there was a noise at the door, and Mrs Hexton immediately began to make
the tea.
"Have I been asleep, mother?" said Mr Hexton. "Hallo, Phil! back
again?"
"Why, father--mother!" exclaimed the young man, "why haven't you both
gone to bed?"
"I thought you'd find a cup of tea so refreshing," said the old lady
briskly; and, waiting till it had stood long enough, she poured out a
cup, placed a pair of slippers a little more in front of the fire, her
work in a basket, and ended by kissing her son and saying good-night.
He followed her to the door, where she laughingly turned round and bade
Mr Hexton make haste up, kissed her son once more, and left him with
his father.
"Nice to be you, Phil," said the latter. "Oh, she has left out two
cups! I'll have a cup of tea with you."
This he took, and then, as father and son sat together, the latter was
the first to speak.
"I've had rather a scene to-night, father," he said.
"Scene! What! Not an accident?" said Mr Hexton, nearly upsetting his
tea in his excitement.
"No, father, no accident; but the pit was so foul to-night that I
believe if I had not interfered the place would have fired."
"They will do it, Phil; they will do it," said Mr Hexton, as soon as
his son had finished his narration. "I've tried all I know to stop it,
but they'll run any risk, especially if they've tried the same thing
before without accident."
"Yes, I see that," said Philip. "It is so hard to make them see that
there is danger at one time that does not exist at another."
"Exactly," said the elder seriously. "But I'm very sorry about that
fellow Parks. He's a spiteful and dangerous man. I don't like his
owing you a grudge."
"I'm not afraid, father," said Philip. "I've right on my side. I
believe, too, that he is a great coward."
"Maybe," said Mr Hexton thoughtfully; "but still I would much rather it
had not happened. Bother the fellows! it does seem hard; we are always
striving to give them the means of working in safety, and in return they
fly in your face."
"We'll forgive them that, father," said the young man smiling, "but we
must have the rules of the mine strictly carried out."
"I'll back you up, Phil, in anything in reason," said Mr Hexton; "but
look here: be careful--don't trust yourself in that fellow's way, my
boy. I'm afraid he's an ugly character, and there's no knowing to what
lengths spite will lead an ignorant man. What shall you do? Haul him
up before the bench for threatening language--have him bound over?"
"No, father," said Philip quietly, as he sipped his tea. "I shall take
no further notice. I have shown the men to-night that I mean business,
that I am working for their good; and I have no doubt in the end that
they will learn to respect me as well as obey."
"And I wanted to stop him from going down the pit," said Mr Hexton to
himself, as he sat watching his son.
"It will be a long fight, father," cried Philip, rising and holding out
his hand. "Good-night!" he said with a smile; "we've declared war, but
I mean to win."