"IT WOULD BE A GOOD THING."
Exciting events were not so common in Broxton and its vicinity that this
one could remain in the background. It furnished a topic of conversation
for the dinner and tea-tables of every family within ten miles of the
place. On Murdoch's next visit to the Briarleys', Granny Dixon insisted
on having the matter explained for the fortieth time and was manifestly
disgusted by the lack of dramatic incident connected with it.
"Tha seed her dress catch i' th' wheel an' dragged her back," she
shouted. "Was na theer nowt else? Did na she swound away, nor nothin'?"
"No," he answered. "She did not know what had happened at first."
Granny Dixon gave him a shrewd glance of examination, and then favored
him with a confidential remark, presented at the top of her voice.
"I conna bide her," she said.
"What did Mr. Ffrench say to thee?" asked Janey. "Does tha think he'll
gie thee owt fur it?"
"No," answered Murdoch. "He won't do that."
"He owt to," said Janey fretfully. "An' tha owt to tak' it, if he does.
Tha does na think enow o' money an' th' loike. Yo'll nivver get on i'
th' world if yo' mak' light o' money an' let it slip by yo'."
Floxham had told the story somewhat surlily to his friends, and his
friends had retailed it over their beer, and the particulars had thus
become common property.
"What did she say?" Floxham had remarked at the first relation. "She
said nowt, that's what she said. She did na quoite mak' th' thing out at
first, an' she stood theer brushin' th' black off her sleeve. Happen,"
sardonically, "she did na loike th' notion o' a working chap catchin'
howd on her wi'out apologizin'."
Haworth asked Murdoch to spend an evening with him, and sat moody and
silent through the greater part of it. At last he said:
"You think you've been devilish badly treated," he said. "But, by the
Lord! I wish I was in your place."
"You wish," repeated Murdoch, "that you were in my place? I don't know
that it's a particularly pleasant place to be in."
Haworth leaned forward upon the table and stared across at him gloomily.
"Look here," he said. "You know naught about her. She's hard to get at;
but she'll remember what's happened; cool as she took it, she'll
remember it."
"I don't want her to remember it," returned Murdoch. "Why should it
matter? It's a thing of yesterday. It was nothing but chance. Let it
go."
"Confound it!" said Haworth, with a restive moroseness. "I tell you I
wish I'd been in your place--at twice the risk."
The same day Mr. Ffrench had made a visit to the Works for the purpose
of setting his mind at rest and expressing his gratitude in a graceful
manner. In fact he was rather glad of the opportunity to present himself
upon the ground so soon again. But on confronting the hero of the hour,
he found that somehow the affair dwindled and assumed an altogether
incidental and unheroic aspect. His rather high-flown phrases modified
themselves and took a different tone.
"He is either very reserved or very shy," he said afterward to his
daughter. "It is not easy to reach him at the outset. There seems a lack
of enthusiasm about him, so to speak."
"Will he come to the house?" asked Miss Ffrench.
"Oh yes. I suppose he will come, but it was very plain that he would
rather have stayed away. He had too much good taste to refuse
point-blank to let you speak to him."
"Good taste!" repeated Miss Ffrench.
Her father turned upon her with manifest irritation.
"Good taste!" he repeated petulantly. "Cannot you see that the poor
fellow is a gentleman? I wish you would show less of this nonsensical
caste prejudice, Rachel."
"I suppose one necessarily dispenses with a good deal of it in a place
like this," she answered. "In making friends with Mr. Haworth, for
instance----"
Mr. Ffrench drew nearer to her and rested his elbow upon the mantel with
rather an embarrassed expression.
"I wish you to--to behave well to Haworth," he said faltering. "I--a
great deal may--may depend upon it."
She looked up at him at once, lifting her eyes in a serene glance.
"Do you want to go into the iron trade?" she asked relentlessly.
He blushed scarlet, but she did not move her eyes from his face on that
account.
"What--what Haworth needs," he stammered, "is a--a man of education
to--to assist him. A man who had studied the scientific features of--of
things, might suggest valuable ideas to him. There is an--an immense
field open to a rich, enterprising fellow such as he is--a man who is
fearless and--and who has the means to carry out his ventures."
"You mean a man who will try to do new things," she remarked. "Do you
think he would?"
"The trouble has been," floundering more hopelessly than ever, "that his
lack of cultivation has--well, has forced him to act in a single groove.
If--if he had a--a partner who--knew the ropes, so to speak--his
business would be doubled--trebled."
She repeated aloud one of his words.
"A partner," she said.
He ran his hand through his hair and stared at her, wishing that he
could think of something decided to say.
"Does he know you would like to be his partner?" she asked next.
"N--no," he faltered, "not exactly."
She sat a moment looking at the fire.
"I do not believe he would do it," she said at last. "He is too proud of
having done everything single-handed."
Then she looked at her father again.
"If he would," she said, "and there were no rash ventures made, it would
be a good thing."