Affairs grew more unsatisfactory at Dallory as the weeks went on. The strike continued; the men utterly refusing to return to work except on their own terms, or, rather, the Trades\' union refusing to allow them to do so. Supplies became more scanty. If not actual famine, something near to it began to reign. North Inlet, once so prosperous, looked like a half-starved place out at elbows. Oh, what senseless folly it was! What would it end in? Mrs. Gass had grown tired of going amongst the men to reason with them and try to bring them to their senses; but Miss Dallory still went. Miss Dallory could make no impression whatever. The men were moody, miserable, almost starved. They would gladly have gone back to work again almost on no pay at all, only as a relief to the present idleness; but they belonged to the famous Trades\' union now, and must obey its dictates. Mary Dallory grew angry sometimes, and asked whether they were men, or cravens, that they had no pity for their poor helpless children.
One day Mrs. Gass and Miss Dallory went forth together. Not of premeditation. One of Ketler\'s children was ill and weakly, incipient consumption, Dr. Rane said; she was a sweet little child, mild and gentle; and Miss Dallory would sometimes carry her strengthening things. It was a terrible shame, she would tell Ketler, that he should let even this poor sickly child starve: and Ketler humbly acknowledged to his own heart that the child was starving; and felt it keenly. The man was as well-meaning a man as Heaven ever sent into the world; anxious to do his duty: but he had signed himself a member of the Trades\' union, and was helpless.
Miss Dallory wore a print gown, and was altogether a great deal less fine than Jelly. She carried a small basket in her hand, containing fresh eggs. As she passed Mrs. Gass\'s that lady was standing at her open parlour window, in all the glory of a gorgeous green satin robe, and white bonnet with bird-of-paradise feather. She dearly loved fine clothes, and saw no reason why she should not wear them.
"Where be you bound to, my dear?" asked the grandly-dressed lady, as Mary stopped.
"I am taking these eggs to little Cissy Ketler. Mrs. Gass, what is to become of all the poor children if this state of things should last much longer?"
"I\'m sure I don\'t know. It goes again\' the grain to see \'em want; but when we give \'em food or helps it\'s just so much premium offered to the father\'s incorrigible obstinacy and idleness, my dear."
"But the child is ill," said Mary Dallory. "And so are many other children."
"They\'ll be worse before long. My dear, I was not talking at you, in saying that. But I don\'t see where it\'s all to end. We can\'t set up hospitals for the women and children, even with the best will to do it. And the will, I, for one, have not. Once get their wives and children took care of, and the men would lead the lives of gentlemen to the end o\' the chapter. Here; I\'ll walk with you, my dear; and we can talk going along."
She came forth, drawing on her lemon-coloured gloves: and they went towards Ketler\'s. North Inlet looked deserted to-day. Not a man was lounging in it. The few stragglers to be seen were walking briskly in the direction of the works; as if they had business on hand, and were without their pipes. Mrs. Gass arrested one who was passing her.
"What\'s up, Dawson?"
"We\'ve been called together, ma\'am, to meet Mr. Richard North. He have som\'at to say to us. Happen, maybe, he\'s a-going to give in at last."
"Is he!" retorted Mrs. Gass. "I don\'t think you need worrit your inside with that idea, Dawson. It\'s a deal more likely that he\'s going to warn you he\'ll sell the works out and out--if he can get any fool to buy \'em."
The man passed on. Mrs. Gass, as she turned to Miss Dallory, gave a flourish with her small white lace parasol and a toss to the bird-of-paradise.
"Had anybody told me men could be so obstinate, in regard to thinking themselves in the right, I\'d never have believed it: but seeing\'s believing. My dear, suppose we just step on to the works, and learn what matter Mr. Richard has in hand."
The men, going in at the iron gates, branched round to their own entrance. Mrs. Gass took Miss Dallory to a private one. It led at once into what might now be called the audience chamber, for Richard North was already haranguing the men in it: a long and rather narrow room, with a counter running across it. It used to be the pay-room of the men: perhaps some of them, entering now, recalled those prosperous days with a sigh. Richard North did not see the ladies come in. He stood with his back to them, in his usual everyday attire, a plain black frock-coat and grey trousers. His hands rested on the counter as he talked to the men, who faced him on the other side; a crowd of them, all with attentive countenances. Mrs. Gass signed to Miss Dallory to halt; not to conceal themselves from Richard, but simply lest their advance should interrupt what he was saying. And so they remained listening, Richard unconscious that he had any other audience than his workpeople.
The matter was this. A contract had just been offered to North and Gass. It was a very large one, and would certainly, if accepted, keep the men employed for some time. It was offered at a certain price. Richard North made his calculations and found that he could accept it, provided the men would work on the former terms: but he could not if the rate of wages had to be raised. Considering the present hopeless condition of the men, imagining that they must have had very nearly sufficient experience of idleness and empty cupboards to bring them to reason, he determined to lay the proposal before them--that they might accept or reject it. In a clear and concise manner he stated this, and the men heard him respectfully to the end. One of them then advanced a few steps before the rest, and answered. Answered without the smallest deliberation; without so much as a pretence of inquiring what the feelings of his fellows might be.
"We can\'t do it, sir."
Richard North raised his hand for silence, as if the man had spoken before his time.
"Do you fully understand the case in all its bearings?" resumed Richard: "if not, take time to reflect until you do understand it. Look at it well; take into consideration the future as well as the present. Listen again. This contract has been offered me: it is a good one, as you must know. It will set our works going again; it will be the means of bringing back the business that seems to be drifting more hopelessly away from us day by day. It will provide you with, employment, with wages that you not so long ago thought liberal; and will place you again in what may be called prosperity--great prosperity as compared with what exists at present. Your homes may be homes of plenty again, your children have sufficient food. In short, both to you and to me, this contract offers just the turn of the tide. I wish to accept it: I see nothing but ruin before my father and myself if I cannot do so: what I see before you I do not care to speak of, if you are not wise enough to see it for yourselves. The decision lies with you, unfortunately; I wish it lay with myself. Shall I take it, or shall I not?"
"We couldn\'t return at them rate of wages, nohow," spoke up a voice from the crowd.
"It is the last chance that I shall offer you," proceeded Richard. "For your sakes I would strongly advise you to take it. Heaven is my witness that I am honest in saying \'for your sakes.\' We have been associated together for many years, and I cannot see the breaking up of old ties without first using every effort to re-unite them. I must give my answer tomorrow, and accept this work or reject it. Little time is allowed me for decision, therefore I am unable to give much to you. Virtually the acceptance or rejection lies with you; for, without you, I could not fulfil it: but I cannot help a remark in passing, that for such a state of things to exist argues something rotten at the core in the relations between master and men. At six o\'clock tomorrow morning the great bell shall be rung, calling you to work as formerly. My men, I hope you will all respond to it."
No, not at the terms offered, was the answer gathered by Richard North from the buzz that rose around.
"I cannot offer you better. I have said that this is the last chance," repeated Richard. "I shall never give you the option of working for me again."
The men couldn\'t help that. The fact was, they only half believed it. One ventured a supposition that if the works were sold, the new firm might give them work on new terms.
"No," said Richard North. "I am very different from you, my men. You see work at your very hand, and will not do it. You look forward to the future with, as I must suppose, easy apathy, giving neither care nor anxiety as to how you and your families are to live. I, on the contrary, am only anxious to work; at a reduced rate of profit, on a smaller scale if it must be; but, any way, to work. Night after night I lie awake, tormented with lively apprehensions for the future. What seemed, when you first turned out, to be a mere temporary stoppage, that reason and good sense on both our sides could not fail to rectify, has assumed gigantic proportions and a permanent aspect. After some time I gave way; offering to split the difference, as to wages, if you would return----"
"But we wanted the whole," came an interruption. "And you didn\'t give way as to time."
"I could not do either," said Richard North firmly. "I offered all I was able. That is a thing of the past: let it go. I now make you this last and final offer; and I think it only fair to tell you what my course will be if you reject it. I shall go over to Belgium and see if I cannot engage Belgian workmen to come here and take your places."
A dead silence fell on the room. Ketler broke it.
"You\'d surely not do that, sir!"
"Not do it! Why, you force it upon me. I must either get a new set of men, or give up the works entirely. As I do not feel inclined to the latter course, the former alone is open to me."
"We\'ll have none o\' them Belgiums here!" cried a threatening voice from the crowd.
"Allow me to tell you, Thoms, to tell you all, that the Belgians will not ask your leave to come," spoke Richard, raising his head to its full height. "Would you act the part of dogs-in-the-manger? I offer you the work; offer it now; and I heartily wish you to accept it; but if you do not, I shall certainly endeavour to get others here who wil............