“What is all this talk I ’ear about the Chinese?” said Mrs. Wilkins to me the other morning. We generally indulge in a little chat while Mrs. Wilkins is laying the breakfast-table. Letters and newspapers do not arrive in my part of the Temple much before nine. From half-past eight to nine I am rather glad of Mrs. Wilkins. “They ’ave been up to some of their tricks again, ’aven’t they?”
“The foreigner, Mrs. Wilkins,” I replied, “whether he be Chinee or any other he, is always up to tricks. Was not England prepared by an all-wise to these tricks? Which of such particular tricks may you be referring to at the moment, Mrs. Wilkins?”
“Well, ’e’s comin’ over ’ere—isn’t he, sir? to take the work out of our mouths, as it were.”
“Well, not exactly over here, to England, Mrs. Wilkins,” I explained. “He has been introduced into Africa to work in the mines there.”
“It’s a funny thing,” said Mrs. Wilkins, “but to ’ear the way some of them talk in our block, you might run away with the notion—that is, if you didn’t know ’em—that work was their only joy. I said to one of ’em, the other evening—a man as calls ’isself a finisher, though, Lord knows, the only brass ’e ever finishes is what ’is poor wife earns and isn’t quick enough to ’ide away from ’im—well, whatever ’appens, I says, it will be clever of ’em if they take away much work from you. It made them all laugh, that did,” added Mrs. Wilkins, with a touch of pardonable pride.
“Ah,” continued the good lady, “it’s surprising ’ow they can be with a little, some of ’em. Give ’em a ’ard-working woman to look after them, and a day out once a week with a procession of the , they don’t ask for nothing more. There’s that beauty my poor sister Jane was fool enough to marry. Serves ’er right, as I used to tell ’er at first, till there didn’t seem any more need to rub it into ’er. She’d ’ad one good ’usband. It wouldn’t ’ave been fair for ’er to ’ave ’ad another, even if there’d been a chance of it, seeing the few of ’em there is to go round among so many. But it’s always the same with us widows: if we ’appen to ’ave been lucky the first time, we put it down to our own judgment—think we can’t ever make a mistake; and if we draw a wrong ’un, as the saying is, we argue as if it was the duty of Providence to make it up to us the second time. Why, I’d a been making a fool of myself three years ago if ’e ’adn’t been good-natured enough to call one afternoon when I was out, and ’ook it off with two pounds eight in the best teapot that I ’ad been soft enough to talk to ’im about: and never let me set eyes on ’im again. God bless ’im! ’E’s one of the born-tireds, ’e is, as poor Jane might ’ave seen for ’erself, if she ’ad only looked at ’im, instead of listening to ’im.
“But that’s courtship all the world over—old and young alike, so far as I’ve been able to see it,” was the opinion of Mrs. Wilkins. “The man’s all eyes and the woman all ears. They don’t seem to ’ave any other senses left ’em. I ran against ’im the other night, on my way ’ome, at the corner of Gray’s Inn Road. There was the usual crowd watching a pack of them Italians laying down the asphalt in ’Olborn, and ’e was among ’em. ’E ’ad secured the only lamp-post, and was leaning agen it.
“’Ullo,’ I says, ‘glad to see you ’aven’t lost your job. Nothin’ like stickin’ to it, when you’ve dropped into somethin’ that really suits you.’
“‘What do you mean, Martha?’ ’e says. ’E’s not one of what I call your smart sort. It takes a bit of to get through ’is ’ead.
“‘Well,’ I says, ‘you’re still on the old track, I see, looking for work. Take care you don’t ’ave an accident one of these days and run up agen it before you’ve got time to get out of its way.’
“‘It’s these foreigners,’ ’e says. ‘Look at ’em,’ ’e says.
“‘There’s enough of you doing that,’ I says. ‘I’ve got my room to put straight and three hours needlework to do before I can get to bed. But don’t let me ’inder you. You might forget what work was like, if you didn’t take an opportunity of watching it now and then.’
“‘They come over ’ere,’ ’e says, ‘and take the work away from us chaps.’
“‘Ah,’ I says, ‘poor things, perhaps they ain’t married.’
“‘Lazy devils! ’e says. ‘Look at ’em, smoking cigarettes. I could do that sort of work. There’s nothing in it. It don’t take ’eathen foreigners to a bit of about a road.’
“‘Yes,’ I says, ‘you always could do anybody else’s work but your own.’
“‘I can’t find it, Martha,’ ’e says.
“‘No,’ I says, ‘and you never will in the sort of places you go looking for it. They don’t ’ang it out on lamp-posts, and they don’t leave it about at the street corners. Go ’ome,’ I says, ‘and turn the for your poor wife. That’s big enough for you to find, even in the dark.’
“Looking for work!” snorted Mrs. Wilkins with contempt; “we women never ’ave much difficulty in finding it, I’ve noticed. There are times when I feel I could do with losing it for a day.”
“But what did he reply, Mrs. Wilkins,” I asked; “your brass-finishing friend, who was holding on the subject of Chinese cheap labour.” Mrs. Wilkins as a conversationalist is not easily kept to the point. I was curious to know what the working classes were thinking on the subject.
“Oh, that,” replied Mrs. Wilkins, “’e did not say nothing. ’E ain’t the sort that’s got much to say in an argument. ’E belongs to the crowd that ’angs about at the back, and does the shouting. But there was another of ’em, a young fellow as I feels sorry for, with a wife and three small children, who ’asn’t ’ad much luck for the last six months; and that through no fault of ’is own, I should say, from the look of ’im. ‘I was a fool,’ says ’e, ‘when I chucked a good situation and went out to the war. They told me I was going to fight for equal rights for all white men. I thought they meant that all of us were going to ’ave a better chance, and it seemed worth making a bit of sacrifice for, that did. I should be glad if they would give me a job in their mines that would enable me to feed my wife and children. That’s all I ask them for!’”
“It is a difficult problem, Mrs. Wilkins,” I said. “............