Sarah’s Benefactor
i

On the following afternoon Hilda travelled alone by the local train from Bleakridge to Knype, the central station where all voyagers for London, Birmingham, and Manchester had to foregather in order to take the fast expresses that unwillingly halted there, and there only, in their skimming flights across the district. It was a custom of Five Towns hospitality that a departing guest should be accompanied as far as Knype and stowed with personal attentions into the big train. But on this occasion Hilda had wished otherwise. “I should prefer nobody to go with me to Knype,” she had said, in a characteristic tone, to Janet. It was enough. The family had wondered; but it was enough. The family knew its singular, its mysterious Hilda. And instead of at Knype, the leave-takings had occurred at the little wayside station of Bleakridge, with wavy moorland behind, factory chimneys in front, and cinder and shawd heaps all around. Hilda had told Janet: “Mr. Cannon may be meeting me at Knype. He’s probably going to London too.” And the discreet Janet, comprehending Hilda, had not even mentioned this fact to the rest of the family.

George Cannon, in a light summer suit and straw hat, was already on the platform at Knype. Hilda had feared that at Bleakridge he might be looking out of the window of the local train, which started from Turnhill; she had desired not to meet him in the presence of any of the Orgreaves. But either he had caught the previous train to Knype, or he had driven down. Holding a Gladstone bag and a stick in one hand, he stood talking to another man of about his own age and height. The conversation was vivacious, at any rate on George Cannon’s part. Hilda passed close by him amid the populous stir of the expectant platform. He saw her, turned, and raised his hat, but in a perfunctory, preoccupied manner; and instantly resumed the speech to his companion. Hilda recognized the latter. It was ‘young Lawton,’ son and successor to ‘old Lawton,’ the most famous lawyer in the Five Towns. Young Lawton had a branch office at Turnhill, and lived in an important house half-way between Turnhill and Bursley, where, behind the Town Hall, was the historic principal office of the firm.

The express came loudly in, and Hilda, having climbed into a second-class compartment, leaned out from it, to descry her porter and bestow on him a threepenny bit. George Cannon and young Lawton were still in argument, and apparently quite indifferent to the train. Young Lawton’s thin face had its usual faint, harsh smile; his limbs were moveless in an exasperating and obstinate calm; Hilda detested the man from his mere looks. But George Cannon was very obviously under excitement. His face was flushed; he moved his free arm violently—even the Gladstone bag swung to and fro; he punctuated his sentences with sharp, angry nods of the head, insisting and protesting and insisting, while the other, saying much less, maintained his damnable stupid disdainful grin.

Would he let the train go, in his feverish preoccupation? Hilda was seriously afraid that he would. The last trunks were flung into the front van, the stationmaster in his tall hat waved curtly to the glittering guard; the guard waved his flag, and whistled; a porter banged the door of Hilda’s compartment, ignoring her gestures; the engine whistled. And at that moment George Cannon, throwing apparently a last malediction at young Lawton, sprang towards the train, and, seeing Hilda’s face, rushed to the door which she strained to open again.

“I was afraid you’d be left behind,” she said, as he dropped his bag on the seat and the affronted stationmaster himself shut the door.

“Not quite!” ejaculated Cannon grimly.

The smooth, irresistible gliding of the train became apparent, establishing a sudden aloof calm. Hilda perceived that all her muscles were tense.

In the compartment was a middle-aged couple.

“What’s this place?” asked the woman.

“Looks like Tamworth,” said the man sleepily.

“Knype, sir!” George Cannon corrected him very sharply. He was so wrought up that he had omitted even to shake hands with Hilda. Making no effort to talk, and showing no curiosity about Hilda’s welfare or doings, he moved uneasily on his seat, and from time to time opened and shut the Gladstone bag. Gradually the flush paled from his face.

At Lichfield the middle-aged couple took advice from a porter and stumbled out of the train.
ii

“We’re fairly out of the smoke now,” said Hilda, when the train began to move again. As a fact, they had been fairly out of the smoke of the Five Towns for more than half an hour; but Hilda spoke at random, timidly, nervously, for the sake of speaking. And she was as apologetic as though it was she herself who by some untimely discretion had annoyed George Cannon.

“Yes, thank God!” he replied fiercely, blowing with pleasure upon the embers of his resentment. “And I’ll take good care I never go into it again—to live, that is!”

“Really?” she murmured, struck into an extreme astonishment.

He produced a cigar and a match-box.

“May I?” he demanded carelessly, and accepted her affirmative as of course.

“You’ve heard about my little affair?” he asked, after lighting the cigar. And he gazed at her curiously.

“No.”

“Do you mean to say that none of the Orgreaves have said anything this last day or two?” He leaned forward. They were in opposite corners.

“No,” she repeated stiffly. Nevertheless, she remembered a peculiar glance of Tom’s to his father on the previous day, when George Cannon’s name had been mentioned.

“Well,” said he. “You surprise me! That’s all!”

“But—” She stopped, full of misgivings.

“Never heard any gossip about me—never?” he persisted, as it were, menacing her.

She shook her head.

“Never heard that I’m not really a solicitor?”

“Oh! well—I think mother once did say something—”

“I thought so.”

“But I don’t understand those things,” she said simply. “Is anything the matter? Is—”

“Nothing!” he replied, calm and convincing. “Only I’ve been done! Done! You’ll hear about it some day, I dare say.... Shall I tell you? Would you like me to tell you?” He smiled rather boyishly and leaned back.

“Yes,” she nodded.

His attitude was very familiar, recalling their former relation of employer and employed. It seemed as natural to her as to him that he should not too ceremoniously conceal his feelings or disguise his mood.

“Well, you see, I expect I know as much about law as any of ’em, but I’ve never been admitted, and so—” He stopped, perceiving that she did not comprehend the significance of such a word as ‘admitted.’ “If you want to practise as a solicitor you have to pass examinations, and I never have passed examinations. Very expensive, all that! And I couldn’t afford when I was young. It isn’t the exams that are difficult—you may tell that from the fellows that pass them. Lawton, for instance. But after a certain age exams become a nuisance. However, I could do everything else. I might have had half a dozen situations as managing clerk in the Five Towns if I’d wanted. Only I didn’t want! I wanted to be on my own. I could get clients as quick as any of them. And quicker! So I found Karkeek—the excellent Mr. Karkeek! Another of the bright ones that could pass the exams! Oh! He’d passed the exams all right! He’d spent five years and I don’t know how many hundred pounds in passing the exams, and with it all he couldn’t get above a couple of pounds a week. There are hundreds of real solicitors up and down the country who aren’t earning more. And they aren’t worth more. But I gave him more, and a lot more. Just to use his name on my door and my blinds. See? In theory I was his clerk, but in reality he was mine. It was all quite clear. He understood—I should think he did, by Jove!” George Cannon laughed shortly. “Every one understood. I got a practice together in no time. He didn’t do it. He wouldn’t have got a practice together in a thousand years. I had the second-best practice in Turnhill, and I should soon have had the best—if I hadn’t been done.”

“Yes?” said Hilda. The confidence flattered her.

“Well, Karkeek came into some money,—and he simply walked out of the office! Simply walked out! Didn’t give me time to turn round. I’d always treated him properly. But he was jealous.”

“What a shame!” Hilda’s scorn shrivelled up Mr. Karkeek. There was nothing that she detested so much as a disloyalty.

“Yes. I couldn’t stop him, of course. No formal agreement between us. Couldn’t be, in a case like ours! So he had me. He’d taken my wages quick enough as long as it suited him. Then he comes into money, and behaves like that. Jealousy! They were all jealous,—always had been. I was doing too well. So I had the whole gang down on me instantly like a thousand of bricks. They knew I was helpless, and so they came on. Special meeting of the committee of the North Staffordshire Law Society, if you please! Rumours of prosecution—oh yes! I don’t know what!... All because I wouldn’t take the trouble to pass their wretched exams.... Why, I could pass their exams on my head, if I hadn’t anything better to do. But I have. At first I thought I’d retire for five years and pass their exams, and then come back and make ’em sit up. And wouldn’t I have made ’em sit up! But then I said to myself, ‘No. It isn’t good enough.’”

Hilda frowned. “What isn’t?”

“What? The Five Towns isn’t good enough! I can find something better than the law, and I can find something better than the Five Towns!... And here young Lawton has the impudence to begin to preach to me on Knype platform, and to tell me I’m wise in going! He’s the President of the local Law Society, you know! No end of a President! And hasn’t even got gumption enough to keep his father’s practice together! Stupid ass! Well, I let him have it, and straight! He’s no worse than the rest. They’ve got no brains in this district. And they’re so narrow—narrow isn’t the word! Thick-headed’s the word. Stupid! Mean!... Mean!... What did it matter to them? I kept to all their rules. There was a real solicitor on the premises, and there’d soon have been another, if I’d had time. No concern of theirs how the money was divided between me and the real solicitor. But they were jealous—there............