Part 14 (2/2)
”It was only settled yesterday; the managers heard that my wife was a trained mistress, and as they were going to pension off the present mistress they offered it to her.”
”I am very glad,” Jack said, ”for Mrs. White has long been past her work, and the girls did pretty well as they liked.”
”I expect to have some trouble with them at first,” Mrs. Dodgson said cheerfully. ”I often tell my husband girls are ever so much more troublesome than boys, but I daresay I shall manage; and now, Mr Simpson, we are just going to have supper, will you join us? It will be our first regular meal in the house.”
”Thank you very much,” Jack said, colouring and hesitating, ”but I think, perhaps, you don't know that I am only a lad in the pit.”
”Stuff and nonsense,” Mrs. Dodgson said, ”what has that to do with it?
Why, Mr. Merton says that you will be John's right hand. Besides, you will be able to tell us all about the people we shall have to do with.”
In another moment Jack was seated at table, and really enjoyed the meal, lightened, as it was, by the pleasant talk of his hostess, and the grave but not less kindly conversation of her husband.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE NIGHT-SCHOOL.
Jack found that, as he expected, his friends Harry Shepherd, Bill c.u.mmings, and Fred Wood, would be glad to attend a night-school, and to work in earnest; for the example of what Jack had done for himself, even so far as they knew, had excited a strong desire for improvement among them. They, however, were doubtful as to others, and agreed that it would not do to propose it in a straightforward manner, but that a good deal of careful management would be necessary.
Jack, it was arranged, should open the subject after leading up to it carefully. Harry should be the first to consent, Bill c.u.mmings was to give in his adhesion when he saw signs of wavering among the others, and Fred Wood to delay his until a moment when his coming forward would be useful.
The following Sat.u.r.day, when many of them were always together, should be the occasion, and Fred Wood was to lead up to the matter by asking Jack some questions as to the relative bigness of the earth and the sun.
Sat.u.r.day came, the lads gathered in a field which belonged to the Vaughan, and upon which a great tip of rubbish and shale was gradually encroaching. Here choosing sides they played at rounders for a couple of hours, and then flung themselves down on the gra.s.s. Some of them lighted pipes, and all enjoyed the quiet of the fine autumn evening.
Presently Fred Wood artfully fired off the questions he had prepared, which Jack answered.
”What a sight o' things thou know'st, Jack!” Bill c.u.mmings said.
”I don't know much yet, Bill, but I hopes to know a goodish deal some day.”
”And thou really lik'st reading, Jack? I hate it,” John Jordan said.
”I didn't like it ower much at first,” Jack answered, ”but as I got on I liked it more and more. I wish you chaps had the chances I had. It isn't every one who would take the pains wi' a fellow as Merton took wi' me.”
”What ud be t' good o't?” John Jordan asked. ”I doan't see no good in knowing that t' sun be a hundred thousand times as big as t' world.”
”There's use in a great deal o' what one gets to know, though,” Jack said; ”not so much now as some day, maybe. A chap as has some sort o'
edication has chances over another o' being chosen as a viewer or an oversman.”
”Oh! that's what thou be'est looking forward to, Jack, eh? Well there's summat in that, and I shouldna' wonder if we see thee that some day; but we can't all be oversmen.”
”Not in the Vaughan,” Jack said; ”but there's plenty o' other pits, and a chap as has got his head screwed on straight, and can write well and figure a bit, and have read up his work, may always look forward to getting a step up wherever he goes. Besides, look at the difference it makes to the pleasures o' life. What has a man got to do who ain't learnt to be fond o' reading? Nowt but to go to t' public to spend his evenings and drink away his earnings. So 'ee goes on, and his woife doan't care about taking pains about a house when t' maister ain't never at home but to his meals, and his children get to look for him coming home drunk and smas.h.i.+ng the things, and when he gets old he's just a broken-down drunkard, wi'out a penny saved, and nowt but the poorhouse before him. Now, that's the sort o' life o' a man who can't read, or can't read well enough to take pleasure in it, has before him. That is so, bean't it?”
There was a long silence; all the lads knew that the picture was a true one.
”Now look at t'other side,” Jack went on; ”look at Merton. He didn't get moore pay a week than a pitman does; look how he lived, how comfortable everything was! What a home that ud be for a man to go back to after his work was done! Noice furniture, a wife looking forward neat and tidy to your coming hoam for the evening. Your food all comfortable, the kids clean and neat, and delighted to see feyther home.”
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