Part 24 (2/2)
”Oh, I dinna ken, Rob, but jist thought you micht hae kent something,”
she answered evasively.
”No, I dinna ken onything at all aboot her, mither,” he said. ”If I had kent onything, dae you think I'd hae kept quiet?”
”Oh, I dinna mean that, Rob,” she replied with relief in her voice, ”but I thought that you might hae heard something. That Leezie Johnstone was in here the day, an' you ken hoo she talks. She was makin' oot that Mysie had gane wrang, and had ran awa' tae hide it.”
”Leezie Johnstone had little to do sayin' onything o' the kind,” he said with some heat in his voice. ”There never was a dirty coo in the byre but it liket a neighbor. I suppose she'll be thinkin' that a' la.s.ses were like her. These kind of folk hae dam'd strange ideas aboot things.
They get it into their heads it is wrang to do certain things when folk are no married, but the cloak of marriage flung aboot them mak's the same things richt. They hinna the brains o' a sewer rat in their noddles, the dam'd hypocrites that they are!”
”Dinna swear, Rob!” said Mrs. Sinclair, interrupting him. ”Do you ken,”
she went on, her astonishment plainly evident in her face and voice, ”that is the first time I ever heard you swear in a' my life!”
”Well, mither, I am sorry; but I couldna' help it. Folk like that get my temper up gey quick; because they get it into their heids that marriage makes them virtuous, even though they may be guilty o' greater excesses after than they were before marriage.”
”Ay, that's true, Rob!” she agreed. ”But it is a sad business a'
thegether. I wonder what has come owre the bit la.s.sie. G.o.d knows where she may be?”
But Robert was silent, and no matter how much she tried to get him to speak, he would not be drawn into conversation, but answered merely in short grunts; but she could see that he was very much disturbed at what had happened. After a few days the sensation seemed to pa.s.s from the minds of most of the villagers, who soon found something new to occupy them, in connection with their own affairs.
About this time much interest was being manifested in mining circles.
The labor movement was beginning to shape itself into solidarity towards political as well as industrial activity. Robert Smillie and the late J.
Keir Hardie, and many other tireless spirits, had succeeded in molding together the newly created labor party, infecting it with an idealism which had hitherto not been so apparent, and this work was making a deep impression upon the minds of the workers, especially among the younger men.
The Miners' Union had been linked up into national organizations; and a consolidating influence was at work molding the workers generally, and the miners particularly, imbuing them with a newer hope, a greater enthusiasm and a wider vision.
About a fortnight after the news of Mysie's disappearance, Keir Hardie paid a visit to Lowwood, and a large crowd gathered to hear him in the village hall. Smillie also was advertised to speak, and great interest was manifested, and much criticism pa.s.sed by the miners.
”I don't give in wi' this dam'd political business,” said Tam Donaldson, who was frankly critical. ”I've aye stood up for Smillie, but I dinna'
like being dragged intae this Socialist movement. A dam'd fine nest o'
robbers an' work-shy vermin. Trade Union officials should attend tae Trade Union affairs. That's what we pay them for. But it looks to me as if they were a' that dam'd busy trying to get intae Parliament, thet they hinna time to look after oor affairs.”
”I'm kind o' suspeecious aboot it mysel', Tam,” said Robert quietly, as they made their way to the hall that night. ”I'm no' sure jist yet as to what this Socialism is, it looks frae the papers to be a rotten kind o'
thing an' I'm no' on wi' it. But I'll wait an' hear what Hardie an'
Smillie say aboot it, afore a' make up my mind.”
”To h.e.l.l wi' them an' their Socialism,” said Tam with some heat. ”I want a s.h.i.+llin' or twa on my day. It's a' yin d.a.m.n to me hoo mony wives they gie me. I canna' keep the yin I hae. What the h.e.l.l wad a workin' man dae wi' three wives? An' they tell me they're goin' to abolish religion too.
Not that I'm a religious man mysel', but I'm d.a.m.n'd if I'd let them interfere wi' it. If I want religion I've a guid richt to hae it; an'
forby, if they abolish religion, hoo wad folk do wi' the funerals? I can see hoo they'll do wi' marriages, for there's to be nane. You've to get your wife changed every two-three years, an' the weans brought up by the State as they call it. But the puirhouse is a dam'd cauld step-mother, an' I'd be up against that.”
Thus discussing the subject, they reached the hall to find it packed, everyone being keen to see and hear this man, who was making such an uproar in the country with his advocacy of Socialism.
Robert was chairman, and had labored hard to prepare a few remarks with which to open the meeting. He wanted to be non-committal, and his reading and self-teaching had been of immense service to him. His mother's influence in the molding of his character, unconsciously to himself, had made his mind just the sort of soil for the quick rooting of the seed to be sown that night.
It was certainly a great occasion. Robert thought as he looked at this man, that he had never seen anyone who so typefied the spirit of independence in his bearing. His figure was straight, the eyes fearless, yet kindly and gentle; but the proud erect head, the straight stiff back which seemed to say ”I bend to no one” impressed Robert more than anything else in all his make up.
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