the centre of Thrigsby where there were still a few of
the old black and white timbered houses, some with pro-
jecting upper stories, and an old inn that must once have
stood in its own yard but now fronted a new wide street
and was overshadowed with a huge warehouse. "The
world must have been very charming in the old days, but
there were fewer people then," said Jamie.

Out of the inn came Mr. Wilcox who rushed up to
Jamie crying : "Hoo, my lad ! Good lad ! I haven't
seen you this many a long day. They could not grind
down your genius in the office so they sent you to the
mill, eh? The office is a sad place without you. I saw
you from the window : back view. I know that back, I
said to myself. Such a back had John Kemble. And
how are you?" "I'm very well," replied Jamie. ' "I
have my brothers living with me now. This is my brother
John." Mr. Wilcox held out his hand : "Welcome to
Thrigsby," he said. "I'm not Mayor, but I don't mind
speaking for the rest. Stick to your brother; he's a
tower of strength. Fortune could never resist a face
like that, not if she is the female of her usual portrait.
But I've news for you, James, my lad. Come and
have a drink on it." Jamie hesitated on account of John,
who said : "Oh, I've been in public-houses before." So



JOHN ASTONISHES THE FAMILY 117

they returned with Mr. Wilcox to the little low bar-
parlour where they sat on old trestles with their feet
fouling the sanded floors and Mr. Wilcox ordered ale
for three from the stout lady behind the counter, whom
he called Aunty. "Well," said Jamie, "what's your
news?" Mr. Wilcox burst out in a torrent of words,
speaking so fast that at first his hearers could make
nothing of his story: They gathered however that he
had left the firm. "For ever!" he said. "Not one spot
of dust from its unswept floors remains upon my boots.
A mistake was made. Thousands lost! Thousands of
golden sovereigns. It was traced, so they said, to our
room. I asked for proof. None was forthcoming. 'Seek
the responsibility elsewhere!' said I. But would they?
Not a bit of it. When there's trouble in the office, you
may have observed that it is always Peter Leslie who
is made to pay. He's got a white face, and a white liver,
and a pure white soul. He's a broken man. Child-
bearing's the cause of it. Now old Andrew knows what
men in the office he can't break, and he lets them alone.
He knows who's broken too, but he's getting old and is
losing his nose for the breakable. So this time, to run
no risks, it must be Peter. Poor old Peter! There he
stood, stiff as a poker, with a choke in his throat staring
hard at the wall in front of him. He would not, he could
not break down. He was too hard hit. Well: he's a
family man, and you know his wife, a high-stepper if
ever there was one, and I say it is the duty of the bachelor
to stand by the family man, who is always the one to be
trodden on if there is any treading to be done, and, let
me tell you, there is a damned sight too much of it in
Thrigsby. Well, that went on for a couple of days.
Not a word did Peter say: not a word passed my lips,
and you know what I am. We were in that office night



u8 THREE SONS AND A MOTHER

after night looking for that mistake an old one, mark
you, the effects of which had only just come home to the
firm. The general feeling after a bit was that whether
it was found out or not Peter was done for. I couldn't
stand that. I've been in the same room with him for
twelve years, and, damn it, the man's middle-aged and
has no thought outside the firm." "He's a very religious
man," put in Jamie. "Yes. And that makes it all the
worse for him. He'd hardly dare put his nose inside his
church if he lost his job. I could not stand it. If they
want their mistake, I said, they shall have it. It took
me two days and two nights to think out that mistake
and there it was, very difficult to trace, in one of my
ledgers. Then, I thought, if I find it myself they'll per-
haps be suspicious, because they all know I'm a fool at
the business. So I fetched in Nosey Tom and said I'd
been over and over the books until I couldn't tell my
nose from the figure nine and let him take them home
with him. Back he came in the morning as pleased as
Punch and walked straight into the old man's room. An
hour later I am sent for, told I am next door to a thief
and wholly an imbecile and unworthy of the trust which
the firm had imposed on me from the moment of my en-
tering their service as a lad. As a favour as a favour!
I was given one month's salary. Thank you for noth-
ing, I said, I have my savings and the mistake, if re-
corded in my books, did not have its origin there. Old
Andrew roared like a consumptive cow; you know what
a silly voice he has: and Nosey Tom muttered some-
thing about impudence. And then then I did the best

piece of acting in my life. I crawled back like this "

In his fiery enthusiasm Mr. Wilcox rose, crept hang-dog
to the door, went out, came in again pushing the door
slowly open. He had contrived to expel all the blood



JOHN ASTONISHES THE FAMILY 119

from his face and looked thin and shrunken. His hands
trembled and the handle of the door rattled and in a
dry whisper he croaked: "Peter ! Peter! Mr. Leslie.
It is finished. My character is gone. I am a broken
man. This room will know me no more. And I tell you
it knocked Peter all of a heap. He could not get out a
word. He was shaking and his hands were icy cold and
he clutched mine. 'God bless you! God bless you!' he
cried, and he could say nothing else but 'God bless you.' '
"God bless you, indeed," cried Jamie who had been
carried away with the story and the power of Mr. Wil-
cox's acting. "Oh ! stow it !" replied Mr. Wilcox. "It's
what I'd been wanting for the last five years." "But
who," asked John, "was Nosey Tom?" Mr. Wilcox
dropped his jaw: "I'm blowed," he answered, "blowed
if it isn't your brother." And John gave a dry little
chuckle, but Jamie, still seeing the thing as a great and
poignant drama, with Nosey Tom as the villain, almost
groaned: "God forbid!"

Mr. Wilcox took a long drink at his ale and continued :
"But that isn't my real news. I've joined the profession,
and we must have another drink on that." "Not for
John," said Jamie. "Havers !" cried John. "I'll drink
you under the table." "That's right," said Mr. Wilcox.
"Don't you be put upon. Three more, Aunty. There's
a Mr. and Mrs. Beeton from the best London theatres
coming down. She's a Terry on her father's side.
They're to have a stock company at the Theatre Royal
and I'm to be one of their comedians. Good health!
We start in a fortnight's time, and I was wondering if
you would like to write a prologue." "Surely," said
Jamie, "there are writers in Thrigsby better known than
I. At least, I mean that I am not at all known, and be-
sides, the theatre!" "If you have never been inside a



120 THREE SONS AND A MOTHER

theatre," said Mr. Wilcox, with some heat, "you have
no right to condemn it. That is what you pious folk
are always doing." "I wasn't condemning. I was only
conscious of my own ignorance." "About the only man
in the world who is," said Mr. Wilcox. "However,
think it over. I'm at the same old address. By the way,
I'm Clarence now, Mr. Clarence Wilcox. I couldn't act
under the name of Sam, could I? ... I'm off to re-
hearsal now. Richelieu: not a laugh in it. Good-bye,
sir. Good-bye, young sir ; you stick to your brother and
you won't go far wrong." He raised his hat very high
above his head, set it on again at an angle, drew on a pair
of light yellow gloves and strode out.

"Well," said Jamie, "what did you make of Mr. Wil-
cox?" "I don't know," answered John after a pause.
"There was a boy at school had a father like him and
they're as poor as church mice." He made a face.
"He's a noble character," said Jamie. "Aye, I daresay.
But he'll die poor." "What difference does it make
how you die?" "Eh! Jamie!" said John, "you wouldn't
die poor and leave a widow as Mother was left." But
Jamie was already off on thoughts of his prologue, play-
ing with the forbidden fruit. It would be a fine thing
to have words of his spoken, as Mr. Wilcox could speak
them, before an immense concourse of people. What a
power words might exert! They would go echoing
through the hearts of every man and woman there. They
would be treasured, and bring up warm grateful thoughts
of the man who had written them. And perhaps one
day, after the prologue, he would write a play a play
by a Thrigsby author before a Thrigsby audience. Wil-
cox would act in it. There should be a door in it: the
door should slowly open, upon an empty room, and a
man with a ghastly white face should open the door



JOHN ASTONISHES THE FAMILY 121

and come in trembling, trembling, afraid of what he
would see there, and his fear would grow into terror as
he realised the emptiness, and the emptiness of his own
soul. Jamie gripped his stick tight and he walked very
fast so that John could hardly keep up with him. His
thoughts raced. "Dod, Jamie," said John. "Think of
them calling our Tom Nosey !" '"Didn't you think Mr.
Wilcox a very fine actor, John?" "Pooh! what's play-
acting?" And Jamie's thoughts collapsed: "Indeed,"
he said to himself, "what is it?" "I wonder," said John,
"what they call Uncle Andrew." "I can tell you that,"
replied Jamie savagely, flying back to the story of Peter
Leslie. "They call him the Scotch turd, and you can
thank your lucky stars you've thrown your bonnet over
the windmills and gone into Murdoch's."

At home they found Margaret waiting for them : her
old fighting self, roused from the lethargy and shyness
which had settled on her since their coming to Thrigsby.
She had on her bonnet and cloak all shining with jet
beads which rattled as she spoke. "John," she said, "you
have defied my authority. I am going to take you to your
Uncle Andrew to see what you have to say to him." "I
have nothing to say to him." "We shall see that."
"And if I will not go." "Then I and your brothers will
make you go." "Not I, Mother," said Jamie. "Jamie!"

-"My father, Dr. M'Phail used to say, was a gentle
soul. He would not have forced any of us against our
wills. I have been talking to John. He is set against
the office." "Why?" "He has his reasons." "What
are they?" "I imagine," said Jamie, "they are deep-
rooted in his character." "Character! A child like
that." "Indeed, mother, in many ways he is older than
I am. He is certainly less easily deceived, and he has
made up his mind." Margaret made a show of surren-



122 THREE SONS AND A MOTHER

der but her lips shut tighter than ever. "At least/' she
said, "he owes it to your uncle to give him an explanation
and to ask him for a recommendation." "There's no
harm in that," replied Jamie, jumping at the chance of
relieving the strain and thanking Heaven that Tom was
out. >"No," said John, "I see no harm in that." So
Margaret sent him up to don his new clothes and brush
his hair and wash his neck. While he was gone she said
to Jamie : "It is natural that he should have an admira-
tion for you as his eldest brother, but you ought not to
take advantage of that to subvert my authority." Jamie
was so entirely unaware of having done any such thing
that he could find nothing to say, nor indeed did Mar-
garet seem to expect any rejoinder. She added : "It is
the first grief my sons have caused me. Please God, it
may be the last." And Jamie, prickly with distress, found
uppermost in his mind the fantastic but somehow attrac-
tive idea that Tibby was responsible for it all. He was
dimly aware of strange influences in the house driving
them on to the ways they must go, and it was extremely
pleasant to gather all these influences up into one thread
and to accuse Tibby, mentally, of witchcraft. It gave
her a characteristic personality and also prepared his
mind and spirit for any astonishments that might come.



CHAPTER XIII

CLIBRAN HALL



IT was a long journey from Murray Street to Clibran
Hall; a three-stage journey by omnibus with three
horses. The day was cold with that damp irresistible
chill of which Thrigsby possesses the peculiar secret.
There was straw to warm the feet of the passengers
and John, thrusting his feet in it, tucked his arms well
up his sleeves and composed himself for warmth against
a fat man who occupied the corner under the lamp.
Margaret disdained the straw and sat stiff and upright
under her beaded cape. The omnibus swung and creaked
and the flickering light cast strange shadows on the
faces of the travellers. "Stiring times these," said the
fat man to John. "Are they?" replied the boy. "I've
only just left school." '"Lucky to be you," said the
fat man. "You'll reap the fruits of it all." "Will
I?" asked John politely, not knowing in the least what
the man was talking about. '"Never heard John Bright
speak? Ah! Better than a play, that is. Temperance,
reform, but a sound Englishman." Margaret nudged
John, and whispered: "You should not talk to stran-
gers." "It's he's doing the talking," whispered John, and
the fat man pursued his argument: "With men like
that," he said, "we've no need of the violence and devas-
tation they have in France. If what they tell me is true,

123



124 THREE SONS AND A MOTHER

France must be a terrible country where no honest man
is safe. Now John Bright he's a sensible man, and one
sensible man is better than ten re volutions. " - The word
revolution frightened Margaret and she said: "Don't
listen to him, John." "How can I help it," muttered he,
"with him talking so near my ear?" "London," contin-
ued the fat man, "has got to heed what we say in the
North. We're the backbone of the country and entitled
to a voice. We're the brains of the country and Lon-
don's the belly. Look at the map if it isn't so. England's
narrow at the top and broad at the bottom, the bum I
might say, to put it bluntly. Where are the brains ? At
the top. But you should hear John Bright. He's speak-
ing to-morrow." "Where?" asked John. "At the Coal
Exchange. I can give you a ticket." He unbuttoned his
enormous overcoat and produced a bulging pocket-book
from which he took a ticket. This he pressed into John's
hand. "Like a ticket, ma'am ? Better than a play." But
Margaret stared frigidly out of the window. "He's a
God-fearing man, and none of your atheists." "Then,"
said Margaret, "if he fears God, why does he not put
his trust in Him and not go disturbing the people ?"-
With considerable emotion the fat man replied : "To save
them from the Godless, madam, and to save them from
themselves." As he uttered this fervent sentiment the
omnibus drew up. They had reached the first stage and
were to change. In the second omnibus the fat man
again took up the corner under the lamp, but Margaret
kept John by the doorway though it was bitterly cold
there. Two other men entered and were presently drawn
into conversation by the fat man who recommended them
to hear John Bright and gave them tickets. John listened
intently to their conversation and was kindled to a glow
to hear of riots and fighting on the Continent, and dis-



CLIBRAN HALL 125



turbances in London. '"There'll be none of that," said
the fat man, "when John Bright gets his way. Quaker
stock, he is, the good English breed, that showed King
George in America what they were made of. No Ger-
man nonsense for them. Good, honest, North country
manufacturing stock he is, and that's the stock the coun-
try's got to look to." "Cobden's my man," said one of
the others and they fell to a furious discussion of the
merits of the two men. "The way I look at it is this,"
said one of the controversialists. "We're making all this
trade. Government won't help us, that's certain." "We
don't want Government help," said the fat man. "No,
all we want is not to be hampered by the Government.
If these men won't see reason, we must have our own
men in." John began to think: "I'll be a Parliament
man before I've done. I'll go to hear John Bright."

Margaret had ceased to pay any attention to these
trivial political matters and was conning her address to
Andrew, plotting how she could get him alone without
her obstinate errant son. Meanwhile John pursued his
ambitions : in ten years a partner in Murdoch's ; in fifteen
married to a wife, with money, perhaps Miss Murdoch:
in twenty a Parliament man, and later Lord Carsphairn.
"Don't forget," said the fat man, "John Bright speaks
in the Coal Exchange." "I'll not forget," said John.
"My name's John too." "John what?" asked the fat
man. "John Lawrie." "That's a good name. Make it
Honest John." -"John Lawrie, M.P.," thought John,
catching sight of his face in the window of the omnibus.
As mirrored there it was rather interesting: a large
white brow, great melancholy eyes and a little sensitive
mouth and chin. "Has John Bright got a beard?"
thought John, and, unknown to himself, he thought aloud.
"Put those wicked thoughts from your head," said



126 THREE SONS AND A MOTHER

Margaret. "John Bright is an agitator and a disturber
of the Queen's peace." "I don't suppose," said John
with a thrilling flash of wit and insight, "I don't suppose
the Queen has ever heard of him." "The Queen," re-
plied Margaret, "is the best of women and hears of
everything." "She eats chicken-bones with her fingers,"
said John, "and her real name is Mrs. Guelph." Mar-
garet would have protested against such light disloyalty
but that they had come to the second stage and must de-
scend. The fat man got out also, once more reminded
John of his undertaking, touched the brim of his hat,
and walked swiftly away with a lightness of foot aston-
ishing in a man of his bulk.

No third omnibus appeared. They waited nearly half-
an-hour for it but at last decided that they must walk.
"Perhaps," said Margaret, "your uncle will send us back
in his carriage." "Pigs might fly," thought John, but he
said nothing and walked on just a little ahead of his
mother. When they were near Clibran Hall but not yet
within sight of it they began to hear a roar of voices,
that might be shouting or singing, and growing louder
and louder. Men, women and boys hurried past them
and soon behind them they heard the clatter of horses'
hoofs and a company of soldiers went swiftly by, turned
down a side road and disappeared in the darkness. "We
must hurry," said Margaret, "and take refuge in your
uncle's house or we'd best turn back." >"If there's any-
thing in the wind," replied John, "I'll see what it is. I'll
see you safe to Uncle Andrew's." As they turned the
corner they came in sight of an immense crowd of people
gathered round an omnibus from which the horses were
taken. On the top of this were three men who were
haranguing the crowd, with much waving of arms and
swaying of their bodies. A strange light was thrown on



CLIBRAN HALL 127



the scene by torches and the crowd swelled and heaved
as new members came to it. It was impossible to hear
what was said. John and his mother were in the crowd
before they realised that it was outside Clibran Hall and
then it was impossible for them to turn back. They kept
to the wall of the garden, Margaret gazing with disgust
and scorn at the crowd, John tingling with excitement
and straining to hear, but he could make nothing out.
And suddenly the crowd broke as though it had burst
and went surging up the garden to the door of Clibran
Hall. John caught his mother in his arms and held her
in front of him so that he carried her weight and pro-
tected her. They were borne along by the wall, through
the awful press in the gateway and half-way up the drive
when they managed to slip out into the garden. Stones
began to fly and windows crashed. The noise of that
seemed to satisfy the crowd more than their own for
they were almost silent, except for the grunting and
swearing of those still being thrust through the gate.
"Let us go by the back way," whispered Margaret, trem-
bling in her son's arms. "In a while," answered John.
"I want to see this out. I wonder will they fire the
house." "Oh! John! John!" "Deed," said he, "it would
be a grand sight." The crowd began to cry : "Cat Lane !
Cat Lane! Right of way! Right of way!" Another
window went crash, but by the sound of it the shutters
were closed. One of the leaders went up to the front
door and banged upon it with the knocker. "What do
they want?" cried Margaret, the beads on her bonnet rat-
tling. '"I can't tell," replied John, "but they're not doing
all this for fun." The hammering at the door went on,
until at last it was opened. The crowd was hushed and
John, caught up in the excitement, shivered and then
gasped as Tom came out and stood very white and



128 THREE SONS AND A MOTHER

determined-looking under the flickering- light in the
porch. "Who's yon?" cried a voice. "Where's t'owd
badger?"

One of the leaders ran up into the porch (for the
crowd had fallen back as the door opened), and he and
Tom talked together. Tom's remarks seemed to give
satisfaction, for words were passed down into the crowd,
which began at once to disperse. John heard a man say :
"We've won. He'll build." And another asked : "Aye,
but what'll he build?" There was some singing and
cheering which became wild hooting as the clatter of
hoofs was heard out in the road and the soldiers went
by at a trot, exchanging chaff and banter with the rioters.
Soon the garden was empty. John was disappointed.
"I'd thought," he said, "it was going to be like the taking
of the Bastille." "Your uncle," observed Margaret,
"would be just." "I wonder why he sent Tom and
what Tom was doing there and what it was all about.
I'd have made a speech if I'd been he." For John's
thoughts were still running on John Bright.

Margaret insisted that she would not go without see-
ing Andrew, though John tried to point, out that he
would not want to see them after such an evening's ex-
citement. "He'll be feeling a strong man," said she.
"Dod!" cried John, "he'll be shivering in his cellar."

They were ushered into the library where they found
Andrew, in his dressing-gown, drinking a strong whisky
toddy, and Tom, very excited, though subduing his feel-
ings, still telling what had happened. Margaret com-
miserated her brother and abused the rabble. '"Obsti-
nacy!" said Andrew, "stupid obstinacy! Where would
they be without me, I should like to know ? Who knows
best what is good for them ? All that fuss and my win-
dows smashed because of a row of filthy cottages and



CLIBRAN HALL 129



a dirty alley leading from an ash-pit to a slag-heap."
"Of course !" said Margaret, "y u know best. You have
the brains to see what they do not see." "So I say,"
said her brother. "So I say again and again. Is the
town to have a future or is it not? And if I and men
like me do not look after its future, who will ? The poli-
ticians I suppose and the Town Council who think of
nothing but votes. They think because they've lived
in a place for twenty years they must live there for ever,
regardless of the expansion of the town's industries.
What does it matter where they live, so long as they have
factories to work in? Hum! Hum!" Very savagely
he bobbed his head down into his glass. "Drunken,
lecherous topers! Look at the birth-rate. There'll be
no food for them to eat soon." "We were caught in
the crowd," said Margaret. "Indeed," grunted Andrew,
"and what brought you here at this time of night?" '"It
is my boy John. He has insisted on leaving school and
has, against my will, taken a post at Murdoch's." An-
drew swung round and fixed John with his eye: "Mur-
doch's ? Why Murdoch's?" "They they wanted some-
one," stuttered John. "Did you tell them you were my
-er connection?" "I did not." "Hum!" "I want
you to forbid it, Andrew," said Margaret. Andrew drew
himself up: "If a young man dares to think that he
knows best what is good for him, let him. Let him find
out his mistake." And that was all he would say in the
matter. He ignored his sister's remarks and would not
even look at John, who felt ashamed, miserable and con-
trite. It was his fault that his mother was so humiliated
and he wanted to withdraw his resolution, but Andrew
silenced him when he gasped and gurgled inarticulately,
by tapping with his foot on the floor. Tom meanwhile
stood by the fireplace staring over their heads at the



130 THREE SONS AND A MOTHER

print of The Industrious Apprentice which hung on the
wall opposite to him. John hated him. Margaret was
silenced at last. Not a word was spoken for twenty-three
minutes by the clock. John glared at Tom and said
under his breath : "The fish ! The clammy glue-blooded