from Mrs. Westmore that she wished to see me this evening.”
It was the wrong note, and he knew it; but he had been unable to conceal his sense of the vague current of opposition in the air.
“Quite so: I believe she asked you to come,” Mr. Tredegar assented, laying his hands together vertically, and surveying Amherst above the acute angle formed by his parched finger-tips. As he leaned back, small, dry, dictatorial, in the careless finish of his evening dress and pearl-studded shirt-front, his appearance put the finishing touch to Amherst’s irritation. He felt the incongruousness of his rough clothes in this atmosphere of after-dinner ease, the mud on his walking-boots, the clinging cotton-dust which seemed to have entered into the very pores of the skin; and again his annoyance escaped in his voice.
“Perhaps I have come too early—” he began; but Mr. Tredegar interposed with glacial amenity: “No, I believe you are exactly on time; but Mrs. Westmore is unexpectedly detained. The fact is, Mr. and Mrs. Halford Gaines are dining with her, and she has delegated to me the duty of hearing what you have to say.”
Amherst hesitated. His impulse was to exclaim: “There is no duty about it!” but a moment’s thought showed the folly of thus throwing up the game. With the prospect of Truscomb’s being about again in a day or two, it might well be that this was his last chance of reaching Mrs. Westmore’s ear; and he was bound to put his case while he could, irrespective of personal feeling. But his disappointment was too keen to be denied, and after a pause he said: “Could I not speak with Mrs. Westmore later?”
Mr. Tredegar’s cool survey deepened to a frown. The young man’s importunity was really out of proportion to what he signified. “Mrs. Westmore has asked me to replace her,” he said, putting his previous statement more concisely.
“Then I am not to see her at all?” Amherst exclaimed; and the lawyer replied indifferently: “I am afraid not, as she leaves tomorrow.”
Mr. Tredegar was in his element when refusing a favour. Not that he was by nature unkind; he was, indeed, capable of a cold beneficence; but to deny what it was in his power to accord was the readiest way of proclaiming his authority, that power of loosing and binding which made him regard himself as almost consecrated to his office.
Having sacrificed to this principle, he felt free to add as a gratuitous concession to politeness: “You are perhaps not aware that I am Mrs. Westmore’s lawyer, and one of the executors under her husband’s will.”
He dropped this negligently, as though conscious of the absurdity of presenting his credentials to a subordinate; but his manner no longer incensed Amherst: it merely strengthened his resolve to sink all sense of affront in the supreme effort of obtaining a hearing.
“With that stuffed canary to advise her,” he reflected, “there’s no hope for her unless I can assert myself now”; and the unconscious wording of his thought expressed his inward sense that Bessy Westmore stood in greater need of help than her work-people.
Still he hesitated, hardly knowing how to begin. To Mr. Tredegar he was no more than an underling, without authority to speak in his superior’s absence; and the lack of an official warrant, which he could have disregarded in appealing to Mrs. Westmore, made it hard for him to find a good opening in addressing her representative. He saw, too, from Mr. Tredegar’s protracted silence, that the latter counted on the effect of this embarrassment, and was resolved not to minimize it by giving him a lead; and this had the effect of increasing his caution.
He looked up and met the lawyer’s eye. “Mrs. Westmore,” he began, “asked me to let her know something about the condition of the people at the mills–-“
Mr. Tredegar raised his hand. “Excuse me,” he said. “I understood from Mrs. Westmore that it was you who asked her permission to call this evening and set forth certain grievances on the part of the operatives.”
Amherst reddened. “I did ask her—yes. But I don’t in any sense represent the operatives. I simply wanted to say a word for them.”
Mr. Tredegar folded his hands again, and crossed one lean little leg over the other, bringing into his line of vision the glossy tip of a patent-leather pump, which he studied for a moment in silence.
“Does Mr. Truscomb know of your intention?” he then enquired.
“No, sir,” Amherst answered energetically, glad that he had forced the lawyer out of his passive tactics. “I am here on my own responsibility—and in direct opposition to my own interests,” he continued with a slight smile. “I know that my proceeding is quite out of order, and that I have, personally, everything to lose by it, and in a larger way probably very little to gain; but I thought Mrs. Westmore’s attention ought to be called to certain conditions at the mills, and no one else seemed likely to speak of them.”
“May I ask why you assume that Mr. Truscomb will not do so when he has the opportunity?”
Amherst could not repress a smile. “Because it is owing to Mr. Truscomb that they exist.”
“The real object of your visit then,” said Mr. Tredegar, speaking with deliberation, “is—er—an underhand attack on your manager’s methods?”
Amherst’s face darkened, but he kept his temper. “I see nothing especially underhand in my course–-“
“Except,” the other interposed ironically, “that you have waited to speak till Mr. Truscomb was not in a position to defend himself.”
“I never had the chance before. It was at Mrs. Westmore’s own suggestion that I took her over the mills, and feeling as I do I should have thought it cowardly to shirk the chance of pointing out to her the conditions there.”
Mr. Tredegar mused, his eyes still bent on his gently-oscillating foot. Whenever a sufficient pressure from without parted the fog of self-complacency in which he moved, he had a shrewd enough outlook on men and motives; and it may be that the vigorous ring of Amherst’s answer had effected this momentary clearing of the air.
At any rate, his next words were spoken in a more accessible tone. “To what conditions do you refer?”
“To the conditions under which the mill-hands work and live—to the whole management of the mills, in fact, in relation to the people employed.”
“That is a large question. Pardon my possible ignorance—” Mr. Tredegar paused to make sure that his hearer took in the full irony of this—“but surely in this state there are liability and inspection laws for the protection of the
