IV
 
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 of
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 AN ATONEMENT 
 BILLY BOTCH 
 HANGING HIS HAT UP 
 GIVING A MAN AWAY 
 TATTY ENTWISTLE'S RETURN 
 COALS OF FIRE 
 THE KNOCKER-UP . 
 FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE— 
 I. THE DILEMMA 
 
 II. THE DENOUEMENT 
 "bullet" PIE 
 A DIPLOMATIC REVERSE . 
 VAULTING AMBITION — 
 
 I. THE O'ERLEAPING 
 
 II. ALIGHTING 
 THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE— 
 
 I. "WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK" 
 
 II. "TO BE, OR NOT TO BE" 
 
 III. "OF HIS NECESSITY" 
 
 IV. RAISING THE WIND 
 V. AT LAST ! . 
 
 9 
 29 
 
 57 
 83 
 
 lOI 
 
 123 
 141 
 
 161 
 179 
 
 195 
 215 
 
 253 
 
 273 
 291 
 
 307 
 327 
 347
 
 An Atonement
 
 An Atonement 
 
 When " Barbary " Royle returned to Beckside 
 to live, it was generally understood that she had 
 had a misfortune, but that as it was something 
 for which she was more to be pitied than blamed 
 no person with any " dacency " would ever think 
 of making inquiries about it. Besides, every- 
 body knew everything about everybody else in 
 Beckside, and if they only waited Barbara would 
 " tell " of herself. 
 
 But she never did. And nothing could be 
 gathered from the little girl she brought back 
 with her, who reminded the old people so much 
 of the Barbara of long ago. 
 
 She had lived in a big place a long way off, 
 she said. Her mother had told her that she 
 had a " daddy," but she had never seen him, 
 and she was called Royle like her mother — and 
 that was all that could be elicited. 
 
 " When a child's cawd after its muther," 
 
 drawled Long Ben, picking a chip out of 
 
 the Clog Shop fire and lighting his pipe 
 
 with it, " there's summat wrong wi' its fayther 
 
 and "— 
 
 11
 
 12 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 " If all t' childer i' Beckside as had faythers 
 wi' summat wrung abaat 'em had to be renamed 
 after their muthers," interrupted old Jabe the 
 dogger, lifting a very red face from over a dis- 
 abled clog, " there'd be a bonny christenin' at 
 yo'r haase." 
 
 " An' I tell thee summat else," he continued, 
 rising to his feet and brandishing a well-worn 
 knife ; " if t' mon as talked abaat puncing a 
 chap when he wor daan 'ad cum to Beckside 
 he'd find them as 'ud do it to a woman." 
 
 Jabe's rejoinder being unusually fierce, even 
 for him, it was clear that he disapproved of 
 curiosity in this direction, and that the subject 
 had better be dropped. 
 
 Dropped at the Clog Shop, it was soon 
 dropped everywhere else, for that establishment 
 and its proprietor were the centres of public 
 opinion in the village. 
 
 Beckside scarcely was a village ; it was just 
 two or three clusters of cottages, dotted here 
 and there with bigger buildings stationed on 
 the left slope of the clough, having a little 
 Methodist chapel at one end of it and a mill 
 at the other. There was no street in the 
 village, the road that ran slantwise down to 
 the Beck-bridge at the bottom of the clough 
 and up again towards Knob Top, as the farm 
 on the opposite side of the clough was called, 
 being the only provision of the nature of 
 streetage which Beckside possessed.
 
 AN ATONEMENT 13 
 
 The Clog Shop stood on the left, just past 
 the chapel, at the point where the road turned 
 down towards the Beck, so that it commanded 
 a full view of the road right down to the 
 bridge, and it was the main object in sight 
 when you came up the road from the bridge. 
 The Clog Shop itself was merely a lean-to 
 standing against the end of Jabe's cottage, 
 and having a big window facing the road, and 
 a little one looking into the garden behind. 
 The fireplace stood with its back to the 
 cottage. Though of comparatively modern 
 construction it was very ancient in style, and 
 was as nearly like an oldtime ingle-nook as 
 the imagination of Jabe and the ingenuity of 
 the local builder could produce. The remains 
 of two or three clog-benches and two long, low 
 stools provided the furniture of this primitive, 
 cosy corner, which was all the year round, and 
 almost all the day long, occupied either by 
 customers who waited for clogs that were being 
 " spetched," or by old Becksiders, to whom it 
 served as club-room and hotel. 
 
 Jabe himself was a bachelor and a confirmed 
 woman-hater. His apprentice for the time 
 being was usually both cook and housemaid, 
 except when Aunt Judy came in to " fettle 
 up." " Independent o' boath men and women," 
 Jabe used to say, with a tremendous emphasis 
 on the " and." 
 
 Jabe had a short leg and a long one, the
 
 14 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 shorter one being used as a sort of indicator 
 of feeling, much in the same way as a dog 
 uses his tail, and the sudden jerking out of 
 the abbreviated member and its being flung 
 violently over the other was taken as an un- 
 failing sign that something was coming. 
 
 Barbara Royle had been one of Jabe's special 
 trials in days gone by. A laughing, teasing, 
 black-eyed beauty who, even after her conver- 
 sion, was suspected of " carrying on " with the 
 lads, she would come into the Clog Shop to 
 have her clog mended as demurely as she went 
 to class, except that she was usually humming 
 some popular Sunday School tune. 
 
 " I want to be an angel," she was murmuring 
 on one of these occasions whilst Jabe put on 
 her clog iron. 
 
 " Ay, but ther'll ha' to be a vast change if 
 iver th'art an angel, wench," said Jabe. 
 
 And there had been a change. Barbara had 
 gone away from Beckside, and was supposed 
 to be doing well in a distant town. Suddenly, 
 however, she had returned — a sad-eyed, shrink- 
 ing woman, whose every action proclaimed that 
 she wanted to be let alone. 
 
 " Goa when th'art axed," Jabe said to those 
 who " thowt o' cawin' on her," but as Barbara 
 never asked anybody they had to be content 
 as they were. Jabe himself was strongly sus- 
 pected of having been to see Barbary, for 
 Peter Twist, bending his head down as he sat
 
 AN ATONEMENT 15 
 
 in the nook and speaking under his breath 
 whilst Jabe served a customer, communicated 
 to two or three of the " chaps " that owd Jabe 
 had been to him to speak for a " couple o' 
 looms " for Barbara, and that when he came he 
 " looked as if he'd been skriking." 
 
 So Barbara was allowed to settle down 
 quietly among her own. She had no near 
 relatives. The more distant ones had known 
 little about her whilst she was away, and kept 
 carefully aloof when she returned, and so she 
 and her child were allowed to follow their 
 own devices and settle in a small cottage down 
 by the Beck-bridge. 
 
 Except to gratify their curiosity, the Beck- 
 side women had taken no interest in Barbara, 
 and only showed their nature by a character- 
 istic hardness to one who had seen misfortune. 
 Some of them, indeed, owed her a grudge of 
 long standing for her flirting triumphs of other 
 days, and affected to be astonished when Jabe 
 received her as a full member of his " class." 
 
 " Barbary Ryle's Barbary Ryle," said Aunt 
 Judy, who, in virtue of her relationship to Jabe, 
 was a sort of a leader of opinion amongst the 
 women ; " Barbary Ryle's Barbary Ryle, an' if 
 hoo isna settin' her cap a sumbry afore hoo's 
 bin here mony wik my name's not Judy 
 Jabe." 
 
 As a matter of fact this was not Mrs. Judy's 
 name at all. She had been married for a few
 
 i6 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 months only, and as her late husband had been 
 nobody in particular, people had never got into 
 the habit of calling her by his name. Surnames 
 were always somewhat of a difficulty in Beck- 
 side. In most cases they were superfluous, and 
 were also considered to be pretentious, and so 
 in the nature of things it came about that Aunt 
 Judy became known as Judy Jabe — the Judy 
 of Jabe. 
 
 Whether Barbara ever heard of Judy's pre- 
 diction or not, she seemed to take particular 
 pains to avoid the society of men, and when 
 Ned Royle, the new overlooker, came to the 
 mill, and Aunt Judy and her gossips were 
 " sartin sure " she'd try to catch him, they were 
 perplexed to find that Barbara avoided Ned 
 even more carefully than she did other men. 
 
 Ned turned out to be a Methodist, and one 
 Monday night went to the prayer - meeting. 
 He must have been a little early, for the room 
 was empty. Presently the door opened, and 
 Barbara entered. But she stopped suddenly, 
 turned deadly pale, and, wheeling round, nearly 
 flew down the chapel flags. 
 
 Long Ben met her rushing away, and de- 
 clared over the Clog Shop fire that night that it 
 was a " regular queer do." " Aw seed her go 
 in, and Aw seed her come aat, and hoo' looked 
 as if hoo'd seen a boggart ; and when Aw geet 
 inta th' vestry, theer wor Ned lookin' moar like 
 a boggart nor even Barbary did."
 
 AN ATONEMENT 17 
 
 Ned Royle was something of a mystery. 
 The fact that he bore the same surname as 
 Barbara attracted no attention, for Royle was 
 the commonest surname in the district. Nobody 
 seemed to know where the new overlooker came 
 from, although a slight difference in his " twang " 
 made it clear that he was not of Beckside 
 origin. The " super " had told Jabe that he 
 had received a note of removal for Ned, and 
 that he had been a Sunday School teacher. 
 At the mill he was regarded somewhat sus- 
 piciously, as he had introduced several useful 
 but very unpopular changes. The fact that 
 he was a teetotaler was against him, and his 
 neglect of the flagrant weed disfranchised him 
 as far as the Clog Shop Club was concerned. 
 
 He had joined the Sunday School, of which 
 Jabe was perpetual superintendent. Ned 
 showed, however, a most decided preference 
 for teaching girls, but as such a thing was 
 only allowed in cases of emergency, his oppor- 
 tunities did not occur very often. However, he 
 was soon immensely popular with the " little 
 wenches," and at tea-parties foraged for them 
 in the provision room, and waited upon them 
 with untiring zeal. His special favourite was 
 little Emmie Royle, Barbara's daughter. The 
 women said he was simply kind to the child to 
 get at the mother — an opinion openly denied, 
 but privately accepted by Jabe. 
 
 When, however, one dark Sunday afternoon
 
 i8 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 as school was " loosing," and Jabe was limping 
 home a little behind the rest, he saw little 
 Emmie in front of him, and was just noticing 
 how she walked " straight " like her mother, 
 when he saw a man start out of a " ginnell," 
 snatch Emmie up in his arms, kiss and hug her 
 passionately, and then, putting her tenderly 
 down again, hurry away in Jabe's direction. 
 Jabe was excited, and had just prepared a hot 
 blast for this offender when, meeting him face 
 to face, he discovered it was Ned Royle, and 
 that tears were in the man's eyes, and he was 
 visibly agitated. 
 
 Jabe's gruff" " 'Ow do " in return to Ned's 
 salutation was evidently intended to be ad- 
 dressed to the pole-star, judging by the direc- 
 tion in which he looked as he uttered it. And 
 the following evening over the Clog Shop fire, 
 Jabe, whilst not making the slightest reference 
 to what he had seen, expressed a very decided 
 opinion that " Yon mon 'as had childer of his 
 own some time." 
 
 About this time the mill began to run 
 short-time, and eventually stopped altogether. 
 Trade was bad, and hard times were come 
 again. Considerable surprise was expressed in 
 Beckside that Barbara Royle, one of the newest 
 of the weavers, should be almost the last to be 
 stopped, and the women folk took it as another 
 sign that Ned was " after " Barbara. 
 
 Jabe suppressed all murmurings in his pres-
 
 AN ATONEMENT 19 
 
 ence by quoting the text about the widow and 
 the fatherless. 
 
 " Widow, indeed," sniffed Mary Meadows, an 
 angular, hard - faced old weaver of grasping 
 habits. " Hoo's as mitch a widow as " — 
 
 But Jabe had jumped to his feet, and was 
 kicking aside a small heap of clog tops which 
 had accumulated around his bench as if he 
 wanted to get at the speaker, and the look on 
 his face was so threatening that Mary forgot to 
 pay for her new heel irons in her haste to depart. 
 
 It was noticed also by the members of the 
 Clog Shop Club, and by several quite ordinary 
 people as well, that Ned Royle, who had 
 nobody to keep but himself, was one of the 
 first to feel the pinch of the stoppage. What 
 made it more perplexing was that Ned was 
 commonly supposed to have declined at least 
 two offers of work since the mill stopped, either 
 of which was better than his present situation. 
 The widow with whom he lodged told Sam 
 Speck, who, of course, told all the Clog Shop 
 cronies that Ned Royle was " fair clemmin' 
 hissel'," which reminded Long Ben that the 
 " super " had lately dropped into the habit of 
 calling Ned Mister Edward, — Jabe being the 
 only person in the Methodist Society at Beck- 
 side who was considered entitled to be called 
 Mister, even by the superintendent minister. 
 
 The Leaders' Meeting at Beckside was also 
 mystified by the fact that the minister always
 
 20 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 prevented them sending any help during these 
 bad times to Barbara Royle, assuring them 
 with a confidence which greatly excited curiosity 
 that she was amply provided for. And indeed 
 it seemed so, for Barbara was in fact a liberal 
 contributor to the needs of the poor, and might 
 often be seen coming from cottages where 
 poverty was known to exist. 
 
 Then the dreaded smallpox came to Beck- 
 side, and in a few days poverty was lost sight 
 of in the presence of this more terrifying foe. 
 In a short time half the houses in the hamlet 
 had patients in them. Then, although the 
 welcome news came that the mill was to be 
 restarted, nothing could be done for lack of 
 hands, and strangers would not come near. 
 
 The doctor's assistant from Brogden came to 
 live in the place until the plague was over, and 
 the Methodist superintendent was to be seen 
 in Beckside every day. Beyond these no 
 stranger was to be met with. The postman 
 had caught the disease and died, and no one 
 could be got to regularly take his place. 
 Vehicles, instead of driving through Beckside, 
 made a detour of nearly two miles round by 
 Stanger Bottom. 
 
 A heavy, oppressive silence hung over the 
 place, broken only by the sound of Long Ben's 
 hammer as he worked almost night and day 
 making coffins. The Clog Shop became a sort 
 of relief committee - room, where the self-
 
 AN ATONEMENT 21 
 
 appointed committee - men sat all day long 
 discussing the situation, and fumigating them- 
 selves with tobacco. 
 
 A peculiarity of the epidemic was that in 
 Beckside, at anyrate, it was commonest amongst 
 the women, and so many other women were 
 needed to nurse them that a petticoat was 
 scarcely ever seen out of doors during the 
 visitation. 
 
 " Has ta yerd as Barbary's little wench has 
 getten it ? " asked Long Ben, opening the Clog 
 Shop door one morning, and standing with one 
 hand on the latch, whilst the other held a piece 
 of the now too familiar oak. 
 
 " Nay sure ! " exclaimed Jabe, and putting 
 on his big spectacles he came to the shop-door, 
 and stared down the street towards Barbara's 
 cottage, as if a sight of that building would 
 help him to realise what he had just heard. 
 
 As Jabe and Long Ben stood gazing down 
 the road the minister came round the corner. 
 
 " Moor trubbel, moor trubbel, sir," said Jabe, 
 giving the minister's hand a grip which made 
 him wince. 
 
 " Who now ? " asked the minister, with a 
 jaded look. 
 
 "Little Emmie; Barbary's Emmie, you 
 know," said Jabe. 
 
 " Ay, and her mother too," said Aunt Judy, 
 as she passed into Jabe's house, on one of her 
 occasional " fettlin' up doos."
 
 22 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 " Booath on 'em ? " exclaimed Jabe and Ben 
 together. 
 
 " Ay, booath on 'em. An', O Lord, who's 
 to noss 'em," and poor, hard old Judy actually 
 uttered something which would pass for a sob. 
 
 The minister took refuge in his pocket- 
 handkerchief. Long Ben undisguisedly wept, 
 and Jabe, looking down at Barbara's pest- 
 smitten cottage, blinked his eager eyes with a 
 most suspicious rapidity. 
 
 " Well, something must be done," said the 
 minister, with a sort of gasp in his voice. 
 " I'll go and see." 
 
 " The Lord goa wi' you," said Jabe, " but 
 there isn't a woman i' t' place as can noss 
 em. 
 
 " The minister started on his errand, and 
 Jabe went back to his clog-bench. 
 
 " Jabe ! Jabe ! does ta see this ? " It was 
 Long Ben again, and his face had a scared 
 look as he held open the door. 
 
 Jabe was at his side as fast as a long leg 
 and a short one could carry him, and, follow- 
 ing the direction of Ben's eyes, he saw Ned 
 Royle standing at Barbara's door. 
 
 " He met th' minister goin' daan," said 
 Ben, " an' as soon as he spok' to him Ned 
 set off towart Barbary's. Then he stopt as 
 if he wor feart, and then he started again, and 
 theer he is." 
 
 " Why doesn't he goa in ? " asked Jabe.
 
 AN ATONEMENT 23 
 
 " Hew con he goa in, an' 'im a single mon ? 
 — see thee ! see thee ! He is goin' in." And, 
 to the utter amazement of both, Ned, after 
 hesitating some time and knocking repeatedly, 
 gently put his hand on the latch, opened the 
 door, and passed inside. 
 
 Ned's hand trembled, and his face was 
 white and set as he went in. The room he 
 entered was neatly furnished and spotlessly 
 clean, but the fire was out and the room 
 uninhabited. Ned saw nothing. His head 
 was down and his breath was coming short 
 and fast. 
 
 " Barbary, mun I cum in ? " he asked, with- 
 out looking up, but there was no answer. 
 Ned tried again, but without success. Then 
 he raised his head, looked about him, and 
 finally glancing round at a narrow, much- 
 bescrubbed and uncarpeted staircase in the 
 corner behind the door, he stepped towards it 
 and timidly ascended. He knocked again 
 when he reached the bedroom door. 
 
 " Come in," said a faint voice, and Ned with 
 a trembling hand pushed open the door. He 
 did not move, however, but looked wistfully 
 towards the pink and white bed curtains 
 behind which Barbara and little Emmie lay, 
 he said in a humble pleading voice — 
 
 " It's me, Barbary, mun I cum in ? " 
 
 No answer ; only the occupants of the bed 
 seemed to have suddenly stopped breathing.
 
 24 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 " Barbary ! Barbary ! let me cum in, will 
 ta?" 
 
 Still no answer, and at last Ned stepped 
 into the middle of the room. 
 
 " Barbary ! " he said, " I dunnot ask thee to 
 forgive me, but let me noss thee an' Emmie 
 till you're better, and then I'll goa away if tha 
 wants me." 
 
 There was a sudden movement in the bed, 
 and one of the occupants turned her face 
 toward the wall and began to sob. 
 
 Ned moved gently nearer. Then he ten- 
 derly pushed aside the curtains, and the next 
 moment he had taken the plague - stricken 
 woman in his arms and was covering her 
 fevered face with kisses. 
 
 " Does ta forgive me ? Does ta, Barbary ? " 
 gasped Ned. 
 
 " Ay, lad ! " was the reply slowly and faintly 
 spoken, and then the stricken woman laid her 
 head on Ned's shoulder, and broke out into 
 long sobs of relief. 
 
 " Goa away, Ned ; yo' shouldn't do that. 
 Yo'll catch it," said little Emmie from the 
 other side of the bed. 
 
 " Come here, Emmie," said Barbara from 
 her pillow on the man's broad breast. " Come 
 here, wench ; this is thi faytJierr 
 
 When the minister returned to the Clog
 
 AN ATONEMENT 25 
 
 Shop, he found Jabe and Long Ben in rather 
 heated discussion. 
 
 " Haa does ta know as theayre worn't 
 sumbry [somebody] else theer?" Jabe was 
 saying, " an' if tha objects why doesn't tha 
 goa thisell ? " 
 
 •' Haa con Aw goa wi' yon childer i' t' haase ? " 
 retorted Ben. 
 
 " Brethren," said the minister, drawing the 
 remains of a disused clog-bench near the fire, 
 " I should like to explain this matter to you. 
 Ned Royle is where he has the best right to 
 be, for he is Barbara's husband." 
 
 Jabe and his chum looked at each other in 
 amazement. 
 
 " They were married at Duxbury," the 
 minister went on, " and were very happy until 
 Ned took to drinking. He is of a very ex- 
 citable nature, though you wouldn't think it 
 from the quietness of his conduct since he 
 came here. One night, after having endured 
 much provocation, Barbara spoke sharply to 
 him. A quarrel followed, and eventually Ned, 
 losing all control of himself, made a most 
 violent assault upon his wife, and even in his 
 frenzy threw cradle and baby into the street. 
 The magistrates took a serious view of the 
 case, and sent Ned to prison for some months. 
 
 " He came out of prison a changed man, 
 and went right away home to ask Barbara's 
 forgiveness. But she had gone, and no one
 
 26 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 knew where. Ned guessing that she had gone 
 to her native village, and feeling with in- 
 creasing remorse the blackness of his own 
 conduct, gave up the idea of finding his wife 
 and went away to a distance and got work. 
 Then he got converted at one of our Mis- 
 sions, and engaged himself in good Christian 
 work. 
 
 " But his heart was aching for his wife and 
 child, and so hearing of the vacancy at the 
 mill here, he applied for the situation, feeling 
 that though he had forfeited all right to the 
 love of wife and child he would still watch 
 over their welfare, and perhaps some day win 
 back their affection. He has never spoken to 
 Barbara until to-day — except in connection 
 with the work at the mill, and then in the 
 fewest possible words ; but just before the bad 
 times he bought the house in which Barbara 
 lives, and Barbara has been very much puzzled 
 because old Croppy, the Brogden rent-collector, 
 refused to take any more rent, and told her 
 she must wait until the landlord asked for it. 
 
 " During the bad times Ned kept Barbara 
 well supplied with money, and has in many 
 ways secretly furthered her interests. As soon 
 as the smallpox appeared, he came to me with 
 a proposal for getting his wife and child out of 
 the place, but Barbara refused to move, and 
 now he has broken the ice and gone home to 
 nurse them."
 
 AN ATONEMENT 27 
 
 When the minister finished there was a long 
 silence in the Clog Shop, broken only by a 
 sudden falling together of the chips in the fire. 
 
 " That's wot I calls Ned's Atonement," said 
 Jabe at last, looking hard into the fire. 
 
 "Yes, and his At-one-ment too," said the 
 minister.
 
 Billy Botch 
 
 29
 
 Billy Botch 
 
 Window dressing was at a discount in the 
 Beckside shops. The largest window was 
 that of the Clog Shop, a short low case- 
 ment, which made up for lack of height by 
 a quite abnormal width. No partition or 
 curtain separated the window from the shop, 
 except a strong board cocked slantwise at 
 the inside edge of the window bottom which 
 just enabled old Jabe to see over it, and 
 keep an eye on the doings of the world 
 outside. 
 
 The window bottom was generally strewn 
 with wax ends, clog irons, small tins of 
 dubbin, bundles of white leather whip-lashes 
 for children's tops, and clog soles in various 
 stages of preparation. Of ready-made boots 
 or clogs there was not a single specimen. 
 
 And yet there was, for in the very middle of 
 the window, standing on a little platform a few 
 inches high, stood a pair of handsome speci- 
 mens of the dogger's craft. Except that 
 there was generally a pretty thick coat of 
 recent dust upon them, these clogs were
 
 32 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 always in a high state of polish. The soles 
 had been varnished, the clasps glittered in 
 a state of quite arrogant brassiness, and the 
 tops were resplendent with innumerable coats 
 of blacking. Woe to the hapless apprentice 
 who smeared those varnished soles with black- 
 ing, or left a speck of dimness on the shining 
 clasps. 
 
 Now, the casual visitor who came to Beck- 
 side doubtless concluded that these resplen- 
 dent clogs were trade emblems, insignia of 
 the craft. 
 
 He was mistaken. To have made a pair of 
 clogs on stock or for mere show would have 
 been to make a concession to new-fangled 
 ways of which the old Clogger was incapable. 
 No, these clogs had a history which I am 
 now about to relate. 
 
 Jabe once had an apprentice called Billy — 
 an undersized, sickly-looking little fellow with 
 unmanageable dark hair, black twinkly eyes, 
 and a low, broad forehead. 
 
 Now, all Jabe's apprentices were supposed to 
 have done well after they left his training — 
 in fact there was a feeling in the minds of 
 the Clog Shop Club that the art of clog- 
 making depended for its maintenance, as far 
 as Lancashire was concerned, on the accom- 
 plished exponents of it who were turned 
 out from Beckside. Yet whilst they sat at 
 his bench, Jabe's " lads " were always " leather-
 
 BILLY BOTCH 33 
 
 yeds," "numskulls," and the like. And the 
 last one was always the worst. 
 
 But Billy seems to have been exceptionally 
 " num," and was emphatically informed about 
 a score times per day — 
 
 " Tha'll never mak' a dogger as lung as 
 tha'rt wik." 
 
 One evening, owing to some mental abstrac- 
 tion on Jabe's part, the usual terms of raillery 
 were wanting, and once or twice he spoke 
 quite civilly to his apprentice. 
 
 This produced a marked effect on Billy, 
 who grew quite light-hearted and had com- 
 menced to sing, when Sam Speck from the 
 chimney corner recommended him to " goo 
 i' th' next street." Nothing abashed, Billy 
 continued his tune, and at last, forgetting 
 altogether the presence of Sam in the corner, 
 he turned round upon his bench under the 
 back window, and called across the shop — 
 
 " Aw say, mestur, do yo' think Aw'st [I 
 shall] ever be able to mak' a pair ? " 
 
 In an instant Jabe was himself again, and 
 realising the danger of further neglect of duty, 
 he replied — 
 
 " Thee mak' a pair ! Thee ! Why, tha 
 conna mak' a wax end gradely yet. T'ony 
 thing as ever tha'll be able to mak' 'ull be 
 a-a-a-botch." 
 
 There was a great roar from the chimney 
 corner. 
 
 3
 
 34 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 '• Good, Jabe ; good ! By gum, that's a 
 good un," and Sam smacked his thigh in 
 deHght. 
 
 Billy flushed, and as he bent over his work 
 a great tear splashed down into the sprig- 
 box before him. 
 
 Now, " botch " was quite an unusual word 
 in Beckside, but it sounded so expressive, 
 and seemed so exactly to fit the case, that 
 it was regarded as one of Jabe's greatest 
 inspirations in nomenclature, and when Sam 
 began to call the poor little apprentice Billy 
 Botch, everybody else fell in with the habit, 
 and Billy Botch he continued to be. 
 
 The lad was really troublesome. His over- 
 anxious desire to please made him nervous, 
 and he was constantly blundering, but he 
 was so evidently proud of a place in the 
 great cloggery, so humble and penitent when 
 he had failed, and so anxious to make up 
 for his deficiency by harder work, that although 
 Jabe called him " num-yed " twenty times a 
 day, and informed him that " all thy fingers 
 is thoombs " about the same number of times, 
 he hadn't the heart to turn him away. 
 
 Billy was worse than an orphan. He was 
 the only child of the village sot. His mother 
 was dead, and Billy and his father lived alone. 
 The drunkard, once a respectable man, had 
 starved and almost killed his wife, and since 
 her death had alternately petted and abused
 
 BILLY BOTCH 35 
 
 his son. A soft-hearted, harmless man to 
 everybody but his own. And Jabe stuck 
 to Billy all the more on this account, 
 especially after he discovered that neither 
 abuse nor sympathy would induce the lad 
 to say a word against his father. 
 
 Billy was rather a timid boy, but on two 
 occasions he had come to his work with a 
 bloody nose, the result of an attack upon 
 some boyish slanderer of his parent, and 
 once, indeed, a dark rumour spread through 
 Beckside that Billy had lifted his hand to 
 throw a clog sole at his master for a 
 similar offence, but as no member of the 
 Club knew anything about it, and the 
 suggestion was so wildly improbable in 
 itself, nobody ever seriously believed it. 
 
 One day Sam Speck had been chaffing 
 Billy about his size. 
 
 " Mon," he said, leaning his back against 
 the chimney breast, and stretching himself 
 out upon the bench, " tha grows less. 
 There'll be nowt left but thy clugs sum- 
 day." 
 
 Billy began a reply which threatened to 
 end in a whimper, when Jabe gruffly ordered 
 him to " pike off whoam, and see as tha 
 cums i' time i' t' mornin'." 
 
 When he had gone, Jabe put out the brown 
 snuffless candle which was his speciality in 
 dips, drew up to the fire, and filled his pipe.
 
 36 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 For a time there was silence, and then 
 Sam, removing his pipe from his mouth, 
 and nodding emphatically as he looked first 
 at Jabe and then at Long Ben, as if to 
 defy even their combined contradiction, 
 said — 
 
 " It's trew ! Th' little chap does grow less." 
 
 " It's moar nor we can say for thy tongue," 
 rejoined Jabe. 
 
 There was an inarticulate grunt of amuse- 
 ment from Long Ben far into the ingle-nook, 
 and then a sudden straightening of his face 
 into portentous seriousness and sudden con- 
 viction, and he leaned his long body forward 
 and said — 
 
 " Aw'll tell thi wot it is, Jabe, that lad's 
 clemm't." 
 
 A few days later Billy came to his work 
 limping badly, and making strenuous efforts 
 to conceal his condition. 
 
 " Wot's up wi' thi naa ? " 
 
 " Nowt." 
 
 " Nowt ! why, tha limps like a three-legged 
 donkey. Wot's to do wi' thi ? " 
 
 " Aw tumbled ont' fender and hurt mysel'." 
 
 " Cum here and let's look at it." 
 
 Slowly and very reluctantly Billy came 
 towards the fire, and, holding up a skinny, 
 blue-hued leg, exposed a frightful bruise. 
 
 " That's niver a faw ; that's a punce. Whoa 
 punced thi ? "
 
 BILLY BOTCH 37 
 
 No reply. 
 
 " Whoa punced thi, Aw tell thi ? " 
 
 " No — noabry " (nobody). 
 
 Jabe jumped to his feet. " If tha tells me a 
 lie Aw'll knock thi daan." 
 
 By this time Jabe was looking very terrible, 
 and stood over Billy with an unfinished clog 
 sole ready to strike. 
 
 " My fayther." 
 
 The dogger's hand dropped to his side 
 instantly, and flinging his weapon back upon 
 the heap it belonged to, he sat down and began 
 glowering into the fire. 
 
 That night there was a long confabulation in 
 the ingle-nook, and all next day Sam Speck 
 was running to and from the Clog Shop every 
 few minutes with a look of dark mystery on 
 his face. 
 
 In the evening, getting as far into the chim- 
 ney as they could, and speaking under their 
 breath, Jabe, Sam, and Long Ben had a secret 
 consultation. At the usual time Billy, rising 
 from his bench at the back window, pulling off 
 his apron, and blowing out his candle, was 
 making for home. 
 
 " Naa, wheer art goin' ? " demanded Jabe in 
 his raspiest voice. 
 
 " Whoam, for sure," answered Billy in dull 
 surprise. 
 
 " Theer's going to be a halteration between 
 thee and me," and Jabe pursed out his lips,
 
 38 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 knitted his shaggy brow, and jerked his short 
 leg across the other in a manner that brought 
 a dingy patch of colour to Billy's cheek. 
 
 " Why, wot have Aw dun ? " he was begin- 
 ning, when Jabe broke in more sternly than 
 ever — 
 
 " Aw'm abaat tiret o' thy gallus ways, so 
 Aw'm goin' ta have thi livin' in." 
 
 " Livin' in ? " murmured Billy in perplexity. 
 
 " 'Avin' thy meit here and sleepin'," said Ben 
 from behind a cloud of tobacco smoke far into 
 the chimney. 
 
 A momentary flush of joy suffused Billy's 
 dirty cheek, and then it vanished, and in its 
 place came a hard, desperate expression. 
 
 " Aw conna live in ; thank yo' kindly, 
 mestur." 
 
 " Tha means tha winna," snarled Jabe. 
 
 " He's none goin' ta knock it off thy wages, 
 tha knows," explained Ben, with a coaxing 
 cadence in his voice. 
 
 Billy only shook his head. 
 
 " Aw conna leave my fayther," he said at last. 
 
 " Thy fayther ! " cried Jabe, with a look of 
 infinite disgust. 
 
 " It's abaat toime tha did," chimed in Sam 
 from the other chimney corner. " He's left thi 
 fur wiks togather, and he's clemm't thi, and 
 he's threshed thi, and welly [nearly] broken thi 
 leg. A bonny fayther he is ! " he added 
 scornfully, after a moment's pause.
 
 BILLY BOTCH 39 
 
 " But Aw conna leave him," said Billy, with 
 a weary shake of his head. 
 
 " Then tha other leaves him or me" shouted 
 Jabe, jumping to his feet and shaking his 
 clenched and waxy fist at Billy. 
 
 After an awkward pause, Long Ben asked 
 gently — 
 
 " Why conna tha leave thy fayther, lad ? " 
 
 " Aw — Aw promised my muther Aw wouldn't, 
 when hoo deed," and Billy burst into a great sob. 
 
 No more was said to Billy on the question 
 of living in, but from that time things began 
 to occur which prevented him from being spared 
 about meal times, and accepting the evident 
 intention of Jabe, he found himself provided 
 with food at the shop, but at liberty to go 
 home whenever he preferred. 
 
 Some time after this Billy was converted, 
 and began to take an eager boyish interest in 
 all chapel affairs. He grew fond of reading, 
 was made school librarian, and revelled in the 
 somewhat heavy literature of the vestry cup- 
 boards. Then he fell into the habit of " setting" 
 the preachers home after evening service, and 
 had not been entirely able to conceal from 
 them his own aspirations. 
 
 One day a letter came to the Clog Shop 
 which Billy read in a flutter of delight and 
 dismay. It was a request from a sick local 
 preacher that he would take the service at 
 Beckside on the following Sunday night.
 
 40 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 Billy was in a fever. He had several dis- 
 courses prepared, and had frequently rehearsed 
 them in the clough lanes, but now when the 
 opportunity came his heart failed. 
 
 Besides, he had never dreamed of commenc- 
 ing at Beckside. Hov/ would Jabe take it? 
 His contempt for young men's " forradness " 
 was well known, and then his master and Long 
 Ben were the stewards at the chapel, and there 
 was no telling what view they might take of 
 the case, especially as Billy had no proper 
 authorisation. 
 
 All day on Friday and also on Saturday 
 Billy was brooding over the coming ordeal, and 
 watching for a favourable opportunity of telling 
 the Clogger. But none occurred, and Billy 
 went home on Saturday night with his fearful 
 secret locked in his own breast. 
 
 Sleep was impossible, and when Sunday 
 came he went to chapel with the fixed resolu- 
 tion of telling his master after the service. 
 But the preacher was billeted with Jabe that 
 day, and being an old friend would stay to tea. 
 So Billy's last chance was gone. 
 
 As the stumpy fingers of the hair-of-the-head 
 clock hanging in the chapel vestry drew near 
 to six, there was anxiety in the minds of those 
 who occupied the apartment. Long Ben was 
 watching the clock and gently rocking his long 
 body to and fro as a vent for his nervousness. 
 Jabe strode from end to end of the vestry with
 
 BILLY BOTCH 41 
 
 his most pronounced unevenness of gait, and 
 Jonas Tatlock the " leading singer " sat at the 
 end of the table tapping impatiently on it with 
 his finger ends, and glancing expectantly every 
 now and again at the door. 
 
 " He doesn't use be'en this lat ! " said Long 
 Ben apologetically. 
 
 " He's ne'er bin nowt else sin' Aw knowed 
 him," snapped Jabe, glad of an outlet for his 
 growing wrath, " but we'st begin at toime, 
 preicher or no preicher." 
 
 "Whoa'll begin?" asked Long Ben cautiously. 
 
 " Whoa ? Why, thee." 
 
 " Me, Aw oppened aat t' last toime." 
 
 " Tha did nowt at sooart." 
 
 " Ya, bur 'ee did," Jonas broke in. 
 
 Jabe was just preparing a fearful blast for 
 these contrary spirits when the door was 
 opened, and Billy, as white as the vestry wall, 
 stepped in. 
 
 " Wot's tha want ? " cried Jabe at the in- 
 truder. 
 
 " Aw've come to tak' t' sarvice," stammered 
 Billy. 
 
 There was a dead silence. Jabe stood glar- 
 ing at his apprentice in speechless amazement. 
 Jonas became deeply absorbed in his tune- 
 book, and Long Ben fixed his eyes upon the 
 ceiling as if he expected some explanation 
 from it. 
 
 " Out of the mouths o' babes," he murmured
 
 42 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 at last, drawing out the " babes " as long as 
 possible in a sort of pathetic emphasis. 
 
 The fiery eye which Jabe had fixed on Billy 
 was now turned upon Ben, who seemed under 
 the glance to become lankier than ever. 
 
 After transfixing iiim for some time with a 
 terrific glare, Jabe turned suddenly on his heel, 
 snatched his hat from the peg against the 
 wall, and exclaiming mockingly, " Then tha 
 can coodle thy ba-abes," limped into the 
 chapel with his short nose very high in the 
 air. 
 
 In a few moments he was followed by Billy 
 and the rest, and a buzz of suppressed astonish- 
 ment arose as the young dogger walked into 
 the pulpit. 
 
 Billy trembled until the pulpit wax candles 
 shook in their sockets. Then in a husky, 
 tremulous voice he gave out the hymn. The 
 former part of the service was got through 
 without anything that needs comment, except 
 that Long Ben, who was not usually very 
 demonstrative in his worship, kept up a con- 
 stant fire of responses during the prayer. 
 There had never, within living recollection, 
 been any moment of stillness in that chapel 
 so awful as that in which Billy prepared to 
 announce his text. 
 
 " Prepare to meet thy God," read the 
 preacher. 
 
 A long pause, in which Long Ben, sitting
 
 BILLY BOTCH 43 
 
 near the vestry door, declared afterwards he 
 heard every tick of the vestry clock. 
 
 " Prepare to meet thy God," repeated Billy. 
 
 The superintendent minister had a way of 
 announcing his text twice before he began to 
 preach, and so, detecting an ambitious imita- 
 tion, Sam Speck gave a significant and re- 
 sounding sniff from behind the choir curtain. 
 
 " Prepare to meet thy God," reiterated the 
 preacher with a perceptible quaver in his 
 voice. 
 
 Another painful pause and a silence that 
 was deathly, broken at last by Jabe in the 
 back pew throwing his expressive leg about, 
 and kicking the pew front as he groaned 
 audibly, and in a tone of insufferable disgust. 
 
 " Hay, dear ! " 
 
 The young women tittered, the boys in the 
 gallery over Jabe's head suspended their pre- 
 parations for fun, and were breathlessly atten- 
 tive. All over the chapel there was a bending 
 down of bonnets, and Jonas in the singing 
 pew began to clear his throat to start a verse. 
 Then Billy, gripping the sides of the pulpit to 
 hold himself up, began — 
 
 " Christian brethren, along the path of life 
 there are many strange meetings. . . ." 
 
 Having got started, the preacher divided his 
 sermon into the orthodox three parts and an 
 application. When he had been going several 
 minutes he seemed to get the upper hand of
 
 44 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 his work. There were a few people, at any- 
 rate, who were all eye and ear. The exhorta- 
 tion proved to be longer than the sermon, and 
 when Billy sat down bathed in perspiration 
 there was many a shining face and not a 
 few glistening eyes in the little Beckside 
 congregation. 
 
 On Sunday nights the Clog Shop Club sat 
 in Jabe's parlour. The day's sermons were, of 
 course, the chief subjects of discussion, but 
 the debate was conducted by a strict and 
 well-understood method. 
 
 Supper of oatcake, cheese, and small beer or 
 coffee having been partaken of, the critics drew 
 round the fire. It would have been nothing 
 short of a misdemeanour for any one to have 
 broached the sermon during supper, — only 
 strangers ever attempted it, — and for any one 
 to have led off the conversation without wait- 
 ing for Jabe would have been simply rank 
 treason. When the pipes had been lighted, 
 and no sound could be heard except the 
 regular p't, p't of the smokers' lips as they 
 poured forth expanding columns of smoke, 
 Jabe would turn to Long Ben and commence 
 the discussion with the invariable formula — 
 
 " Well, wot dost reacon off yon mon ? " 
 
 On the night of Billy's sermon, however, 
 there was a hitch. 
 
 P't, p't, went the pipes — Jabe was a long 
 time beginning.
 
 BILLY BOTCH 45 
 
 P't, p't, p't, but he never spoke. Two or 
 three of the cronies fidgeted in their chairs. 
 
 " Little David wi' a sling an' a stoan," said 
 Long Ben at last, in a hesitant, musing way. 
 
 " Ay, an' plenty thick-yed Goliaths to throw 
 'em at," answered Jabe. 
 
 The chairs creaked loudly, and Jonas had a 
 fit of coughing. 
 
 Another long silence. Jabe's rejoinder gave 
 no clue whatever as to his mental whereabouts 
 on the subject of the evening, and the first 
 thing to do was to solve that problem. So 
 Sam Speck presently tried the other side, but 
 very cautiously — 
 
 " It tak's moar nor memory to mak' a 
 preicher." 
 
 " That's why they wouldn't ha' thee, Aw 
 reacon," said Jabe — in allusion to a long by- 
 gone attempt of Sam's to get upon the Plan. 
 
 Sheepish grins flitted for a moment on two 
 or three countenances, and Jonas' cough came 
 on again, and after a time he said : " This 
 'bacca's mortal strung." 
 
 It was no use. The conversation would 
 not flow — Jabe could not be drawn ; and in 
 spite of several attempts to start other topics, 
 the conversation hung fire. The Club broke 
 up earlier than usual therefore, and Jabe was 
 left to himself. As he was filling his pipe with 
 the nightcap charge, however, the parlour door 
 opened an inch or two, and Long Ben, holding
 
 46 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 the door open without coming into sight, said 
 with unnecessary loudness — 
 
 "Jabe!" 
 
 « Well ? " 
 
 " Deal gently, for my sake, with the young 
 man," and bang went the door, and Ben's long 
 steps were heard retreating down the road. 
 
 The night following, however, the ice was 
 broken, and after Sam had retailed all the 
 gossip of Beckside relating to Billy's sermon, 
 and Jabe had elicited from his cronies by 
 such tortuous byways of conversation as were 
 peculiar to them that they were pleased with 
 the effort, Jabe dropped his mask, and whilst 
 sternly repressing all extravagance of praise, 
 he conceded in what was regarded as one of 
 his few weak moments that " Th' lad met 
 [might] mak' a hexhorter i' time." 
 
 But Billy improved rapidly, was made a 
 local preacher, became in request, and was, 
 withal, exceedingly studious and modest. 
 
 The " super " had been " planned " all day at 
 Beckside one Sunday, and though not billeted 
 with Jabe, he was known to have visited him 
 and had a long conversation during the day. 
 
 The gathering in the parlour was therefore 
 unusually large at night in expectation of 
 news. Supper over and the pipes lighted, 
 Jabe, leaning back in his chair until it stood 
 on its back legs only, and looking hard at the 
 brass candlesticks on the high mantelpiece,
 
 BILLY BOTCH 47 
 
 puffed out a volume of smoke and remarked 
 in the most indifferent voice he could com- 
 mand — • 
 
 " Th' ' super's ' wot Aw caw a far-seein' mon." 
 
 Six pipes were taken out of six mouths, and 
 six pairs of inquiring eyes were turned on 
 Jabe, but nobody spoke. Somewhat discon- 
 certed at not receiving the spoken question, 
 Jabe went on — 
 
 " A gradely commonsense chap." 
 
 Another long silence ; and then Sam Speck, 
 looking across at Jonas as if addressing him 
 particularly, said — 
 
 " Queen Anne's deead." 
 
 Foiled again, Jabe went on another tack, 
 and after a suitable pause remarked, with the 
 same exaggerated assumption of indifference — 
 
 " Aar Billy's bin axed to preich t' charity 
 sarmons at Clough End." 
 
 Now, most of those present were already in 
 possession of this piece of information, and as 
 every one felt that this was only preliminary 
 skirmishing, which was being unnecessarily pro- 
 longed, they still maintained their taciturnity. 
 
 Jabe fidgeted in his chair, threw his short 
 leg over one arm of it, then took it down 
 again, and at last, turning to his nearest 
 neighbour, who happened to be Long Ben, 
 he said — 
 
 " Th' ' super ' wants aar Billy to cum aat." 
 
 " Aat into t' ministry, does tha mean ?"
 
 48 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 " Ay ! " 
 
 There ; the cat was out of the bag now, and 
 in a few minutes they were talking one against 
 the other in a manner bewildering to any but 
 a native Becksider. 
 
 Sam Speck had " expected nowt else sin' he 
 preiched his fust sarmon." 
 
 Jonas told Jabe : " Tha'll see that lad Cheer- 
 mon of a District afore tha dees." 
 
 Lige (Elijah), the road-mender, wanted to 
 know " wot th' circuit ud think o' Beckside 
 when it turn't aat a * traveller,' " and Long 
 Ben sat back in his chair with an exhausted 
 pipe between his lips and beamed in silent 
 satisfaction. 
 
 When the conversation was loudest, and 
 two or three had risen to their feet to get a 
 better hearing, the door opened and in walked 
 Billy. 
 
 In a moment there was a great hush, and 
 those who were standing slunk back into their 
 chairs as if they had been suddenly detected in 
 stealing. 
 
 Billy looked round with curiosity and 
 surprise. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " he asked ; for he 
 had been out preaching, and had not yet 
 dropped back into his work-a-day vernacular. 
 
 Jabe was informed afterwards that it would 
 have been more becoming if he had held his 
 tongue on this occasion, a criticism which his
 
 BILLY BOTCH 49 
 
 own judgment endorsed, but he was excited, 
 and so he blurted out — 
 
 " Th' * super ' says tha hes to goa aat." 
 
 The colour went from Billy's cheek. The 
 hand which rested on Jonas' chair shook. A 
 soft light came into his eyes, and he sank 
 quickly into a seat. But nothing could be 
 got out of him. As the others talked with 
 a rude eloquence about his future, Billy looked 
 steadily and abstractedly into the fire, a sad- 
 ness settling on his face which cast its chill 
 over all the company. When they were all 
 gone except Ben, Jabe, who was evidently 
 waiting, turned to his apprentice and de- 
 manded — 
 
 " Well ; has tha nowt to say abaat it ? " 
 
 " Mestur," was the reply in tones of anguish, 
 " even if Aw wor fit Aw conna goa." 
 
 " Tha conna goa ! Wot's to hinder thi ? " 
 
 Billy was still gazing into the fire. 
 
 " Ay ! why conna tha goa, lad ? " added Ben. 
 
 " Aw conna tak' my fayther wi' me," was 
 the slow reply in tones of deep dejection. 
 
 " Whoso loveth father or mother more 
 than Me," cried Jabe, in evident pain and 
 anger. 
 
 " If my fayther were a gradely mon," began 
 Billy again, and then he bent his head down 
 upon his knees and heaved a heavy, struggling 
 sob, for he was relinquishing the one great 
 dream of his life. 
 
 4
 
 50 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 Billy's father, it should be said, had been 
 converted under one of his son's sermons, and 
 for more than a year had kept himself respect- 
 able. But a few weeks before the night we 
 are speaking of he had broken out again, to 
 Billy's great grief. Moreover, steady or 
 otherwise, he was no longer able to sustain 
 himself. 
 
 Next day Jabe was unusually quiet, and 
 when Billy, who had been quite as dull as his 
 master, was leaving for the night, Jabe called 
 him back and said, in a voice subdued with 
 unwonted emotion, — 
 
 " Howd on, lad. Aw want thee." 
 
 Rising from his bench, he went and locked 
 the shop door, and then pulling Billy down 
 upon a stool inside the ingle, he said in a 
 choking voice — 
 
 "Will tha goa, lad, if Aw'll tak' cur on 
 him ? " 
 
 They were only simple Lancashire men, 
 those two; but they fell into each other's 
 arms, and when they parted Jabe had arranged 
 for " t'owd chap " to live with him, and Billy 
 was pledged to offer himself as a candidate for 
 the mission-field, for it was understood that his 
 heart was set upon that kind of work. 
 
 Billy became a candidate for the Wesleyan 
 ministry, was accepted, and, as there was great 
 demand for men just then, was appointed 
 immediately to the West Indies.
 
 BILLY BOTCH 51 
 
 The day of the young missionary's depar- 
 ture from Beckside was one of the most 
 memorable in the history of the village. The 
 farewell really began the day before. Billy, 
 having finished his packing and made his 
 last calls, felt the time hang heavily on his 
 hands, and so sat down at his old bench 
 by the back window to make one last pair 
 of clogs. 
 
 As he was getting towards the end of his 
 work a great lunge came against the shop 
 door. Jabe, who generally disdained to 
 leave his bench for any such purpose, jumped 
 up hastily and opened the door. As he did 
 so a huge chest, apparently borne by invisible 
 hands, but really held up from the outermost 
 end by Long Ben, came sailing into the 
 shop, and was suddenly dropped with a bang 
 upon the floor opposite the fireplace. 
 
 Although only early autumn, a chip fire 
 was burning, and Ben, after taking his breath, 
 made a pretence of warming his hands as 
 he said, looking up the shop towards Billy. 
 
 " Theer, Aw reacon that '11 be big enough 
 for thee." 
 
 Now, as nearly all Billy's belongings had 
 already been packed, this box seemed to the 
 young missionary to be a kind of " day 
 behind the fair " sort of thing, but he was 
 soon undeceived, for before he could speak 
 Sam Speck, who had been sitting in the nook
 
 52 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 for some time with a mysterious and some- 
 what impatient air upon him, suddenly ducked 
 down, and dragging a carefully wrapped 
 parcel from under the stool he had been 
 sitting on, cried — 
 
 " Theer, if them Wacks starts on thi, give 
 'em a taste of thooas," and loosing the string 
 he revealed a pair of silver-mounted pistols, 
 which even then were antique, but were 
 Sam's dearest bits of earthly property. 
 
 All this had evidently been arranged, for 
 whilst Sam was still speaking Aunt Judy 
 came in with her arms laden with home- 
 made hosiery of the very thickest Beckside 
 make : a number of pairs of stockings, a 
 " comforter " of bewildering length, a heap of 
 mittens of almost all colours and patterns, 
 and a long, red, knitted nightcap with a 
 big bobbing tassel at the top of it. 
 
 " Why, Judy," cried Sam, " India's a whot 
 country ; he'll ne'er need them things." 
 
 " Good cloas keeps th' heat aat as well 
 as t' cowd," answered Judy, a little dashed 
 at this failure of her grand coup. 
 
 Then others came. Jonas brought a pedi- 
 gree fiddle, which had been his grandfather's, 
 and had made music at innumerable local 
 " sarmons " and tea-meetings. 
 
 Presently the box was full, and Ben began 
 to rearrange the articles for their long journey. 
 
 Jabe insisted on helping him, and the two
 
 BILLY BOTCH 53 
 
 bent double over the side of the huge case, 
 seemed to take most excessive pains to see 
 that all was safe. And it was only when 
 Billy stood in a West Indian mission-house, 
 with the thermometer at over 90°, and held 
 two greasy money-bags containing gold in his 
 hands, that he understood the sweet kindness 
 of this mysterious packing. 
 
 Next morning the Clog Shop was occupied 
 very early by six solemn-looking men dressed 
 in their Sunday best. An extra coach had 
 been chartered to take them to Duxbury, 
 whence the new railway was to carry Billy 
 and his belongings to London. 
 
 Billy's father, in a state of nervous collapse, 
 sat looking on at the preparations in a dazed 
 manner. Jabe was scarcely less disturbed, 
 though he attempted to get up a conversation 
 on the state of the high roads they were 
 going to travel on, just to conceal his own 
 condition — a device that deceived nobody. 
 Billy's successor was stationed in the road 
 to give the signal when the coach and cart 
 for the luggage hove in sight. 
 
 " It's cummin'," shouted the new apprentice 
 at last. 
 
 " It's cummin'," passed from lip to lip, and 
 then with a white face and lips all awork, Jabe 
 limped to the door and locked it, and the 
 company, without any prompting but instinct, 
 fell to their knees. One after the other the
 
 54 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 humble souls commended their " lad " to 
 " Him who holds the winds in His fists." 
 And then Billy prayed a broken, hesitant, 
 mixed sort of prayer, beginning with the 
 minister's English and ending in the Lanca- 
 shire 'prentice boy's broad dialect, with a 
 great sob for the last " Amen." 
 
 " Tak' care o' my owd fayther, my dear, 
 dead muther's husband. Tak' care, O Lord, 
 o' my second fayther, and all my dear owd 
 frien's, and if we never meet again below, 
 may we all meet in he-e-e-ven and * niver, 
 niver part again.' " 
 
 Then they dried their eyes and went to 
 the coach. All Beckside was ready by this 
 time, for Ned Royle had stopped the mill 
 for half an hour to give Billy a good send off. 
 
 Then all the Clog Shop cronies got inside 
 the coach as solemnly as if they had been 
 going to a funeral, and as a big cheer went 
 up from the crowd Billy bade farewell to 
 his native village. 
 
 It was a mournful company that gathered 
 round the Clog Shop fire that night. Every- 
 body was dull and weary as well as sad. 
 Presently the shop-door opened, and a man 
 came in. 
 
 " Is them clogs dun ? " asked the new- 
 comer. 
 
 " Wot clogs ? " said Jabe, in no mood for 
 mundane matters.
 
 BILLY BOTCH 55 
 
 " Them as Billy said he'd finish fur me 
 afore he went." 
 
 Jabe looked at the customer with a long, 
 steady stare, during which it was evident 
 something was passing in his mind. At 
 last going to Billy's bench and picking up 
 a pair of new clogs, he put them on the 
 little counter. The man was picking them 
 up, but Jabe snatched at them before him, 
 and holding them at a safe distance from 
 the customer, he asked — 
 
 " Is thoas 'em ? " 
 
 " Ay ! " 
 
 Then Jabe drew a long breath, and, 
 surveying the would-be purchaser from head 
 to foot, he said — 
 
 " An' has tha th' impidence to want t' 
 last pair o' clogs as aar Billy iver made or 
 iver will mak' ? " 
 
 The man was speechless with astonishment. 
 
 " Sithee," Jabe continued, " theer isna 
 brass enoo i' all Lancashire, neaw, nor i' 
 all England, to buy them clogs." 
 
 Next morning Long Ben had orders to 
 make a little stand, and when it was finished 
 the last specimens of Billy's handicraft were 
 placed on the top of it. 
 
 And that is the story of Billy Botch.
 
 i 
 
 1
 
 '' Hanging his Hat up " 
 
 57
 
 " Hanging his Hat up " 
 
 The doctor had given " Owd 'Siah " (Josiah) 
 up, and humanity and ordinary neighbourliness, 
 to say nothing of higher considerations, required 
 a becoming manifestation of concern on the part 
 of Becksiders. But it was uncommonly diffi- 
 cult to do — in fact, it required constant self- 
 repression to conceal the presence of quite 
 opposite feelings ; and when Sam Speck related 
 to Jabe and Long Ben how that the doctor — a 
 rather hot-headed young fellow — had stamped 
 his foot and sworn because he had not been 
 sent for sooner, declaring at the same time that 
 nothing could save the patient now, the news 
 was received with looks which came suspiciously 
 near to malicious satisfaction. 
 
 This neglect to call in the doctor was so 
 exactly characteristic of " Owd 'Siah " and his 
 miserliness that its fatal termination was recog- 
 nised as retributive, and everybody in Beckside 
 believed in retribution. 
 
 Old Josiah had begun life as a farm-labourer. 
 Then he got on to keeping a few cows. Then 
 he had taken Gravel Hole farm, and one day he
 
 6o CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 surprised everybody by buying — actually buy- 
 ing outright — a small milk-farm called the 
 Fold, which stood on the opposite side of the 
 road to the Clog Shop as you turned the corner 
 to go down to the Beck. 
 
 But thrift had degenerated into penurious- 
 ness, and then into miserliness, and finally into 
 every kind of meanness in 'Siah. He gave up 
 his pew at the chapel, and sat on the free seats. 
 He was only present on Sundays when there 
 was no collection. A fourpenny bit was the 
 highest contribution he had ever been known 
 to give to any subscription, and when he with- 
 drew from the Beckside string and reed band 
 Sam Speck declared he " gien up fiddlin' to 
 save th' expense o' rozzin." When his wife 
 died, Aunt Judy declared that she had been 
 " nattered to death wi' his cluseness." His two 
 sons had both run away from home, and were 
 dead, and his only daughter Nancy had left 
 home and was a weaver at the mill. 
 
 When 'Siah died, though every tongue was 
 still in the presence of death, and the women 
 all sighed as they talked of it, from sheer force 
 of habit, nobody pretended to any particular 
 regret, and some, ignoring the immediate cause, 
 expressed their satisfaction that Nancy would 
 be " weel off naa." 
 
 When at the tea after the funeral old Jabe 
 absent-mindedly started " Praise God, from 
 whom," etc., instead of " Be present at," etc..
 
 "HANGING HIS HAT UP" 61 
 
 nobody saw the grim humour, except perhaps 
 the young doctor, who went out rather hastily 
 with a very red face. 
 
 Nancy was just bordering on thirty, a rather 
 tall, straight young person, whose homely, com- 
 fortable face was sharpened by a hard line or 
 two about the mouth. Everybody had sided 
 with her in her rebellion against her father, and 
 everybody felt a sort of relief from moral 
 responsibility when it became known that her 
 father had not carried his resentment to his 
 grave, but had left her sole legatee. 
 
 Before old Josiah had been long dead, people 
 began to speculate about Nancy's future hus- 
 band ; for though they had treated with mild 
 surprise the fact that such a " likely wench " 
 had not got married whilst she was a mere 
 weaver, now she had become a freehold farmer 
 single blessedness was not to be thought of 
 With " beeasts " to care for and a farm to 
 manage, marriage was at once a necessity and 
 a duty. 
 
 A few weeks after the funeral Aunt Judy 
 was " takkin' a soop o' tay " with Nancy, but 
 though full of the subject of the young woman's 
 future, she feared to venture far until assured 
 that it would be agreeable. She led several 
 times, but Nancy somehow would not follow. 
 
 " Ay, well ! " she said with quite a demon- 
 strative sigh, looking steadily into the fire, 
 " life's full o' changes, wench. We doan't
 
 62 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 knaw wot a daa nor an haar may bring forth, 
 as th' Beuk says." 
 
 " Neaw," said Nancy in a most provoking 
 non-committal tone. 
 
 " An' there'll be moar changes afoor t'year's 
 aat," hinted Judy with the smallest catch of 
 significance in her tone. 
 
 " Aw reacon ther' will," asserted Nancy, but 
 she went no farther. 
 
 " Well ! Aw mun goa, wench," said Judy, 
 rising from her seat. •* Tha mun keep thy 
 'art up, tha knows. Ay, dear," she continued, 
 fixing her eye on the wooden partition near the 
 door she was approaching, and looking directly 
 at something she saw there, " Aw see thy 
 fayther's owd hat's hanging on t'peg here yet," 
 and then, with a significant sidelong glance at 
 Nancy, " Aw expect there'll be a young felley's 
 billycock hanging up theer afoor we're mitch 
 owder. But mind wot th' art doin', wench. 
 Aw expect tha'll no spend thy haupenny at 
 fust staw'." 
 
 " Neaw, neaw. Aunt Judy. The mon as 
 hangs his hat up o' that peg 'ull ha' ta be a 
 mon. Aw con tell yo'." And Nancy smiled a 
 quiet, humouring smile as she opened the door 
 for Judy, as if hastening her departure. 
 
 After Judy had gone the quiet smile still 
 lingered on Nancy's face, and she sat down 
 before the fire, and was soon in a brown study. 
 
 Very soon all kinds of rumours flew about
 
 " HANGING HIS HAT UP" 63 
 
 Beckside anent Nancy's matrimonial prospects, 
 and as there was a rather large proportion of 
 eligible bachelors and widowers, the supposed 
 competitors for her hand were many. 
 
 Now it was Luke Knowles who was the 
 happy man. He was " rather owd," but, as a 
 substantial yeoman, was in every way suitable ; 
 and then it was Billy Bumby, the coal-dealer, 
 who was the only man in Beckside who had 
 shares in a bank. But as Billy kept flying 
 pigeons (that is, homers), it was a moot point 
 whether Nancy wouldn't be rather bemeaning 
 herself; for though Billy was very well off, to 
 keep pigeons was to be a publican and a sinner. 
 
 Then it was confidently stated that the 
 young doctor was " after " Nancy, and a day 
 or two later the doctor was supplanted by 
 " the mestur's " son from the mill. 
 
 Now, as old Jabe was a confirmed bachelor, 
 and at all times cynical and abusive on the 
 subject of women ; as Sam Speck (who was in 
 matters of opinion a mere echo of Jabe) was a 
 widower, whose marital experiences were sup- 
 posed to have given him ample grounds for 
 sympathising with Jabe's extreme views ; and 
 as Long Ben was known to everybody as a 
 woeful example of the henpecked husband, it 
 will be supposed that the Clog Shop Club took 
 little or no interest in Nancy's prospects. 
 
 And perhaps 'under ordinary circumstances 
 it would not have done. But, then, Nancy's
 
 64 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 farm stood nearly opposite the Clog Shop door, 
 and the front of the house, as well as one end, 
 and the road leading down the Fold to the farm 
 premises were right before you, a little to the 
 right as you looked through the Clog Shop 
 window, and could evan be easily seen as you 
 sat by the shop fire. 
 
 Besides, Nancy had long been a member of 
 Jabe's class, and was the leading " seconds " 
 singer in the chapel choir, which, of course, laid 
 some responsibility on our friends as to her 
 future happiness. 
 
 Whatever the reason, Nancy's prospects were 
 a matter of curious interest at the cloggery. 
 Never a trap turned the corner into " the 
 Fowt " ; never a creak was heard at Nancy's 
 garden gate ; never a bang of her front door, 
 but the old Clogger lifted his bald, grey-fringed 
 head over the low board that separated the 
 window bottom from the shop, and Sam Speck 
 stepped nimbly to the window end nearest the 
 counter to look. 
 
 Sam, as a sort of henchman to Jabe, always 
 spent a considerable amount of time at the 
 Clog Shop, but about the period of which I 
 write he seemed to be constantly there. He 
 also took to slipping on his " Saturday efter- 
 noon " coat on ordinary days, and greatly 
 scandalised his sister by putting on " shoon " 
 which were always supposed to be especially 
 reserved for Sundays and festivals.
 
 "HANGING HIS HAT UP" 65 
 
 Sam was a short, small-made, but very 
 " natty " man, and always neat in his appear- 
 ance. Just at this time, however, he became 
 quite vain, but was so busy gathering and dis- 
 cussing the village gossip about Nancy and her 
 future, and so animated, not to say excited, in 
 his discussion of it, that the change in his 
 get-up passed unnoticed by his chums. 
 
 Early one afternoon, when Jabe had just 
 finished his after-dinner pipe and resumed his 
 work, Sam sat on the end of the long stool 
 that jutted out from the ingle-nook, lost in 
 profound meditation. 
 
 Presently he began to hug his knees with 
 his hands, leaning back as he did so, and look- 
 ing at Jabe as if he were making some intricate 
 calculation of which Jabe was the subject. At 
 length he said — 
 
 " Hoo's mooar nor an ordinary wench, hoo is." 
 
 " Who art talkin' abaat ? " asked Jabe 
 gruffly. 
 
 " Aw'm talkin' abaat 'Siah's Nancy, an' wot 
 Aw say is as hoo's mooar nor a common 
 woman." 
 
 This was said with such unnecessary warmth 
 that Jabe took a sort of hesitant glance at Sam 
 as he asked — 
 
 " Whoa said hoo worn't ? " 
 
 " Th' felley as hes her 'ull have a fortin in 
 his wife as well as wi' her," continued Sam 
 meditatively and ignoring Jabe's question. 
 
 5
 
 66 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 " Tak' her thysel', then," was the rejoinder. 
 
 " Well," he replied, hesitating as if he knew 
 he was giving himself away, but didn't see how 
 to avoid it, " Aw met dew wor." 
 
 " Wot ! " shouted the Clogger, enlightened 
 at last, and rising to his feet in his indignation 
 and scorn. " Th'art theer are ta ? thaa yor- 
 ney ! " " At thy age tew," he continued after 
 a pause. 
 
 " Aw'm nooan sa owd," snapped the would-be 
 bridegroom, suddenly sensitive on the point of 
 age. " Aw'm twenty year younger nor thee." 
 
 " Ay, an' a hundred year i' sense Aw wop 
 [hope], thaa meytherin' owd maddlin' thaa." 
 
 Finding no sympathy or even encouragement 
 to talk, Sam left in a huff, and for the rest of 
 the week the Clog Shop saw him not. 
 
 On Monday, however, he was back in his 
 place, and confided to Jabe and " Owd Lige " 
 over the fire that " Marriage wor a big risk 
 efter aw. Them's t'best off as hes nowt to do 
 wi' it." 
 
 This and his resumption of clogs and ordinary 
 wearing apparel created the suspicion that Sam 
 had " axed " Nancy and had been refused, 
 which was confirmed by Aunt Judy, who was 
 supposed to be in Nancy's confidence, and who 
 reported that Sam had been in Nancy's on 
 Sunday afternoon and had "cum away wi' a 
 flea in his ear." 
 
 A few days after Sam's discomfiture, and
 
 "HANGING HIS HAT UP" 67 
 
 whilst he still wore a pensive and chastened 
 air, Job Sharpies sidled into the Clog Shop. 
 Job was a sharp-nosed man with a hard little 
 mouth and red eyes that were suggestive of 
 chronic catarrh. He had a clean-shaven face, 
 was quite fifty years of age, and was a pork- 
 butcher and cattle-jobber by trade. He took 
 snuff, and had a hesitating manner, which was 
 supposed to conceal a dogged, tenacious will. 
 
 He stood for a few moments before the 
 short counter pretending to take a survey of 
 the contents of the window bottom, but in 
 reality he was counting Nancy's cows as they 
 were being driven into the Fold to milk. 
 Presently he remarked — 
 
 " Them clugs Aw had t'other day has split, 
 Jabe." 
 
 " T'other day," cried Jabe, always on the 
 alert where Job was concerned, and never 
 greatly in love with him ; " it's six munths 
 sin tha had 'em if it's a day." 
 
 "Eh, is it so lung?" replied the visitor, 
 whose cue it was to conciliate rather than pro- 
 voke. " Haa toime flies ! " " But," he added, 
 unable entirely to repress his natural weakness, 
 " nowt lasses [lasts] naa as it used do." 
 
 Saying this he sauntered to the fireplace, 
 and was soon comfortably seated on one of 
 the stools. Then he began to balance the 
 poker on one of his fingers, whilst Jabe, with 
 a darkening countenance, became suddenly
 
 68 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 very violent amongst his tools, banging them 
 about and making a most unnecessary clatter. 
 
 Job waited a moment or two, took another 
 pinch, and then, setting the poker carefully 
 into one corner as he spoke, said — 
 
 " Aw reacon tha knows AwVe bowt Sally's 
 haases." 
 
 " Ay ! " answered Jabe shortly, and in a 
 tone of strong reluctance, as though he were 
 acknowledging something to which he objected, 
 but which he could not help. 
 
 Job took up a handful of chips from the 
 corner, sprinkled them slowly on the fire, dusted 
 his hands one against the other, and then pro- 
 ceeded in a conciliatory tone of voice — 
 
 " Aw'm nooan so badly off, tha knows, Jabe, 
 for a Becksider." 
 
 Now the pig-dealer was noted for a constant 
 cry of poverty, and Jabe was therefore uncer- 
 tain whether to take this unwonted admission 
 as a mark of special confidence or as an intro- 
 duction to something yet to come, so he was 
 silent. 
 
 Job blew his nose, scraped together the 
 chips scattered on the hearthstone with his 
 feet, walked to the end of the counter nearest 
 the window, and took another long look at 
 Nancy's house and yard. 
 
 Walking back to the fire, but sitting down 
 on the stool nearest to Jabe, he leaned forward 
 and said in a low coaxing tone —
 
 '•HANGING HIS HAT UP" 69 
 
 " Dost think Owd 'Siah's property had 
 owt on it ? " 
 
 And Jabe laid up mental lacerations for 
 himself by answering — 
 
 " Aw knaw nowt abaat it." 
 
 " Le'ss see. They'n five caas, an' a bullock 
 ha' na they ? " And the dogger suffered 
 further inward humiliation as he replied — 
 
 " Aw tell thi Aw knaw nowt abaat it." 
 
 " Naa, Jabe, nooan o' thy fawseniss." 
 
 But Jabe had perjured himself sufficiently, 
 and commenced hammering an obstreperous 
 clog top as though he would knock a hole 
 through it. 
 
 Job had recourse to the snuff-box again, 
 and turning to the fire sat looking into it 
 and ruminating deeply. Then he got up once 
 more, stepped behind the counter and over 
 to the clog-cutting bench, which stood against 
 the wall at Jabe's right hand. Sitting down 
 uneasily on this he said in a loud whisper — 
 
 "Jabe, owd lad, Aw'm goin' to put up 
 for Nancy." 
 
 Jabe looked dangerously like hitting Job's 
 bullet head with his hammer, but he checked 
 himself, and was about to speak, when a 
 new idea seemed to strike him, and after 
 clearing his throat he said, with a very poor 
 attempt at a smile — 
 
 "Tha'll ha' ta be sharp abaat it." 
 
 That was enough; and whilst the Clogger
 
 70 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 was struggling with the fear that he had 
 added fresh sin to his soul, Job was pressing 
 him with eager questions — 
 
 " Wot dost meean by that ? Whoa's t'others ? 
 Am Aw i' time, dost think?" 
 
 " Th'art i' time if tha goas naa," was the 
 answer. 
 
 Job started to his feet to go. At the door, 
 however, he hesitated, took another long look 
 at the Fold through the window, playing 
 nervously the while with the latch. At last 
 he said — 
 
 " Hoo's a soft-spokken soart o' wench, isn't 
 hoo, Jabe ? " 
 
 " Soa, soa," was the reply. 
 
 The pig-dealer slowly opened the door and 
 stepped into the road. In a moment he was 
 back, however — 
 
 " 'Siah left it aw to her, didn't he, Jabe ? " 
 
 " Whoa else could he leave it tew ? " 
 
 Away went Job, sidling past the window, 
 and going a few steps up the road before 
 he crossed it, so as not to appear to be going 
 direct ; whilst Jabe, dropping his hammer, rose 
 to his feet and stood back a little, so that 
 he might see his visitor go into Nancy's 
 without being seen himself. 
 
 Just as Job reached the garden gate Sam 
 Speck stepped into the Clog Shop. 
 
 " Hay ! " cried Jabe in a stage whisper, 
 " cum here ; sithee ! sithee ! " and pointing
 
 " HANGING HIS HAT UP" 71 
 
 through the window at Job fumbling with 
 a refractory gate latch, he drew Sam behind 
 the counter and into the shade where he could 
 see without being seen. 
 
 By this time the pig-dealer had reached 
 Nancy's door, and when he was admitted 
 Jabe began to hop on his unequal legs about 
 the shop, crying — 
 
 " Aw wodn't ha' missed this ; Aw wodn't ha* 
 missed this for aw t' brass owd 'Siah ever had." 
 
 Sam seemed to enjoy the situation quite 
 as much as Jabe, though probably for a 
 different reason, and when in a few minutes 
 they saw Job emerge from Nancy's door and 
 stalk down the short garden path, looking 
 so abstractedly before him that he nearly fell 
 over the gate, and then from their vantage 
 point, standing back, saw Nancy's comely 
 face, all beaming with fun, peep out from 
 behind the curtain at the retreating form of 
 her would-be husband, the two sat down and 
 guffawed and grinned with unalloyed satis- 
 faction — Jabe taking off his apron and adjourn- 
 ing to the chimney corner to discuss the matter 
 in all its details. 
 
 Something strange must have been in the 
 air that day, for, drawn by some occult influence, 
 first one and then another of the Clog Shop 
 cronies dropped in until the ring round the 
 fire was complete, and the host had to tell his 
 tale over again each time a newcomer arrived.
 
 72 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 Job being heartily disliked by nearly all 
 Becksiders, his discomfiture was the tit-bit of 
 every feast of gossip for some time, and, in 
 fact, it was only forgotten when another piece 
 of news had put it out of people's heads. 
 
 Soon after the event just recorded, there 
 sprang up in the village a rumour that Nancy 
 was going to be married. Nobody seemed 
 to know how it had originated, but Jimmy 
 Juddy (Jimmy, son of George), who was only 
 an occasional occupant of the ingle-nook stools, 
 happened to be there when Sam Speck brought 
 the news to the Clog Shop, and he immediately 
 adduced confirmatory evidence in the fact that 
 he had just come from the Fold, and had re- 
 ceived orders to " fettle th' place up inside and 
 aat, upstirs an' daan." 
 
 But who was the happy man ? And here 
 rumour was absolutely silent. That there was 
 to be a wedding was now certain, for Aunt 
 Judy had taxed Nancy with it, and she had 
 not denied it, but all attempts to get at the 
 name of the bridegroom had utterly failed. 
 
 Once, indeed, when Aunt Judy and Sally 
 Walters had cornered Nancy, and there did 
 not seem any possible escape for her, she 
 evaded it by saying, as Judy reported, that 
 " Hoo worn't gradely sure ; hoo hadn't axed 
 him yet," but as this was clearly a joke nobody 
 paid much heed to it. 
 
 Sam Speck declared himself out of all
 
 ♦' HANGING HIS HAT UP" 73 
 
 patience with Jimmy Juddy, because night after 
 night during his labours at Nancy's, where 
 he must perforce be in constant contact with 
 that lady, he assured the members of the 
 club that he'd " nayther seen nowt nor yerd 
 nowt." 
 
 This was all the more remarkable because, 
 though the men spoke of Jimmy as soft- 
 hearted, he was known to be a great favourite 
 with women : his quiet, almost womanly, ways 
 procuring for him a great share of the feminine 
 confidences of the locality. Jabe and the rest, 
 though not so severe on Jimmy as Sam, 
 yet were fain to confess that he certainly 
 hadn't made the most of his opportunities. 
 
 But it was like Jimmy. He was too mild 
 for anything, and whilst all gave him more 
 than the average share of personal affection 
 most were ready to subscribe to Jabe's oft- 
 repeated declaration that " He'd a getten on 
 better i' life if he'd had a bit mooar spunk 
 in him." Jimmy was a social failure ; beginning 
 life with something more than average oppor- 
 tunities he had made nothing at all out. A 
 middle-sized, mild-mannered fellow, with an 
 arm partly disabled by rheumatism, he was 
 already going down the hill of life, in spite 
 of hard work and a great personal popularity. 
 
 He began life as the bookkeeper at the 
 mill, which gave him a status amongst the 
 better end of the Beckside population, especially
 
 74 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 as he would do their private bookkeeping for 
 them. At that time he was considered to 
 have excellent prospects, and no one was 
 surprised when a boy-and-girl courtship sprang 
 up between him and 'Siah's Nancy. 
 
 But one day Jimmy was dismissed without 
 notice, and no explanation of the matter was 
 forthcoming, either from the masters or from 
 the bookkeeper himself, but it was said that 
 old 'Siah had put his foot down concerning 
 Nancy and Jimmy, and I am now revealing 
 for the first time a secret when I state that 
 Jimmy in a painful interview would give no 
 explanation to Nancy, and so there was an 
 end, too, of that. 
 
 All this was years ago, and since then much 
 had happened. Jimmy was considered to have 
 wiped out his disgrace by rescuing a little 
 piecer from the top room of the mill during a 
 fire at the risk of his own life. On this occa- 
 sion the excitement of his effort, and the 
 drenching he got with the water used for 
 extinguishing the flames, threw him into bed 
 with rheumatic fever, and permanently injured 
 his health, unfitting him for hard work. 
 
 Then the smallpox came, and Jimmy, who 
 had become a sort of handy man — white- 
 washer, jobbing painter, and even chimney- 
 sweep for those sufficiently well off to afford 
 the luxury — serv^ed as Long Ben's assistant 
 in coffin-making and undertaking until he
 
 "HANGING HIS HAT UP" 75 
 
 went down himself with the plague, and barely 
 escaped with life. Altogether, Jimmy's had 
 been a sad career ; but he was a cheerful, will- 
 ing, kindly fellow, and in a quiet way a general 
 favourite, whilst his old mother and paralysed 
 sister simply worshipped him. 
 
 Jimmy was busy cleaning, whitewashing, 
 and painting Nancy's premises for several 
 days, and at last worked his way down into 
 the front kitchen, which for general conven- 
 ience had been left to the last. The kitchen 
 had formerly been larger, but it was now 
 divided into two, the end nearest the Clog 
 Shop being partitioned off to make a small 
 " best parlour." Attached to the partition 
 was a thick peg, ornamented at the front with 
 a short cow's horn. 
 
 " Mun Aw tak' this peg daan ? " asked the 
 painter as he prepared to paint the parti- 
 tion. 
 
 " Neaw, tha munnot. Th' mon as is comin' 
 here 'ull want ta hang his hat theer," replied 
 Nancy. 
 
 Now, Jimmy had been several times on the 
 point of sounding Nancy on the mystery of 
 her approaching marriage, and here was a 
 direct challenge. But after stealing a long 
 sidelook at her, and forming his lips two or 
 three times as if to speak, he lapsed into 
 silence and went quietly on with his work. 
 
 During his labour at the Fold he had not
 
 76 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 seen much of the proprietor, but now as he 
 was in the general living place they seemed 
 constantly together, and anybody but Jimmy 
 would have noticed that though she bustled 
 about a great deal Nancy was really doing 
 next to nothing, and was constantly hovering 
 about him in a quite suggestive way. Once 
 or twice, indeed, in explaining her wishes, she 
 had come very close to him, and had brushed 
 his whitewash-spotted cheek with her frizzy 
 brown hair. 
 
 But Jimmy was used to women, and 
 his mind was rather preoccupied by a little 
 domestic anxiety of his own, and so he thought 
 nothing about it. 
 
 A stranger listening to their fragments of 
 conversation would have thought that Nancy 
 was trying to draw Jimmy, but the poor fellow 
 saw nothing, and the questions he had pre- 
 viously asked were intended more to furnish 
 information for the Clog Shop inquisitors than 
 to gratify his own curiosity, though that was 
 not quite dormant. 
 
 It drew near to tea time, and Nancy became 
 really busy ; in fact, Jimmy could not help 
 noticing that her preparations were much too 
 extensive for a party of one. She had brought 
 in a great piece of cheese, toasted several 
 slices of bread, reached down a plateful of 
 oatcake from the rack over her head, and was 
 searching the depths of a cupboard for what
 
 "HANGING HIS HAT UP" 77 
 
 turned out to be a large pot of blackberry jam, 
 when the painter began wiping his brushes on 
 the edge of his paint can, saying as he did 
 so — 
 
 " Aw'll goa to my baggin [tea], an' cum agean 
 i' t' morn." 
 
 " Tha'll do nowt o' t' soart ; corn't tha see 
 Aw'm makkin' sum tay, tha'll ha' ta finish ta- 
 neet Dost think Aw want thi here till 
 Chresmass ? " 
 
 Jimmy looked surprised, but the women 
 were all kind to him, so he resigned himself 
 to the inevitable. 
 
 When they had " said a blessin'," and Jimmy 
 was pouring his tea out of his cup into his 
 saucer, as was the correct thing at Beckside, he 
 nearly upset it upon his paint-stained trousers 
 as Nancy abruptly commenced — 
 
 " Tha hasn't axed me whoa Aw'm goin' 
 t' have?" 
 
 The painter smiled sheepishly, and answered, 
 " Neaw." 
 
 Somehow the pause that followed felt rather 
 awkward, and it struck Jimmy that his silence 
 might be taken for lack of interest, so he ven- 
 tured — 
 
 " Noabry [nobody] seems to know whoa it 
 is." 
 
 " Let 'cm find it aat then," was the reply, 
 and Nancy's eyes began to dance with fun. 
 
 Jimmy was stuck again, but as Nancy
 
 78 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 seemed to be expecting him to go on, he 
 said — 
 
 " He's not a stranger, is he ? " 
 
 " Neaw, he'er [he was] born i' th' clough." 
 
 " But not a Becksider ? " 
 
 "Ya, — a Becksider," and Nancy laughed 
 out. 
 
 " Has ta known him lung? " 
 
 " Ya, aw my life." 
 
 Jimmy felt uneasy, and would gladly have 
 stopped — he scarce knew why ; but Nancy was 
 so evidently pleased to be questioned, and so 
 openly invited him by her manner to go on, 
 that there was no help for it. So he re- 
 sumed — 
 
 " Do Aw knaw him ? " 
 
 This question really did seem to disturb 
 Nancy, for a crumb went down the wrong 
 throat as she swallowed her tea and led to a 
 violent fit of coughing, and the painter felt 
 absolutely compelled to get up and slap her 
 between her shapely shoulders to help her. 
 
 When she had recovered and heaped Jimmy's 
 plate with muffins again, she came back to the 
 interrupted conversation with — 
 
 " Well, Aw doan't think tha does knaw him 
 gradely; at ony rate, tha doesn't think mitch 
 abaat him." 
 
 Jimmy was simply bewildered. It wasn't 
 like Nancy to have anything to do with a 
 doubtful character, so at last he said — -
 
 «« HANGING HIS HAT UP" 79 
 
 " Well, Aw wop he's a gradely mon." . 
 
 " Gradely ! " and her flashing eyes suddenly 
 softened into a strange tenderness. " He is 
 that. He's a hero ! " 
 
 " Th' woman's i' luv wi' him at ony rate," 
 thought the painter. But Nancy hadn't 
 done. 
 
 " He's wun o' them scarce chaps as conna 
 get on for helpin' other folk ta get on." And 
 there was a curious break in her voice, and she 
 got up to seek something on the high mantel- 
 piece which she never found. 
 
 " A-y," said Jimmy, with slow incredulity, 
 and he began to run his mind over all the 
 eligible Beckside males who could be said in 
 any sense to be heroic. 
 
 " A hero, tha says ? " he queried. 
 
 " Ay, as owt to 'a hed t' Royal Society's 
 medal mooar nor wunce to my knowledge. 
 He's no mitch to look at, and he's welly 
 [nearly] lame wi' th' rheumatiz ; Aw — aw" — 
 and there were tears in Nancy's voice — " Aw'd 
 rayther have him nor t' Prince o' Wales." 
 
 Jimmy was sitting straight up in his chair, 
 and looking at her as if he had fears for her 
 reason. He had heard many women's con- 
 fidences before now, but this — . But Nancy 
 was speaking again. 
 
 " He's clemm't hissel' for mony a year for 
 th' sake of an owd craytur and her badly dowter 
 at th' Beck Bottom yond."
 
 8o CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 But Jimmy had jumped to his feet, his 
 mouth wide open, and his face bathed in sudden 
 perspiration, whilst the smothered, buried but 
 ever living, love of a lifetime came welling up in 
 his heart. 
 
 " Nancy ! Nancy ! tha doesn't mean me ?" 
 
 And there the two stood : Nancy with blush- 
 ing, tearful face buried in her hands; and Jimmy 
 looking about him as if he were expecting an 
 earthquake. 
 
 Then he took a step or two back, and shak- 
 ing his head with solemn earnestness, said — 
 
 " Neaw, neaw, Nancy ! Aw'm fain to see 
 th'art same as tha allis were ; but it munno be, 
 it munno be ? " 
 
 " Why munno it be ? " she said, lifting her 
 head out of her hands with a look of sudden 
 fear and anger. 
 
 " Tha'rt young and bonny, an' weel off, and 
 Aw'm poor, and my arm's welly stiff wi' rheuma- 
 tism, an' Aw's soon be dun for." 
 
 "If tha talks like that abaat bein' dun for, 
 Aw'll — Aw'U smack thi i' th' faace," and Nancy 
 really looked like doing it. 
 
 " Then theer's my owd muther, and aar Alice, 
 an — 
 
 " Well, Aw want them mooar nor Aw want 
 thee," and Nancy looked quite triumphant at 
 her own double-barreled retort. There was 
 silence, during which Jimmy stepped slowly 
 backwards.
 
 ''HANGING HIS HAT UP" 8i 
 
 " Tha knows, Nancy, if theer wor nowt else, 
 theer wor that other thing tha knows on." 
 
 "Wot thing?" 
 
 " It's past twelve ye'r sin', as tha tow'd me 
 when Aw geet sacked [discharged], niver to 
 think o' thee till Aw'd cleared mysel' ; an' Aw 
 niver have, tha knows." 
 
 " Cleared thysel' ! Cleared thysel' ! " and 
 Nancy flew across the floor and seized him by 
 the shoulder as she cried : " Jimmy, tha knows ; 
 an' Watty knows ; an' when he left for Australia 
 a fortnit sin', he told me in this varry kitchen 
 as tha's carried his shawm [shame] for twelve 
 ye'r ta save him fro' jail, and his wife and 
 childer fro' th' bastile [workhouse]. Aw've 
 never thowt o' noabry else, an' when Aw yerd 
 that Aw said Aw'd mak' thi ha' me. An' Aw 
 will ! Aw will ! " 
 
 And the push she gave him by way of 
 emphasis sent him spinning against the cupboard 
 door. 
 
 What they said and did after that is nothing 
 to you and me, gentle reader, but they talked 
 a long time, a great happiness filling poor 
 Jimmy's heart, such as he had never felt before. 
 
 When he rose to go, for there was no chance 
 of being able to finish that night, Nancy called 
 him back. 
 
 " Jimmy," she said. 
 
 "Wot?" 
 
 " Tha's never kissed me yet." 
 
 6
 
 §2 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 Kissing was reserved for children at Beck- 
 side, and was, at the best of times, a very rare 
 thing, but Jimmy made up for twelve years of 
 enforced and bitter abstinence before he let his 
 sweetheart go. 
 
 Once more Jimmy began to collect his paint 
 cans to depart. 
 
 "Jimmy." 
 
 "Wot?" 
 
 " Is that t' hat tha allis wears ?' 
 
 " Ay." 
 
 " Hang it up o' that peg then.
 
 Giving a Man Away 
 
 83
 
 Giving a Man Away 
 
 When Jimmy Juddy left his sweetheart on the 
 night of their engagement, he walked like a 
 man in a dream. He crossed the road into 
 Mill Lane, which ran parallel with the Clog 
 Shop, and led down to the mill, and thence on 
 to Beck Bottom, where it joined the road to 
 Clough End. Jimmy passed the mill without 
 noticing it, and never heard the two or three 
 " How do's " that were addressed to him by 
 passers-by. His head was bent, and he was 
 muttering to himself. 
 
 Presently he entered the field beyond the 
 mill, and approached a clump of young trees 
 in a corner at the side of the lane. Here he 
 dropped upon his knees under the shadow of 
 the trees, crying as he did so — 
 
 " Tha's done it. Lord, it's noabry but Thee 
 — but it's like Thee. Ay ! it's like Thee. 
 Aw've waited twelve ye'r an' Aw gav' up hope 
 lung sin, but Aw see naa 'at it is good boath to 
 hope and to wait for the salvation of the 
 Lord." 
 
 Jimmy spent several minutes on this broken 
 
 85
 
 86 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 ejaculatory prayer, and then quietly picking up 
 his cans and brushes he made for home. 
 
 As he approached, new thoughts forced 
 themselves upon him. What would his mother 
 and sister think of these things ? Since his 
 disappointment of twelve years ago, he had 
 given up all thought of marriage, and latterly 
 he had come to regard his duty to his woman- 
 kind as precluding it. 
 
 The state of his mind was very clearly 
 understood by both mother and daughter, and 
 in their womanly inconsistency they began 
 to evince a most anxious desire that he should 
 take to himself a wife. But Jimmy was not 
 deceived. He knew that the certainty they felt 
 of his remaining a bachelor encouraged them in 
 their banterings. 
 
 But his heart told him this was only one of 
 the little self-deceptions which do so much to 
 sweeten life. He knew that the reality would 
 be terrible. 
 
 Moreover, though old Matty his mother was 
 really healthier than either he or his sister, they 
 had persuaded themselves that her heart was 
 weak, and they had become fertile in inventing 
 devices to prevent her ever being suddenly 
 startled. 
 
 This was an occasion, however, which taxed 
 Jimmy's love-quick inventiveness to its utmost. 
 He knew how difficult it was to conceal any- 
 thing from them. One or other would find
 
 GIVING A MAN AWAY 87 
 
 him out in no time, and they both boasted 
 they could read him " like a book." It was 
 no use, therefore, to attempt concealment ; 
 only he must break the news gently, for the 
 old woman's sake. 
 
 By this time he had reached their cottage, 
 a little low house standing between the mill 
 lane and the Beck, and having a garden in 
 front that ran to a point at the bridge where 
 the road crossed the Beck. 
 
 Hastily putting away his cans and brushes 
 in the little workshop behind the house, and 
 washing himself, he hurried in, and in his 
 eagerness to get a lead in the conversation lest 
 he should be cornered, commenced at once — 
 
 " Well, Aw hav'n't finished after aw, but " — 
 and then he broke off. 
 
 " Hay, muther, yo' do look bonny. Yo' 
 getten younger. If Aw wor a bit younger, 
 Aw'd start o' courtin' yo'." 
 
 " Bless thee, lad ! tha's ne'er done nowt else 
 sin' Aw know'd thee," was the reply. But this 
 turn to tenderness did not suit Jimmy's pur- 
 pose at all, so he sat down to his porridge, 
 preparing to talk. 
 
 " Hoo's spending a lot o' brass o' yon haase," 
 he remarked. 
 
 " Hast yerd yet whoa hoo's goin' to have ? " 
 asked Alice, who sat with her crutch by her 
 side on the opposite side of the table. 
 
 Jimmy's heart gave a great leap.
 
 88 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 " Have ? " he cried, " hoo's having sumbry, 
 that's sartin ; everybody's gettin' married 
 na'adays. Aw'st be goin' off mysel' some fine 
 mornin'." 
 
 Jimmy had made so many threats of this 
 kind to amuse his mother that both women 
 smiled with a sweet sense that their mirth 
 was safe, and Alice was encouraged to pursue 
 the subject by receiving a gentle kick on her 
 crutch from Jimmy's foot under the table. 
 So she said in gentle raillery — 
 
 " Well, dunna brag sa mitch ; its leap ye'r, 
 tha knows." 
 
 " By th' mon it is !" exclaimed Jimmy, " Aw 
 ne'er thowt o' that. Aw'st ha' to look aat, Aw 
 con see. Some on 'em '11 happen ax me." 
 
 But the effort to keep excitement out of 
 his speech was a little overdone, and Alice 
 shot at him a glance of quick inquiry, but 
 his mother, noticing nothing, answered — 
 
 " Well, theer's plenty on 'em 'ud do that if 
 they thowt ther' wor ony chance for 'em," and 
 the old woman's face beamed with quiet pride 
 in her son's popularity as she continued, '* But 
 theer's nooan on 'em good enough for aar 
 Jimmy." 
 
 " Naa, mother, yo'll mak' him mooar consated 
 nor he is," broke in Alice, " but if ony on 'em 
 axed him he couldn't say neaw, especially if 
 hoo wor owd or i' trouble." 
 
 Jimmy bent his head over his porridge,
 
 GIVING A MAN AWAY 89 
 
 and gave another kick under the table as he 
 answered, in a shamed sort of way — 
 
 " Well, they'an axed me." 
 
 " Wot ! Whoa ? " cried both women at once. 
 
 Jimmy took a long, careful look at his mother 
 and shook his head with a smile as he answered — 
 
 " Ay ; yo'd like to know, wodn't yo' ? " 
 
 " Whoa is it ? Hoo's an impident jade 
 whoever hoo is," cried Alice with sudden mis- 
 giving, which brought fear into her face. But 
 Jimmy was watching his mother. 
 
 " Howd thy bother, Jimmy," she said, with 
 a quiet smile, " th' art nobbut gammin'." 
 
 And Jimmy felt like dropping through the 
 floor as, watching old Matty's face very 
 narrowly, he answered, with an assumption of 
 nonchalance which was ridiculously overdone — 
 
 *' It's reet. Aw've been axed this varry day." 
 
 There was a dead silence. Both women 
 turned pale ; the older one gripped the arms 
 of her chair, and Alice stood up and leaned 
 on her crutch. 
 
 At last the mother said, almost under her 
 breath, " Whoa is it, lad ? " 
 
 But Jimmy was alarmed. There was no 
 reason that he could see why his words should 
 have produced so sudden a change. So he got 
 up and fussily rearranged his mother's chair 
 cushions as he answered, in a tone of gaiety — 
 
 " Nay ; yo' mun guess." 
 
 Neither woman had any heart to do this, for
 
 90 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 though Jimmy's words were innocent enough, 
 his manner justified the gravest conclusions. 
 To gratify him they began to select. They 
 guessed all the marriageable women they 
 could think of, eligible or ineligible, but chiefly 
 the latter. 
 
 " Neaw I neaw ! " Jimmy cried, with growing 
 excitement at each guess. 
 
 " Well, whoa con it be ? " cried Alice, in per- 
 plexity, the pain at her heart making her 
 doubly impatient ; " Wheer has ta bin to-day? " 
 
 " Aw've bin noawheer but th' Fowt." 
 
 A pale, sickly light shot across old Matty's 
 face as she asked — 
 
 " It's not Beck — Becky o' Tom's, is it ? " 
 
 Becky was the handsome, strapping, but some- 
 what aggressive, maidservant at the Fold farm. 
 
 " Becky ? Neaw," and Jimmy laughed and 
 danced on the sanded floor with gleeful 
 anticipation of the next question, crying as he 
 did so, " Yo're warm, muther ; yo're warm." 
 
 "Jimmy!" cried Alice, " it's no" — but she 
 stopped, and took a long look at her brother's 
 face, and then she turned and hugged her 
 mother and burst out in a great sob of relief 
 as she cried — 
 
 "It is, mother ! it is ! it's Nancy." 
 
 Both these women knew of Jimmy's old- 
 time attachment to Nancy, and the look on 
 his quiet face spoke so eloquently of the love 
 that had never been really dead, that they
 
 GIVING A MAN AWAY 91 
 
 both felt glad for his sake, but with a wistful, 
 dumb sort of gladness. 
 
 They sat on each side of the fire, and made 
 the painter sit down on his favourite low stool 
 between them and tell them all about it. 
 
 As Jimmy talked with glowing face and 
 brightening eyes, they laughed, rather loud 
 laughs for them, laughs which had odd catches 
 in them, and which once or twice nearly ended 
 in sobs. Whilst Jimmy was looking up into 
 either of their faces they smiled with hard- 
 forced but very passable smiles, but if he 
 turned to speak more particularly to one, the 
 one not addressed turned her face hastily and 
 brushed away a tear. 
 
 Jimmy talked much about the goodness of 
 God, and God moving in mysterious ways, 
 and they answered " Ay, lad 1 " And then he 
 talked about it always being darkest before 
 daylight, and they smiled and nodded and 
 said " Ay " again, but it almost choked them, 
 for a future without Jimmy would be perpetual 
 midnight at Beck Bottom. 
 
 The painter was so radiant, so eloquent on 
 the subject of Nancy, and so constantly blend- 
 ing all his utterances with ejaculations of praise 
 to God, that the women seemed for a time to 
 catch his spirit, and drank Nancy's health with 
 quite a respectable show of gladness in warm, 
 home - made elderberry wine, which smelt 
 strongly of cloves.
 
 92 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 But somehow old Matty tired sooner than 
 usual that night, and after conducting family 
 prayers herself, she rose to retire. 
 
 " Well, good neet, lad ! Hay I who'd a thowt 
 o' this when tha went aat this morning? But 
 we doan't know what a day nor an haar may 
 bring forth. Good neet, an' God bless thee." 
 
 When she had reached the top of the stairs, 
 however, Jimmy called to her, and as she stood 
 with one hand on the bedroom door-latch 
 whilst she held a candle in the other, he told 
 her about Nancy saying she wanted mother 
 and daughter more than she wanted the son, 
 and as Jimmy laughed old Matty laughed, — 
 quite a demonstrative attempt for so quiet a 
 person, — but when her bedroom door had been 
 closed behind her the wreathed smile dis- 
 appeared, darkness and tears came into those 
 old eyes, and the face became white and woeful 
 as she dropped heavily on her knees, crying 
 under her breath as she did so — 
 
 "Aw connot do it. Lord ; Aw connot do it. 
 Lord, help me." And then, after a long pause, 
 " Thy will — Aw dunnut vtean it, but Aw'll say 
 it till Aw C071 mean it — Thy will be done." 
 
 Beckside was amazed when the name of 
 Nancy's bridegroom became known, as it did 
 next day, and for a time the verdict seemed 
 doubtful. 
 
 The surprise was so complete as to be
 
 GIVING A MAN AWAY 93 
 
 aggressive and awaken resentment. And then 
 everybody felt that it was so natural a thing 
 to have come about that their never having 
 thought of it was a reflection on their intelli- 
 gence. But this was only momentary ; very 
 quickly the current set steadily in favour of 
 the arrangement, and in twenty - four hours 
 Jimmy and his bride were more popular than 
 they had ever been in their lives. 
 
 The Clog Shop cronies gave Jimmy " a 
 wiggin' " for what they called his " fawseniss," 
 and would perhaps have kept up a show of 
 disapproval but that a better occupation was 
 found for them. 
 
 On the second day after the engagement, 
 Jabe, happening to look up from his work at 
 the click of Nancy's garden gate, saw that 
 young lady and Aunt Judy, with shawls over 
 their heads, making for the Clog Shop with 
 " serious business " writ large on their faces. 
 
 " Jabez," began Judy, as soon as they were 
 inside, assuming an attitude of uncompromising 
 non-surrender, and giving her brother his full 
 name, as she always did when very much in 
 earnest, " Aw want to knaw wheer this poor 
 wench is for t' be married ? " 
 
 This was said with slow and weighty de- 
 liberation, and Jabe, lifting his head, asked — 
 
 "Wheer?" 
 
 " Ay, wheer ? Hoo wor chesened at th' 
 chapel, and hoo's bin browt up at th' chapel,
 
 94 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 an' hoo wor born agean at th' chapel, an' aw her 
 fowks is buried i' th' chapel yard, an' Aw reacon 
 hoo'll ha' ta goa to a church two mile away 
 wheer hoo's ne'er bin in her life to be married." 
 
 " An' sarve her reet if hoo's soft enough ta 
 get married," said Jabe; but though the words 
 were rough the sound was not very dreadful. 
 
 " Wot Aw want for t' know is why hoo conna 
 be married at th' chapel ? " demanded Judy. 
 
 " 'Cause hoo conna." 
 
 " Why, Jabe ? " chimed in Nancy. 
 
 " 'Cause it's no licensed." 
 
 " An' why isn't it licensed ? Wot's trustees 
 doin' not ta hav' it licensed all these years ? " 
 asked Judy. 
 
 " 'Cause it'll cost ta mitch." 
 
 " Haa mitch will it cost ? " asked Nancy again. 
 
 But something had just entered Jabe's head. 
 He sat straight up on his stool and looked 
 directly through the window as if he were 
 thinking rapidly. Presently he answered, look- 
 ing hard and musingly now at Nancy — 
 
 *' Bless thee, wench. Aw dunnut knaw. But," 
 and here he leaped to his feet and smote his 
 hard fist on the counter, as he cried : " Aw'll 
 tell thee wot. Tha shall be wed at th' chapel, if 
 th' licence cosses [costs] twenty paand !" 
 
 Three days later Jabe and Long Ben sat at 
 the Clog Shop fire in their Sunday best, report- 
 ing to the assembled magnates the result of 
 their excursion to Duxbury.
 
 GIVING A MAN AWAY 95 
 
 The short of it was that the chapel was to 
 be licensed forthwith, and all would be in time 
 for Nancy's wedding. The deputation, big 
 with the importance of their mission and con- 
 tact with authority, legal and ecclesiastical, were 
 unusually communicative. 
 
 The " super " had informed them that it was 
 customary to present a Bible and Hymn-Book 
 to the first couple married in the chapel. That 
 was considered a most becoming idea, and was 
 enthusiastically adopted for the approaching 
 occasion. 
 
 Then Long Ben mentioned that the " super " 
 said he thought the chapel ought to be cleaned 
 and decorated, and in a short time a scheme 
 was sketched for the whitewashing, painting, 
 and cleaning of the chapel by a band of volun- 
 teers superintended by Ben himself. 
 
 Then it was suggested that all the Sunday 
 School scholars should attend the ceremony, the 
 girls to be dressed in their white anniversary 
 frocks, but as the married men present hesitated 
 to commit themselves before consultation with 
 their home-rulers, this question was deferred. 
 
 When conversation began to flag, and Ben 
 had glanced once or twice window-wards as if 
 meditating departure, Sam Speck, who, as the 
 most juvenile member of the Club, was con- 
 sidered to have a somewhat dangerous inclina- 
 tion to novelties, asked whether it was not 
 customary to have music at weddings.
 
 96 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 Jabe had " ne'er yerd on't." Ben thought 
 he had " read about it i' th' papper," and Jethro, 
 the knocker-up, gave it as his opinion that " they 
 on'y hed music when royalty were married." 
 But Sam stuck to his point, calculating with 
 cunning confidence that an opportunity for 
 the band to display its talents would greatly 
 tempt the members of that organisation, and 
 he was right, and easily carried the day. 
 
 But what sort of music was it to be ? Sam 
 had heard something about wedding marches ; 
 but marches were worldly, and nothing but 
 sacred music could be played in the chapel. 
 
 Lige, the road-mender, suggested his in- 
 variable selection for all times and seasons, 
 " There'll be no mooar sorra there," but as Jabe 
 vetoed that as inappropriate, Long Ben named 
 the hymn — 
 
 "Two are better far than one. 
 For counsel or for fight." 
 
 to the tune Asylum. But nobody supported 
 the idea, and at length Jonas Tatlock, the 
 leader of both band and chapel choir, was sent 
 for, and by the time he had smoked two pipes 
 at a furious rate, arguing and demonstrating 
 all the time, he had convinced the company 
 that the " Hallelujah Chorus," which they had 
 been rehearsing intermittently for years, was 
 the correct thing, and it was resolved to go 
 into hard practice at once.
 
 GIVING A MAN AWAY 97 
 
 Never a brighter day dawned than the one 
 on which Jimmy and Nancy were to be married. 
 All nature smiled, and human nature, at any- 
 rate in Beckside, put on its very best. The 
 Amateur Painting Committee had done its 
 work, and the chapel was resplendent and very 
 redolent of whitewash and paint. Nancy's 
 Sunday School class, in their white frocks, and 
 carrying " posies," occupied the front pew. The 
 band had taken possession of the singing pew 
 in the left hand corner, and overflowed into the 
 adjoining pews, as on " Sarmon " days. The 
 villagers, even including Job Sharpies, had 
 packed every available inch of space, the 
 gallery being reserved for the children. The 
 registrar was in the vestry, and the " super " 
 was walking about in the aisles exchanging 
 greetings with his people. 
 
 Presently the vestry door opened, and the 
 registrar beckoned the minister. Arrived in 
 the little sanctum, the " super " found an old 
 woman with a black poke bonnet, and a face 
 almost as white as the frill in her bonnet 
 front. 
 
 " Good morning, Mrs. Crawshaw ; this is a 
 happy day for you," said the minister. 
 
 " Happy ! My heart's welly broken ; but 
 he's bin a good lad, an' Aw've come to give 
 him away." 
 
 " To give him away, Mrs. Crawshaw ? " 
 
 " Ay ; Aw've nowt else to give her."
 
 98 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 " But it is the lady who is given away, you 
 know, not the gentleman." 
 
 But just then there was a commotion in the 
 chapel. The bridal party was coming. There 
 were no cabs in Beckside, and even the very 
 respectable thought it no dishonour to walk to 
 their wedding, and at that moment the wed- 
 dingers were coming arm in arm up the hill, 
 and the front of the somewhat long procession 
 had reached the chapel door. The minister 
 hastened to his place within the communion- 
 rail, and amid a buzz of excitement the party 
 walked up the aisle. 
 
 Jimmy, with a huge blush-rose in his coat, 
 looked warm, but quiet and radiantly happy. 
 Nancy, flushed and proud as any duchess, 
 glanced around as she reached the communion- 
 rail as if in search of something, but the 
 minister was commencing, so she had to give 
 attention to the business in hand. 
 
 When they had got about halfway through 
 the service, and the happy couple stood with 
 clasped hands, there was an interruption. 
 
 The vestry door opened, and Jimmy's mother, 
 calling out " Wait a minute," hobbled to the 
 front, and, placing her hands on the heads of 
 the bride and bridegroom, cried out — 
 
 " God bless thee, lad ! May thy childer be 
 as good to thee as tha's been to me. God 
 bless thee, Nancy. God's glen thee a good 
 'art an' a bonny face, and thy fayther's gien
 
 GIVING A MAN AWAY 99 
 
 thee th' farm, but Aw'm givin' thee aw as Aw 
 have. God bless yo' booath." 
 
 There was a perfect chorus of quavering 
 " Amens," accompanied by a display of hand- 
 kerchiefs and a wiping of eyes, for this staid, 
 still old woman, who during a lifetime had 
 never spoken in chapel before, — not even at 
 those great Beckside institutions, the Love- 
 feasts, — had touched a chord in every heart. 
 
 Then the service was finished, and the 
 " super," in a neat speech, presented the Bible 
 and Hymn-Book to the happy pair, after which 
 the people clapped, and the boys in the gallery 
 set up a thunderous stamping. Then the 
 bridal party adjourned to the vestry to sign 
 the register, during which there was such a 
 tuning of instruments and resining of fiddle- 
 bows as was not heard even at the anniversary 
 in Beckside. 
 
 Jonas Tatlock, mounted on a high stool at 
 one corner of the singing pew, watched the 
 vestry door as for dear life, and as it opened he 
 cried excitedly — 
 
 " Naa, lads, brast aat — Wun, two, three, 
 fower ! " 
 
 And they did " brast aat." Handel's grand 
 chorus probably never received so entirely 
 original a rendering, and it certainly was never 
 produced with more whole-hearted earnestness 
 and meaning than by the perspiring, but joyful, 
 Beckside band.
 
 Tatty Entwistle's Return 
 
 101
 
 Tatty Entwistle's Return 
 
 A STERN, lowering look sat on the minister's 
 face as he lifted the Clog Shop latch. He 
 had come to Beckside on very serious busi- 
 ness. That very forenoon a woman, agitated 
 and tearful, and with a slight bruise on her 
 forehead, had called at the manse in Dux- 
 bury, and had complained that her husband had 
 struck her, and that she could no longer live 
 with him. And this husband turned out to be 
 none other than Nathan Entwistle, the Beck- 
 side blacksmith, who was chapel steward and 
 trustee in the Beckside Methodist Church. 
 
 The good " super " was grievously shocked. 
 A humane and chivalrous man himself, he was 
 scandalised to think of such an act being 
 committed by a church steward. What a 
 disgrace it would be if it got abroad. What 
 a scandal would be caused, and what injury 
 would be done to the name of religion ! The 
 thing must be hushed up and the two brought 
 together again ; and if that could not be 
 brought about, then such measures of disci- 
 pline must be taken as v/ould make it clear to 
 
 103
 
 I04 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 all outsiders that the Church condemned, re- 
 pudiated, and punished such conduct. 
 
 What a beast that Nathan must be ! And 
 he had always thought him such a quiet, decent 
 fellow. And so deeply attached to the cause, 
 too ! He was very much afraid that the morals 
 of these rough north-country folk were very lax. 
 It was very painful, but he must do his duty. 
 Unless Nathan repented and made full amends, 
 he must be expelled, if only as a warning to 
 the rest. And even if Nathan was contrite, he 
 must be relieved of his offices. Such conduct 
 could not be passed over. He must be faith- 
 ful at all costs. 
 
 These were the thoughts which were passing 
 through the minister's mind as the venerable 
 horse he hired jogged lazily along towards 
 Beckside. As he entered the village, the 
 glances and nods and winks which the villagers 
 made to each other as he passed them con- 
 firmed him in his fears that the thing had 
 become a public scandal ; and so, after putting 
 up his horse at the Fold farm, he came across 
 to the Clog Shop in a stern and resolute frame 
 of mind. 
 
 Long Ben and the C logger, who were alone, 
 rose with joyous surprise at this unexpected call, 
 but the look on the minister's face checked them. 
 
 " Well, brethren, this is a serious matter," 
 he said, with a sigh, as he pulled off" his gloves 
 and stuffed them into his overcoat pocket, and
 
 TATTY ENTWISTLE'S RETURN 105 
 
 then turning up his coat tails sat cautiously 
 down on an old clogging-bench near the fire. 
 
 The faces of the two friends formed them- 
 selves into notes of interrogation. They glanced 
 with quick inquiry at their visitor, and then at 
 each other, and then Jabe inquired — 
 
 " Wot dew yo' meean, Mester * Shuper ' ? " 
 
 " I mean about Nathan. Such conduct is 
 infamous for a Christian man, and a member, 
 too. But you don't mean to say you know 
 nothing about it ? " 
 
 " We knaw nowt wrung abaat Nathan," 
 said Jabe slowly and decisively, " and wot's 
 mooar, there's noabry can tell nowt nother." 
 
 " If they'll speik th' truth," added Ben, whose 
 face wore an emphatic and almost defiant in- 
 dorsement of Jabe's remark. 
 
 " But haven't you heard ? Is it possible 
 you don't know what he has done ? " 
 
 " He's dun nowt as he needs ta be shawmed 
 on, Aw'll back," cried the Clogger doggedly. 
 
 " Ashamed," cried the " super," beginning to 
 feel that Beckside morality was laxer even than 
 he had expected. " It's not a matter for shame, 
 it's a matter for punishment. The law of the 
 land punishes it, and the Church certainly can- 
 not be below that. If all I hear be true, we 
 shall be compelled to expel him." 
 
 " Hexpel ! Ay, yo'll ha' plenty of hex- 
 pellin' ta dew if yo' starten wi' Nathan. Yo'll 
 ha' t' hexpel us aw woll yo're abaat it."
 
 io6 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 " But, Mr. Jabez, it is a misdemeanour ; you 
 cannot know what he has done, to talk like 
 that." 
 
 " Well, wot has he done ? " shouted the Clog- 
 ger petulantly, whilst both his face and that 
 of Ben became dark with gathering storm- 
 clouds. 
 
 " Done ? Why, he has struck his wife." 
 
 The anger-puckers suddenly straightened 
 themselves out on the faces of the two friends. 
 An amused mischievous light leapt into their 
 eyes, and after a momentary effort to control 
 themselves they burst into a low chuckling 
 laugh. 
 
 The " super " was indignant. Had these men 
 no sense of shame in them ? And, besides, 
 their laughter was insulting. 
 
 " An' han yo' cummed aw th' way fro' Dux- 
 bury abaat that ? " asked Jabe, when he could 
 check himself. 
 
 " Certainly ! and I am pained and humiliated 
 to see that you think so lightly of the matter. 
 It may be Beckside morality, but it is not 
 mine, and it's not the morality of the New 
 Testament either." 
 
 But even this sharp sally could not disturb 
 the serene good temper into which the two 
 cronies had laughed themselves, and after en- 
 joying another broad grin, Jabe said — 
 
 " Bless yo', Mester ' Shuper,' yo' dooan't knaw 
 Beckside yet, an' Aw'm feart yo' dooan't knaw
 
 TATTY ENTWISTLE'S RETURN 107 
 
 women fooak nother. Naa, tak' yo'r coit off 
 and hang it upo' that peg on th' parlour dur, 
 an' come an' sit yo' daan, woll Aw tell yo' a 
 thing or two." 
 
 After getting the minister an old leathern 
 cushion to lean his back upon against the 
 chimney jamb, he continued — 
 
 " Women, Mestur ' Shuper,' are loike dogs ; 
 the woss yo' sarve 'em the better they loike 
 yo.' Han yo' niver noaticed as aw th' scamps 
 i' th' country has good wives as 'ull welly dee 
 for 'em ? But if yo' foind a felley as is a 
 gradely dacent chap, a bit better nor common, 
 he's sartin ta be henpecked. Well, its o' 
 thatunce wi' Nathan. Hoo's a dacent hard- 
 workin' woman, but that nattering, an' unyessy, 
 an' discontented, ther's noa biding near her. 
 A felley as has lived wi' her i' this loife 'ull 
 need noa purgatory i' th' next, Aw con tell 
 yo.' " 
 
 Having thus got fairly going, Jabe pro- 
 ceeded at length to give the minister a full 
 and particular account of the marital ex- 
 periences of poor Nathan, interspersed with 
 sententious moralisings on the ways and wiles 
 of women. 
 
 Nathan, it appeared, had been married into 
 the teens of years. He and his wife were 
 both members of the Church at the time of 
 their marriage, but about three years after 
 Nathan fell into drinking habits, driven to
 
 io8 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 it, Jabe averred, by the " nattering " of his wife. 
 However that may have been, in Nathan's 
 drunken days Tatty was a model wife, patient 
 and still-tongued, loyal to her husband, and 
 ready to quarrel with anybody who spoke 
 a word against the blacksmith. Everything 
 that womanly ingenuity could devise was done 
 by Tatty to shield her husband and preserve 
 his character. 
 
 During this time, also, she was most diligent 
 at all the means of grace, took great interest 
 in all chapel affairs, and prayed incessantly 
 at class and prayer meetings for her husband's 
 reclamation. 
 
 After a while, Nathan came to his senses, 
 chiefly through the good offices of the Clogger 
 and his friends. Tatty was, of course, greatly 
 delighted and thankful, and Nathan was never 
 tired of proclaiming how much he owed to the 
 patience and kindness of his wife in his wild days. 
 
 Gradually Nathan was drawn into Church 
 work, and as he could write better than most 
 of his associates, was installed chapel steward, 
 which office he had held ever since. But as 
 Nathan's zeal waxed warm. Tatty's grew cold. 
 It soon required all Nathan's persuasive powers 
 to keep her going to chapel at all. She ceased 
 altogether to attend class and prayer meetings, 
 and whilst willing for Nathan to attend the 
 sanctuary, she ceased to see any particular 
 reason for doincf so herself
 
 TATTY ENTWISTLE'S RETURN 109 
 
 In course ot time she discovered that Nathan 
 had too much to do at the chapel. As they 
 had no living children, she complained of her 
 loneliness, and in swearing, nagging tones 
 rated Nathan, saying again and again, " Tha'rt 
 allis aat o' th' haase." 
 
 The Clog Shop, however, became her most 
 particular aversion. Its owner and his friends 
 were denounced without measure or mercy, 
 and though Nathan was one of the least 
 regular visitors to this favourite village resort, 
 he came in for more abuse about it than all 
 the other transgressors put together. 
 
 Nathan played the bass viol in the band, 
 which, of course, brought that cherished in- 
 stitution into ill repute with his wife, and 
 latterly the practice nights before the " Sar- 
 mons " had been times of tribulation for the 
 blacksmith. More than once he had found 
 the strings of his instrument cut when he 
 reached it down from the joists to take it to 
 the practice, and when, on the third occurrence 
 of the kind, he bluntly charged his wife with 
 doing the damage, she flew into a " tantrum," 
 flounced out of the house, and went away to 
 Duxbury to her sister's. 
 
 Poor Nathan, deeply attached to his wife, 
 and full of grateful memories of her bygone 
 faithfulness, was perplexed and alarmed when 
 she did not come home that night. And 
 next morning he was at Duxbury by break-
 
 no CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 fast-time, humbly begging Tatty's pardon and 
 coaxing her to come back again. 
 
 But something of the same kind occurred 
 again not long after, and Mrs. Nathan went off 
 again ; and since then, at every little tiff, Tatty 
 might be seen sitting like a statue at the far end 
 of the coach on her way to Duxbury, and Nathan 
 was certain to follow in a few hours or days at 
 most, to get forgiven and bring her back. 
 
 Of course such proceedings soon became 
 common property, and whenever Nathan's wife 
 was absent from home, the blacksmith was 
 quizzed by his customers at the smithy as to 
 when he was going to fetch her back. 
 
 Another element of difficulty between the 
 two and, perhaps at bottom the cause of all 
 the rest, was that they were childless. Three 
 of their four little ones had died in infancy, 
 and the fourth — little Nathan, a wee fragile 
 bit of humanity — lived to be about four years " 
 of age and then quietly faded out. 
 
 Some time before his death, however, Nathan 
 had taken him into the smithy one afternoon 
 against his wife's wishes, and whilst there the 
 little fellow trod upon the head of a long- 
 shafted hammer, which tilted up quickly and 
 struck the little fellow on the temples. He 
 dropped on the floor like a dead thing, and 
 Nathan with a wild cry snatched him up and 
 carried him into the cottage. He soon re- 
 covered, and seemed all right ; the doctor,
 
 TATTY ENTWISTLE'S RETURN in 
 
 in fact, said that he was very little the worse, 
 but as he died about a month after, although 
 the doctor scoffed at the idea of the accident 
 having anything to do with the child's decease, 
 its mother evidently had her own opinion on 
 the subject, and in moments of anger of late 
 had darkly hinted that but for Nathan she 
 might still have had " one comfort i' loife." 
 
 To a man pining for child-love, this was 
 hard to endure, and on the day of the now 
 notorious quarrel, Tatty, carried beyond all 
 restraint, had openly charged her husband 
 with responsibility for the death of the little 
 one. Nathan, smarting with a sense of cruel 
 injustice and white with indignation, lost all 
 control of himself, and struck his wife a smart 
 slap on the face. Upon which Tatty had 
 taken her usual excursion, adding this time, 
 the serious step of going to tell the minister. 
 
 This, and much more, was told to the "super" 
 as he sat toasting his shins before the Clog 
 Shop fire, and by the time that Jabe had 
 finished, he had veered round decisively to 
 Nathan's side of the question, and proposed 
 to go down to the smithy and offer Nathan 
 his sympathy, suggesting also that he should 
 go and persuade Tatty to return home. 
 
 " Yo' mun dew nowt o' th' sooart. Let 
 her bide, an' come whoam when hoo's ready. 
 An* leave Nathan ta uz ; we'll poo' him 
 through, yo'll see."
 
 112 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 When the minister had gone, the two 
 stewards fell into close consultation on the 
 case in hand, and decided that this time, 
 instead of avoiding the subject carefully, out 
 of respect to Nathan's feelings, they would 
 wait their opportunity and persuade him to 
 bring things to a crisis by letting his wife stay 
 away until she came back of her own accord. 
 
 Two or three nights later, Nathan sauntered 
 into the Clog Shop in that restless, absent 
 manner which always came upon him when 
 his wife was away. Jabe, still at his bench, 
 followed the blacksmith with his eyes as he 
 passed up the shop, and having previously 
 resigned his position of chief spokesman to 
 Ben for this occasion only, he motioned to 
 him that now was the time, and then turned 
 round again and went on with his work with 
 much unnecessary demonstrativeness. 
 
 Ben silently handed his tobacco-box to 
 the newcomer. The two smoked on for some 
 moments without speaking; and then Ben 
 leaned forward out of the nook and said in 
 a low voice, which was not quite so steady 
 as it ought to have been — 
 
 " We've bin killin' a pig ; wilt come an' 
 ha' thy dinner wi' us o' Sunday ? " 
 
 Nathan's lip quivered, tears swam in his 
 eyes, and he stared steadily before him without 
 speaking. 
 
 Ben took several long draws at his pipe.
 
 TATTY ENTWISTLE'S RETURN 113 
 
 and then, touching Nathan gently on the 
 knee, he said soothingly — 
 
 " Every heart knoweth its own bitterness." 
 
 Nathan seemed shaken by a sort of internal 
 convulsion. He bent forward, propped his 
 chin on his knees, and sat staring into the 
 fire, whilst great tears splashed down upon 
 the chip ashes at his feet. 
 
 Jabe, at his bench, had suddenly stopped 
 working, and was holding his breath to listen, 
 though his eyes were still fixed on his work. 
 
 Presently Nathan faltered : " Hay, bud Aw 
 dew loike aar Tatty. Aw'll fetch her whoam 
 i' th' morn." 
 
 " Tha'll dew nowt o' th' sooart," shouted 
 Jabe from his bench ; and, dropping further 
 pretence of work, he threw down his hammer, 
 and, unable any longer to keep out of the 
 business, came and joined them at the fire, 
 and plunged at once into hot discussion on 
 the hitherto forbidden topic. 
 
 Ben and he insisted that Nathan had made 
 his own trouble by always being so anxious to 
 get his wife back ; that he would have no 
 peace of his life until she was cured of this 
 habit, and that as she was " a dacent woman 
 enough i' mooast things," it was his duty to 
 make one supreme effort to bring her to her 
 senses. They prophesied that she would be 
 sure to come back soon, and that, if once she 
 had to come of her own accord, there w^ould 
 
 8
 
 114 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 be an end to her vagaries, at anyrate in that 
 direction. 
 
 Nathan took a great deal of persuading, and 
 both his advisers realised that their task was 
 only commenced, for, as Jabe said, the black- 
 smith would " tak' a lot o' keeping to it." 
 
 And indeed he did. Lonely at home, save 
 for the occasional presence of a girl who came 
 to do the housework, he spent his evenings at 
 the Clog Shop, and often when the rest had 
 left for the night all the arguments had to be 
 gone over again, and all the objections once 
 more answered. 
 
 Slowly Nathan settled down to a dogged 
 endurance of his troubles, praying almost 
 night and day that the Lord would forgive 
 him for his part in the trouble, and soften 
 the heart of his absent wife toward him. 
 
 Meanwhile Tatty gave no sign, and as 
 everybody avoided naming her to the black- 
 smith, he did not even hear the bits of news 
 of her that did reach the village. 
 
 It was reported at the Clog Shop that 
 Tatty was looking " ter'ble bad " ; and whilst 
 some of the cronies cried, " Sarve her reet," 
 Long Ben remarked softly, " Hoo'll be whoam 
 afoor lung, yo'll see." 
 
 One night Nathan, heavy of heart and out 
 of love with all the world, pulled the sneck 
 out of his cottage door and strolled wearily 
 towards his favourite resort.
 
 TATTY ENTWISTLE'S RETURN 115 
 
 As he approached, he heard a number of 
 voices raised in animated discussion, and, 
 opening the door, he came upon a rather 
 odd scene. 
 
 There, on a clog stool behind the counter, 
 sat Lige, the road-mender, with a face beam- 
 ing with mystery, importance, and delight, 
 holding on his knees a bundle of old clothes 
 containing a very young baby ; and standing 
 over him, scarcely less excited, were several 
 others of the Clog Shop fraternity. 
 
 " Aw wor com in' whoam fro' my wark up 
 th' Brogden Loan [Lane], an' Aw yerd it 
 skriking i' th' hedge bottom," cried Lige, in 
 answer to Nathan's look of amazement. 
 
 " It'll be some poor wench's chance-chilt. 
 Aw reacon," said Long Ben, in pitying tones. 
 
 " It's a bonny un, chuse wot it is," said 
 Jabe, with unwonted music in his voice as 
 he turned back the edge of the old Paisley 
 shawl in which it was wrapped, and looked 
 intently into its face. 
 
 The child gazed up at him with owl-like 
 solemnity, and then puckered its mouth as 
 if it would have spoken if it could, and the 
 hard, crusty, misogamous old Clogger beamed 
 upon it with delight as he murmured — 
 
 " Bless thi, tha'rt ta pratty for a chance- 
 chilt." 
 
 Just then Nathan came round the corner 
 of the counter, and bent down over the baby.
 
 ii6 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 After gazing at it a moment he stepped back, 
 and surveying the Httle bundle of rags and 
 humanity, he asked — 
 
 " Wot art goin' ta dew wi' it, Liger ? 
 
 Before we could answer, Jabe broke in — 
 
 " Aar Judy can tak' cur on it ta-neet, and 
 i' th' morning Aw — Aw — reacon it'll ha' ta be 
 ta'n to th' bastile [workhouse]." 
 
 There was silence for a moment or two, 
 every man looking a strong protest, but feeling 
 that he could think of no better thing to do. 
 
 " Has ony on yo' ony idea whoase it is ? " 
 asked Nathan, still looking hard at the little 
 one, which was just beginning to cry. 
 
 " It's noabry's abaat here," said Sam Speck, 
 who, through his sister Lottie, knew all the 
 secrets of the village. 
 
 " Then, Aw'll have it," cried Nathan, and 
 before Lige could object he had snatched the 
 baby from his knee, and was dandling it up 
 and down to stop its crying. 
 
 " Thee tak' it ? " objected Lige, taken aback, 
 and not too pleased to be thus summarily 
 robbed of his treasure ; " wi' thy wife " — 
 
 But he stopped, and could have bitten his 
 tongue off as he remembered what he was 
 saying; but Nathan took it up. 
 
 " Ay ! wife or noa wife, Aw'll tak' it. Aw 
 mun ha' summat i' th' haase ta talk to." 
 
 Others were raising objections, but a new 
 idea had evidently struck Long Ben, and.
 
 TATTY ENTWISTLE'S RETURN 117 
 
 motioning and winking at the rest, he gently 
 encouraged Nathan in his purpose, and in a 
 few moments a small procession started for the 
 smithy, led by the blacksmith proudly carrying 
 his new-found joy. 
 
 Arrived at the cottage, Nathan held the 
 baby whilst Lige went upstairs to fetch the 
 long-disused cradle, and Sam Speck put a pan 
 of milk on the fire to provide the little one 
 with food. 
 
 In a few minutes Long Ben turned up, 
 bringing his buxom wife, who, after expressing 
 lofty scorn of the blundering ways of men folk, 
 took the baby from Nathan, and, after cuddling 
 and kissing it, pulled out a bundle of old baby 
 clothes, and soon had it washed, dressed, fed, 
 and asleep in the cradle. 
 
 When the others departed, they left Nathan 
 pulling the cradle string and humming " Rock 
 of Ages," as he had done so often in days gone 
 by, and musing pathetically over his former 
 experiences, now so vividly brought back to 
 his mind. It was arranged that Mrs. Ben 
 should fetch the baby presently for the night, 
 until some other arrangement could be made. 
 
 Nobody claimed the little one, and Nathan, 
 to his great delight, remained in undisturbed 
 possession of it. The baby came on famously, 
 and crept so deep into Nathan's heart that 
 Mrs. Ben began to fear it would take the place 
 of the absent Tatty. One night Ben was the
 
 ii8 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 victim of a severe curtain lecture, and next day 
 being market day, Mrs. Ben set off in the coach 
 to Duxbury. 
 
 After doing her business, she made her way 
 into a quiet part of the town, and in a few 
 moments was sitting talking confidentially with 
 Nathan's wife. 
 
 Tatty, looking thin and pensive, made all 
 sorts of inquiries about Beckside and its doings, 
 but carefully avoided any reference to the 
 smithy. 
 
 Mrs. Ben tried several times to draw her, 
 but it was of no avail, until at last, growing 
 desperate, she blurted out — 
 
 " Hast yerd wot yo're Nathan's getten ? " 
 
 " Neaw." 
 
 " Whey, he's getten a babby." 
 
 Tatty turned and looked with a long, 
 wistful, sidelong glance at her friend, and then 
 with a great sigh changed the subject, and 
 could not be brought back to it. 
 
 But Mrs. Ben knew what she was about, and 
 next night after dark, the tall, wan form of 
 Tatty Entwistle might have been seen stealing 
 down the darker side of the Beckside road 
 toward the smithy. 
 
 The blacksmith's shop stood sideway on to 
 the road, and the cottage was behind it, facing 
 into the smithy yard, Tatty stole quietly up 
 amongst heaps of old iron, cart hoops, and 
 disabled agricultural implements, and was soon
 
 TATTY ENTWISTLE'S RETURN 119 
 
 at the side of the house. Nathan, man-like, 
 had lighted the lamp, but had forgotten to 
 draw the blind. 
 
 Tatty drew softly near, stole along the 
 house side until she was close to the window, 
 and then, standing on a broken pulley, which 
 enabled her to see over the curtain, she peered 
 round the corner of the window into the house. 
 
 There sat Nathan in the rocking-chair, with 
 the baby in his arms, talking to it as he rocked 
 it. Her heart smote her as she saw how thin 
 her husband's face had become, but that pain 
 gave way to another of a quite different kind 
 as she saw how happy he seemed to be with 
 the little one. 
 
 It began to rain, but Tatty never felt it. 
 Presently the baby dozed off, and Nathan put 
 it into its cradle and made it cosy. The cradle 
 stood where she could see all this, and as she 
 watched there came into her eyes that hunger of 
 child-love which only a childless mother knows. 
 
 Then Nathan took something down from 
 the mantelpiece, and began to look earnestly 
 at it, whilst the firelight flickered up into his 
 face. It was a little glass photo of Tatty, taken 
 at the last Brogden wakes, and the watching 
 woman almost cried out as she saw him looking 
 at it so intently. 
 
 Suddenly he fell to his knees with the like- 
 ness still in his hands, and though she could 
 not quite hear what he said, yet the way he
 
 I20 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 held up the little photo as if showing it to 
 his Maker told her all she wanted to know. 
 
 Then Nathan got up, and after glancing at 
 the cradle he put on his coat and went out. 
 Tatty crept back into the shade of the coal 
 house to avoid being seen as her husband 
 crossed the yard. When she was sure he had 
 gone, she stepped out of her hiding-place, picked 
 up a bit of old iron, which she could see on the 
 ground by the light through the window, and 
 inserting it into the hole of the sneck, gently 
 lifted the latch and went inside. 
 
 The first thing she did was to go to the 
 mantelpiece and make sure that it was her 
 likeness that Nathan had been looking at. 
 Then she turned to the cradle, half smiled 
 as she noted how clumsily the baby had 
 been put into it, and then, turning down 
 the coverlet, she stood looking down on the 
 sleeping infant. 
 
 It was certainly pretty. What if it had 
 crept into her place in Nathan's heart ! Oh, 
 what a fool she had been, and what a sinner 
 too! 
 
 But just then a step at the door made her 
 start. A smothered exclamation told her that 
 Nathan had returned. But she did not move. 
 Her back was to him, but she felt he was 
 looking at her. There they both stood for 
 quite a long time, until at last, slightly turning 
 towards him, she asked —
 
 TATTY ENTWISTLE'S RETURN 121 
 
 " Whoa's is this babby, Nathan ? " 
 
 " It's moine." 
 
 " Tha'rt no' it's fayther." 
 
 " Neaw, bud Aw'm goin' ta be, if God helps 
 me. 
 
 There was silence again for most of a 
 minute, and then Tatty turned her back full 
 upon her husband again, and dropping her 
 head, murmured — 
 
 " Aw — Aw'll be its muther, if tha'll let me." 
 
 Then she heard a sob behind her, felt herself 
 being drawn down into a chair, and in a 
 moment more was held fast in the tight, 
 silent embrace of the now happy blacksmith. 
 
 Hours after, as Nathan was picking up the 
 cradle to carry it upstairs, baby and all, he 
 noticed that the child's clothes had been 
 changed, and it was wearing the night-gown 
 of the little Nathan they had lost. As he 
 made toward the staircase, his wife said — 
 
 " Has t'baby a name, Nathan ? " 
 
 " Neaw, no' yet." 
 
 " Then we'll caw him Nathan, shall us ? " 
 
 And that was how Tatty Entwistle came 
 home.
 
 Coals of Fire 
 
 123
 
 Coals of Fire 
 
 Four dusky figures sat toasting themselves at 
 the Clog Shop fire. Long Ben occupied the 
 ingle-nook nearest the door, and Sam Speck 
 the other, whilst Jabe and Jethro, the knocker- 
 up, were in front. A heavy thaw was going 
 on outside, and the fire was therefore so large 
 that those who did not enjoy the shelter of 
 the nook, were, as Jethro remarked, " frizzled 
 o' wun side an' frozzen o' t'other." 
 
 Evidently something serious was under dis- 
 cussion. Jabe's bristly brows were drawn 
 together, his lips pursed out grimly, and his 
 tell-tale leg was riding up and down over the 
 end of the other knee at a furious rate. Sam's 
 small face seemed to have sharpened under 
 some internal feeling, and Jethro sat in his 
 favourite attitude, with his chin propped on 
 his knees, glowering into the fire. Long Ben's 
 flabby and hairy face was drawn up into that 
 pathetic pucker suggestive of imminent weep- 
 ing, which it always assumed when anything 
 mentally disagreed with him. 
 
 "Ther'U be a ter'ble judgment for aw this," 
 
 125
 
 126 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 said Jethro, moving his head round solemnly in 
 his knee-propped hands. 
 
 " Well, if there isna, Aw'st give o'er believin' 
 i' Providence, that's aw abaat it," said Sam, with 
 great emphasis. 
 
 " Dunna thee meyther thysel'," answered 
 Jabe. " Aw've lived a good while naa, an' Aw 
 ne'er seed it miss yet. If ther's owt trew i' th' 
 Bible it's th' owd text, * Be sure your sin will 
 find you out,' an' it allis does — an' especially 
 sins o' this soart." 
 
 " Why, dust think as th' Almighty's wuss 
 daan o' this mak' o' sins nor ony other ? " 
 asked Jethro. 
 
 " Aw meean to say as Aw've known a tooathre 
 [two or three] chaps i' my time as hez played 
 fawse wi' women, but Aw hav'n't known wun 
 case wheer it didn't cum back on 'em ten times 
 wus. Neaw," he added, after a moment's reflec- 
 tion, " not th' odd un." 
 
 The general principle laid down by Jabe 
 obtained unanimous acceptance in Beckside, 
 but this particular application of it was new, 
 and so his friends sat in silence for a few 
 moments meditating on the law thus ex- 
 pounded, and ransacking their memories for 
 examples confirmatory or otherwise. 
 
 " If Jimmy Juddy hed as mitch pluck as a 
 maase " (mouse), began Sam presently — but 
 just then the shop door opened, and in stepped 
 a man, stamping his slushy clogs as he did so.
 
 COALS OF FIRE 127 
 
 He was a stumpy fellow with a rough red face, 
 a slight cast in one eye, and a fringe of straight 
 red hair under his chin. 
 
 Jabe and Jethro, as soon as they saw who 
 the visitor was, made pantomimic facial signals 
 to those in the nook, and looked hard for a 
 moment at each other, and then at their pipe 
 bowls. 
 
 " Cowd neet, chaps," said the last comer, but 
 nobody spoke, and Sam muttered something 
 under his breath about " impidence." 
 
 " Hast ony 'bacca ? " said the stranger to 
 Jabe, pulling out his pipe ; but Jabe, usually 
 generous in his distribution of dark shag, 
 neither moved nor spoke. 
 
 The intruder perched himself on the protrud- 
 ing end of the bench on which Long Ben sat, 
 and after glancing round with a slightly per- 
 plexed look slapped Jabe on the sleeve and 
 said, with a show of triumph — 
 
 " Naa, tha sees ; wheer should Aw ha' been 
 if Aw'd wed yond' wench ? Aw should a' 
 leuked weel wi' a paralysed wife, shouldn't 
 Aw ? Aw wor nobbut just i' time, tha sees ; 
 bud maa luck " — 
 
 But he never finished his tale of self-gratula- 
 tion, for he was suddenly seized from behind by 
 the coat collar, jerked to his feet, and then 
 lifted up and thrown across the Clog Shop 
 counter, as a schoolmaster throws a boy over 
 a bench, and Long Ben, with white, quivering
 
 128 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES - 
 
 face and blazing eyes, stood over him, and 
 picking up an unfinished clog sole held him 
 tightly down, and belaboured him, schoolmaster 
 fashion, until he kicked and bellowed and even 
 cursed. 
 
 Laying on until the victim's howl became a 
 shriek, Ben suddenly stopped, opened the shop- 
 door, and flung the sufferer out into the dark 
 road, where he landed in a heap of slushy 
 snow. 
 
 Quietly closing the door and putting down 
 the catch, so that the offender could not return, 
 Ben lounged back to his seat in the nook in a 
 somewhat breathless condition. 
 
 After the first little start of surprise, the 
 assembled friends had watched Ben's proceed- 
 ings with considerable satisfaction, and now — 
 though not a muscle of their faces moved — they 
 listened to the evicted visitor's curses out- 
 side without a single sign that they heard ; 
 and the next remark that was made was on a 
 totally different subject, which gives an oppor- 
 tunity of explaining the meaning of what had 
 just happened. 
 
 The man whose ignominious expulsion has 
 been described lived at the other — that is, the 
 Mill Lane — end of the irregular little row of 
 cottages in which the Clog Shop stood. He 
 kept a sort of store, and, disclaiming all such 
 distinctions as usually obtain amongst trades- 
 men, seemed to have adopted the most profitable
 
 COALS OF FIRE 
 
 129 
 
 branches of each business, and was something 
 of a grocer, something of a draper, did a little 
 in the hardware and ironmongery, with a blend- 
 ing of chemistry, butchering, greengrocery, and 
 tailoring. It was even darkly hinted in certain 
 quarters that he was not above a little illicit 
 trade in clogs. 
 
 The building he occupied had been left to 
 him by his father, but so disposed of that he 
 could neither sell nor forfeit it. For a short 
 time the father ot the present occupant had 
 got the premises licensed, under the name of 
 the Bull Inn ; but as Beckside could not sus- 
 tain two public-houses, and the Bridge Inn was 
 well established, the speculation failed, but ever 
 afterwards the villagers associated the owners 
 with this unfortunate venture, and so the 
 present occupant was known, not as Hiram 
 Crompton, but as Hiram Bull, or, by the older 
 people, as Hiram Bill Bull. 
 
 Hiram possessed strong, rude health, which 
 gave him a good flow of animal spirits, and 
 developed in him the habit of loud, blustering 
 laughter; but that this was not good nature 
 was made abundantly clear by the fact that he 
 manifested an unscrupulous directness as to his 
 own interests, a total disregard for the feelings 
 and interests of others, and a keen enjoy- 
 ment of misfortune or suffering in his fellow- 
 mortals. 
 
 There was also a certain rough smartness 
 
 9
 
 I30 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 about him and a sublime self-confidence, 
 which made the oracular Jabe say again and 
 again that " Brains is nowt wheer brazzenness 
 cums." 
 
 Some time before the episode above de- 
 scribed, Alice Crawshaw, Jimmy Juddy's sister, 
 who at that period was a sweet, fair-haired girl 
 of about four-and- twenty, amazed everybody 
 by accepting an offer of marriage from 
 Hiram. 
 
 That Jimmy disapproved of the union goes 
 without saying. There was a series of painful 
 scenes at Beck Bottom, first between Jimmy and 
 Hiram, and then between Jimmy and his sister, 
 but Hiram carried the day, and Alice seemed 
 infatuated. In his loud way the storekeeper 
 was proud of his conquest, but more because 
 it was a triumph over others than because he 
 had any extraordinary attachment to Alice. 
 
 Becksiders never became reconciled to the 
 arrangement, for every few days some new 
 story of Hiram's greed or cruelty was circu- 
 lated, and people pitied Alice when it was 
 known that the wedding-day was fixed, and 
 the bride-elect was making her wedding-dress 
 and bespeaking the guests. 
 
 One night about this time Long Ben went 
 to the Clog Shop with a face that was a flag 
 of distress. Jabe, who was alone, perceived it, 
 and knew better than to ask any questions. 
 Presently, after many relightings of a pipe,
 
 COALS OF FIRE 131 
 
 which somehow would not keep in, Ben 
 applied a blazing chip to his clay, and 
 remarked, between the resultant puffs in his 
 slow way — 
 
 " * Bill Bull ' 'ull ne'er be deead while his son 
 lives." 
 
 It sounded as though he had finished, but 
 Jabe knew better, and so commenced picking 
 wax from his horny fingers, and Ben pulled a 
 nail out of his pocket and poked it down the 
 still refractory pipe-bowl as he resumed — 
 
 " Aw seed him clippin' (embracing) Tom 
 Plum's widder o'er th' caanter as Aw went 
 past this forenoon." 
 
 An exclamation broke from Jabe's lips, but 
 he checked himself as Ben continued. 
 
 " Tha'll see, there'll be noa weddin' at th' 
 Beck Bottom yond'." 
 
 And so it proved. For though poor Tom 
 Bibby, generally known as Tom Plum, had 
 only been dead a few weeks, Hiram had 
 already shown quite extraordinary energy in 
 obtaining the widow's smile, and as Tom had 
 left her ;6^i200 nobody looked far for the 
 reason. Alice Crawshaw heard of the matter 
 pretty early, of course, but laughed at the idea 
 of it, and went gaily on with her bridal pre- 
 parations. 
 
 She wanted a little dress lining of some sort 
 one day, and slipped up to Hiram's as the 
 nearest shop to procure it.
 
 132 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 After a little playful talk during her selec- 
 tion of the material, she turned to go, when 
 Hiram called her back and said with smiling 
 brutality — 
 
 " Ther' mun be noa moar marlocking be- 
 tween thee an' me, Alice. Aw'm goin' t' 
 marry Tilly Plum next week." 
 
 Alice gasped, but the entrance of a customer 
 set Hiram off in a garrulous conversation with 
 the last arrival, and poor Alice, with white face 
 and whiter lips, held her hand to her side and 
 fled home. 
 
 A few days later Hiram and Tilly went 
 away to be married, and returned home on 
 what should have been Alice's wedding-day. 
 Alice had never been seen in the village since. 
 
 Quiet Jimmy, her brother, not yet recovered 
 from the disgrace of his dismissal from the 
 mill, went about with his head down, and old 
 Matty, their mother, had fainted in the class- 
 meeting, and Long Ben had had to take her 
 home in his spring cart. 
 
 Next morning news passed from loom to 
 loom in the mill weaving-shed that the doctor 
 had been seen going in great haste to Beck 
 Bottom, and by noon everybody knew that 
 Alice Juddy had had a stroke. 
 
 This last event was the one under discus- 
 sion when Hiram entered the Clog Shop, and 
 the details now given will explain what then 
 took place.
 
 COALS OF FIRE 133 
 
 But Hiram continued to prosper, and the 
 prophecies with which this story commenced 
 remained unfulfilled. But they were not for- 
 gotten. Hiram was not the sort of person to 
 hide his light under a bushel, and every now 
 and again some fresh act of hard, brazen greed 
 brought him vividly before people's minds, and 
 evoked fresh crops of fateful prediction. 
 
 Then Tilly died, and Hiram, after making a 
 scene of blubbering emotion at the grave which 
 caused Silas the chapel-keeper to declare, " Aw 
 welly picked him into th' hoile," dismissed the 
 mourners without the customary tea, and was 
 seen out the same evening at his favourite 
 sport of rabbit-shooting. 
 
 In a few weeks the storekeeper brought 
 another wife home, a stranger, but as he was 
 disappointed in his expectation that she was 
 well off, — her money going from her on her 
 re-marriage, — she was, as Jabe put it, " nattered 
 ta deeath i' noa time." 
 
 Then Hiram by some trickery got posses- 
 sion of a bit of land at the end of Long Ben's 
 property, and immediately set up a most 
 unscrupulous claim as to the right of light, 
 and proceeded on resistance to put up " spite 
 and malice boards " outside Ben's end win- 
 dows. This drove the quiet carpenter into 
 most distasteful litigation, from which he 
 finally withdrew at the eleventh hour, leaving 
 Hiram to gloat over an expensive victory.
 
 r.34 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 Besides these more prominent episodes, " Th' 
 Bull," as he was now invariably called, kept 
 himself in people's minds by numberless acts 
 of petty cheating and oppression, aggravating 
 the feeling against him until the Clog Shop 
 Club gave up prediction in despair; and Sam 
 Speck became so cynical in his remarks about 
 Providence, that Jabe declared it was " nowt 
 short o' blasphem/ous." 
 
 Then Hiram began to gamble, and became 
 the chief patron of the pigeon-fliers and foot- 
 racers who frequented the Bridge Inn, greatly 
 angering Jabe and his friends by exploiting 
 one of the most promising youths at the 
 Sunday School, and turning him into a sprint- 
 runner under the title of " the Lancashire 
 Deerfoot." 
 
 When Jimmy Juddy was married, and came 
 with his sister and mother to live at the Fold 
 farm, Hiram had the effrontery to try to 
 patch up the long estrangement, but Jimmy's 
 wife undertook the matter, and so " cooamed 
 his yure" (hair) for him that he was glad to 
 get away, and revenged himself by mocking poor 
 Alice's lameness as she went past on her crutch. 
 
 This last offence was still burning in the 
 breasts of the confederates of the cloggery, 
 when most startling news came to Beckside. 
 Old Croppy, the Brogden rent and debt col- 
 lector, brought it, and told it to the first person 
 he met, who happened to be Sam Speck.
 
 COALS OF FIRE 135 
 
 Without waiting for full details, Sam hurried 
 to the Clog Shop and electrified Jabe by 
 opening the door and shouting : " It's cum at 
 last," and then rushed out to fetch Ben, picking 
 up Jethro as he returned. 
 
 It was a proud moment for Sam, and after 
 banging the door to, and setting his back 
 against it, as if afraid someone would escape 
 before he could tell his tale, he exclaimed : 
 "'Th' Bull's' busted." 
 
 After a moment's pause to get his breath, he 
 descended to such details as he knew. Hiram 
 had embarked some three years before in a 
 coal-mine speculation at Yardley Woods, be- 
 yond Duxbury. Suddenly there had been a 
 collapse, and as his co-speculators were men of 
 no substance, and the liability was unlimited, 
 the creditors, who had been shamefully robbed, 
 came down on Hiram. 
 
 Croppy's report turned out to be substan- 
 tially correct, and when the sale came every 
 member of the Club attended, and seemed 
 to derive grim satisfaction from watching the 
 gradual despoilment of the oppressor's residence. 
 
 Hiram himself was there in his shirt sleeves, 
 pretending to render obsequious assistance to 
 the auctioneer and his clerks, and laughing his 
 hoarse laugh over sundry jokes of his own. 
 Towards evening, however, he grew quiet, and 
 a haggard, desperate look sat on his face. 
 
 When the sale was over there was an ad-
 
 136 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 journment to the usual council chamber. There 
 was only a small, make-believe fire, as it was 
 early summer, but the friends gathered round 
 it from sheer force of habit, and soon every 
 available seat was occupied, and the Clog Shop 
 full of smoke. Everybody saw retribution in 
 the circumstances of the day ; everybody ad- 
 mitted the ampleness of the "judgment"; and 
 everybody had his own particular wise saw or 
 text of Scripture to confirm his opinion. 
 
 " We con run fast and run fur, as wun o' th' 
 owd ministers used for t' say," said Lige, the 
 road-mender, " bud theer's Wun aboon as 
 'owds th' reins, and He can bring us daan 
 ta aar marraboanes ony minnit, if it suits 
 Him." 
 
 " Ay," sighed four or five, through pipe- 
 embarrassed lips, and the irrepressible Sam 
 gave a new turn to the conversation by 
 observing — 
 
 " Aw wundur wot he'll dew for a bed ta- 
 neet; he'll ha' ta lie upo' th' boards, Aw'm 
 thinkin'." 
 
 A rather lengthy silence followed, during 
 which each seemed to be occupied with his own 
 particular mental picture of the ruined man in 
 the empty house. 
 
 Long Ben, who had never spoken during 
 the discussion, now began to manifest signs 
 of uneasiness. After puffing out several 
 volumes of smoke in rapid succession, he
 
 COALS OF FIRE 137 
 
 heaved a deep sigh, and then said medita- 
 tively — 
 
 " He used dew my sums for mi at th' schoo'." 
 
 " Ay, an' he's bin doin' sums for folk ever 
 sin', as plenty knows ta the'r sorra," rejoined 
 Sam, and the rest, attracted by the first word 
 not condemnatory which had been spoken of 
 Hiram that night, turned their eyes on Ben in 
 mild surprise. 
 
 Ben fidgeted in his seat; and just when the 
 inquiring eyes were turning away from him, he 
 brought them back with wide open astonish- 
 ment as he murmured — 
 
 " When Aw wor i' bed wi' th' maysles, he 
 brought me a brid's neest wi' four eggs in — 
 just ta bree-breeten me up a bit," and Ben's 
 voice quivered most strangely as he recalled 
 this boyhood reminiscence. 
 
 " He's moastly spent his time robbin' neeses 
 (nests) sin' he grew up," said Sam again. 
 
 Ben made an impatient gesture with his 
 pipe, and Jabe, his eyes gleaming with a look 
 of injured justice, said — 
 
 " Why, tha'll want ta whitewesh owd Scratch 
 next." 
 
 There was an awkward pause, and presently 
 Ben took his pipe out of his mouth, carefully 
 and deliberately reared it in the extreme corner 
 of the nook, and then, rising to his full height, 
 and buttoning his coat as a preparation for 
 departure, he said —
 
 138 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 " Chaps, wot yo' say's reet enouff, bud Wun 
 as yo' aw know said, ' If thy enemy hunger, 
 feed him,' and Ben Barber's no' goin' t' sleep 
 in a warm bed ta neet while wun of his fellers 
 lies o' bare boards. Neaw, not even if his 
 name's Hiram Bull." 
 
 With an agitated gesture Ben strode to 
 the door. As he got opposite the window, 
 however, he suddenly pulled up, whilst the 
 rest all heard the Fold farm garden gate 
 click. 
 
 ■ Ben, peering through the dusty glass, made 
 an exclamation which instantly brought every 
 man in the shop to his side, and, following the 
 direction of his eyes, they saw Jimmy Juddy 
 looking cautiously up and down to see that 
 nobody was about. Then he stepped lightly 
 back into the house, and almost instantly 
 returned carrying a single bed and a pillow, 
 whilst Alice stole quietly after him carrying 
 in her free hand a basket of provisions. 
 
 Not a man in the shop drew his breath as 
 Jimmy and his sister crossed the triangle 
 toward Hiram's ; but when they had passed, 
 every man turned and looked into his neigh- 
 bour's face with an expression on his own of 
 wonder, admiration, and rising shame. 
 
 " Naa, that is religion," cried Long Ben at 
 last, struggling to keep back a rush of tears, 
 and then flinging open the door, and crying in 
 a choking voice, " Aw'll ne'er be byetten
 
 COALS OF FIRE 139 
 
 (beaten) wi' a lame woman," he plunged into 
 the twilight in the direction of home. 
 
 Hiram, under the combined influence of 
 drink and desperation, was attempting to sing a 
 public-house song, accompanied by two pigeon- 
 fliers who had come to offer him a bed for the 
 night, when Jimmy and his sister, white and 
 trembling, knocked at his door. 
 
 "Cum in," he shouted, and Jimmy stepped 
 into the middle of the almost empty room and 
 threw down the bed and pillow, whilst Alice, 
 her heart beating almost into her ears, followed 
 him. 
 
 *' It's nobbut a flock un, but tha'rt welcome 
 to it, Hiram," stammered Jimmy, straightening 
 himself, and Alice added, " An' heer's a tooathre 
 vittles fer — fer th' sake o' owd toimes ! " And 
 then she broke down and began to cry. 
 
 And then there came a bang at the half- 
 opened door, and Jabe came limping in with a 
 three-legged table, followed by Lige carrying 
 some fire-irons and an old copper kettle. Sam 
 Speck came next with a collection of crockery, 
 and in a minute or two afterwards Long Ben 
 brought a hand cart on which was a wooden 
 bedstead which he had actually taken from 
 under one of his own children. 
 
 By this time Hiram's sporting friends had 
 sidled off, and Hiram was sitting leaning his 
 head on one arm, which was laid across the 
 arm of his chair. One or two spoke to him.
 
 I40 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 but he never answered ; and so, at a signal from 
 Jabe, the visitors stole quietly away, and Hiram 
 was alone with the tokens of a human kindness 
 in which he had never believed. 
 
 Early next morning Jethro going his knock- 
 ing-up rounds, found the storekeeper pulling 
 down the " spite and malice boards " outside 
 Ben's side windows. And on the following 
 Sunday he slunk into chapel after the service 
 had commenced and crept into Silas' box 
 behind the door. Next week he was seen 
 helping Silas to clean the chapel out, and it 
 soon began to be prophesied that Alice Craw- 
 shaw and he would marry after all. 
 
 But they never did, for Jimmy's gentle 
 sister died next year, and Hiram almost im- 
 mediately emigrated, carrying with him one 
 strange piece of luggage : a woman's crutch. 
 Ever since then the collection at the " Sarmons " 
 has been helped up by a bank order from the 
 States, with which there always comes an 
 unsigned note, inscribed " IN MEMORY OF 
 Alice Crawshaw."
 
 The Knocker-up
 
 The Knocker-up 
 
 That all-important event the " Sarmons " was 
 approaching. The formal rehearsals for it 
 took place in the chapel during the fortnight 
 immediately preceding the great Sunday, but 
 the real hard work of the band was done at 
 the Clog Shop, and woe to the misguided 
 customer who came to do business after the 
 music had commenced. 
 
 It was the first practice of the season, and 
 one by one the members of the band entered 
 the shop, most of their faces wearing a caught- 
 in-the-act sort of look, for their instruments 
 had been taken down from their hanging- 
 places on house ceilings to a feminine accom- 
 paniment of railing against all bands in general 
 and the Beckside one in particular. 
 
 Each player as he arrived and began to tune 
 his instrument, inquired — 
 
 " Hasn't Jethro come yet ? " and the later 
 comers exchanged their query into — 
 
 " Wheer's Jethro ? " 
 
 Jethro, though not the leader of the band, 
 was its moving spirit, and far away the best
 
 144 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 musician in Beckside. He was usually the first 
 to arrive ; but now, although Nathan, the smith, 
 for whom they always had to wait, had come, 
 there were no signs of Jethro. 
 
 At last Sam Speck offered to " goa an' fotch 
 him," and whilst he is away on his errand I 
 will tell you about the missing bandsman : — 
 
 He was a spare little man of about sixty 
 years of age, and lived in a one-storey cottage, 
 two steps below the level of the road, on the 
 left-hand side as you went down towards the 
 Beck. 
 
 He was the village knocker-up, and went 
 his daily rounds with unfailing regularity every 
 morning, except Sunday, between the hours of 
 four and six. Over his shoulder he carried a 
 long, light pole, with wire prongs at the end, 
 with which he used to rattle at the bedroom 
 windows of the sleepy factory hands until he 
 received some signal from within that he had 
 been heard. 
 
 Though employed and paid by the " hands," 
 Jethro regarded himself as representing the 
 masters' interests, and if a post was unoccupied 
 or a loom " untented " when the engine started 
 at six o'clock, Jethro felt that it was a reflection 
 on his professional ability, and was ashamed 
 and hurt. 
 
 This doubtless accounted for the extraor- 
 dinary zeal which the old man put into his 
 work. The knocker-up was expected to go
 
 THE KNOCKER-UP 145 
 
 and knock a second time a few minutes before 
 six to stir up any drowsy one who might, per- 
 adventure, have fallen asleep again, and into 
 this second round, which was to many the real 
 signal for rising, Jethro put all his resources. 
 Not only the windows but the doors were 
 assailed, and in addition he would give a word 
 of exhortation in his thin piping voice — 
 
 " Bob ! Dust ye'r ? It's five minutes to 
 six ! Ger up, tha lazy haand (hound). If 
 tha dusn't ger up Aw'll come an poo' thi aat 
 o' bed." 
 
 At the next call he would drop into a 
 coaxing tone — 
 
 " Lizer ! Jinny ! Come, wenches ! You'll 
 ne'er ha' breet een (eyes) if yo' lie i' bed like 
 that." 
 
 After his rounds were finished, he would go 
 down to the mill to report " quarterings " and 
 sick cases, and to spend an hour with the 
 fireman. 
 
 Jethro was a light-hearted, merry old fellow, 
 who quoted Wesley's hymns by the yard on • 
 all possible occasions, and sang snatches of 
 them in the still mornings as he went his 
 rounds. 
 
 The knocker-up began his musical career as 
 a fiddler, but on visiting Manchester on one 
 occasion, and attending a great concert there, 
 he came back bringing a trombone, and though 
 there was considerable murmuring at the in- 
 
 10
 
 146 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 congruity of introducing a brass instrument 
 into a string and reed band, Jethro was so 
 indispensable that nobody openly rebelled. 
 
 This trombone was Jethro's chief earthly 
 pride and glory, and the source of untold 
 pleasure to him. He was, in fact, often 
 troubled with the fear that the very strength 
 of his affection for the instrument was a sign 
 of its unhallowed nature, and many of his 
 spiritual conflicts were fought about this un- 
 fortunate trumpet. 
 
 "The dearest idol I have known," etc., 
 
 was a favourite class-meeting verse at Beck- 
 side, but Jethro always sang it with painful 
 misgivings, which gave an additional quaver 
 to his tremulous tenor. In all pulpit utter- 
 ances, " stumbling - blocks," " besetting sins," 
 " spiritual idolatries," " false gods," and the 
 like spelt " trombone " to Jethro, and all 
 appeals for self-sacrifice brought up painful 
 visions of a possible parting with that cherished 
 instrument. 
 
 Once, indeed, it spent a Sunday night in 
 the back garden, where its owner had thrown 
 it in a fit of self-disgust at having played it 
 in a public-house, where he had substituted for 
 the sick trombonist of the Clough End brass 
 band. 
 
 But the conscience-smitten knocker-up could 
 not sleep whilst his beloved instrument lay 
 
 1
 
 THE KNOCKER-UP 147 
 
 among the cabbages, and he finally sneaked 
 out about three in the morning, brought in 
 his pet, went to bed again, and slept the sleep 
 of guilty peace. 
 
 Now Jethro had an only son, grown up and 
 married, who from the standpoint of the chapel 
 was a very unsatisfactory character. Every 
 Becksider, as I said before, believed in retri- 
 bution, and the father was haunted with the 
 suspicion that his son's prodigalities were 
 judgments upon himself for his idolatrous 
 love of his trombone. 
 
 By this time Sam Speck has returned from 
 his search for the missing musician. 
 
 " Aw say, chaps," he cried, " there's summat 
 up wi' th' owd lad ; " and as the fiddle-bows 
 stopped their scraping, he continued — 
 
 " He's sittin' afoor th' feire yond', and staring 
 into't like sumbry gloppened, an' Aw couldna 
 get a word aat on him," 
 
 The musicians looked at each other in 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Wor he in a fit, dust think ? " asked Jonas. 
 " Aw conna tell thi, but theer's summat 
 wrung wi' th' owd lad." 
 
 Jabe and Long Ben posted off instantly to 
 Jethro's cottage. Opening the door — for 
 knocking was a sign of stiffness — they found 
 him seated on a chair before an expired fire, 
 with his feet on the fender and his body bent 
 forward, so that he propped his chin with his
 
 148 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 arms, which, in their turn, were propped on 
 his knees. He never moved when the visitors 
 entered. 
 
 " Wot's up wi' thi, Jethro ? " asked Jabe, 
 approaching him with some hesitation. But 
 the knocker-up neither moved nor spoke. 
 
 Long Ben took a careful look round the 
 room, and finding nothing suggestive, he 
 leaned against the mantelpiece so as to get 
 a side light on Jethro's face, and then he 
 said soothingly — 
 
 " Come ! come ! owd lad, wot's up ? " 
 
 Jethro heaved a great sigh, and looked 
 wildly round, whilst Jabe, getting behind the 
 old man's chair, motioned to Ben not to 
 speak. 
 
 " It's a judgment on me," cried Jethro at 
 last. *' It's a judgment on me." 
 
 Ben was about to interrupt him, but Jabe 
 scowlingly motioned him to desist. 
 
 " It's my own doin'. * Be sure your sih 
 'ull find yo' aat ! ' An' it hez done ! It hez 
 done ! " 
 
 Another pause ; during which Jabe was 
 going through every kind of pantomimic 
 gesture he could think of to prevent Ben 
 from speaking. 
 
 " Aw carried him to th' chapel when he 
 wor three wik owd. He's been ta'n (taken) 
 theer for twenty ye'r. When he'd th' fayver 
 Aw fowt wi' th' Lord two neets an' a day,
 
 THE KNOCKER-UP 149 
 
 an' naa" — and the old man buried his head 
 in his hands and moaned piteously. 
 
 Jabe and Ben drew chairs up, and sitting 
 down one on each side of him, Long Ben 
 asked gently — 
 
 " Come, owd lad, wot's it aw abaat ? " 
 
 Jethro lifted his head out of his hands, 
 and asked, in a voice of tremulous surprise — 
 
 " Why, durn't yo' knaw ? " and Jabe and 
 his companion answered simultaneously, 
 " Neaw ! " 
 
 " Durn't yo' ? Why, aar Jethro ta'n th' 
 alehaase. O Absalom ! my son ! my son 
 Absalom ! " and the heart-broken old man 
 rose and stamped on the sanded floor in a 
 passion of grief and shame. 
 
 The only public-house in Beckside stood on 
 the left, a little below Jethro's house and 
 close to the Beck - bridge. The innkeeper 
 had died recently, and Jethro junior, unknown 
 to his father, had got the licence temporarily 
 transferred to himself. This young man 
 could not have taken a more cruel means 
 of inflicting pain on his old Methodist 
 father than the one he had adopted, and 
 whilst Jabe and Ben looked at each other 
 with dull sad astonishment, Jethro walked 
 about the house crying — 
 
 " Wot con Aw expect ? Didn't Aw let 
 th' trombone tak' me into a public-haase 
 mysel'? Aw never thowt it 'ud come whoam
 
 ISO CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 to me like this, but it hez ! it hez ! My sin 
 hez fun' me aat ! " 
 
 Nothing that could be said or done seemed 
 to pacify the old man, and his visitors felt that 
 to mention the suspended " practice " would be 
 to inflict pain. 
 
 For many a day after this Jethro went 
 about disconsolate. His voice was scarcely 
 ever heard in the silent road on a morning, 
 and when it was it sounded like a sad wail. 
 In spite of all that could be said, he was 
 firmly convinced that his son's conduct was 
 a sort of consequence of his own overweening 
 devotion to the trombone, though he was 
 never able quite to demonstrate the connection 
 between the two. No amount of persuasion 
 would induce him to play the trombone again, 
 and he dared not go near the Clog Shop 
 for fear of falling into temptation. 
 
 In a few days young Jethro moved into 
 the Bridge Inn, and the knocker-up spent 
 the whole of the removal day walking about 
 in the road in front of the alehouse, but 
 neither coaxing, nor flattery, nor reasoning, 
 could induce him to step across the threshold. 
 
 But when the door closed at night for the 
 first time on the new tenants, a haggard 
 old man might have been seen kneeling on 
 the steps and pouring out his soul in intense 
 and tearful supplication. 
 
 Young Jethro's wife was a bonnie brown-
 
 THE KNOCKER-UP 151 
 
 faced lassie, who had been a great favourite 
 with her father-in-law, and she had done 
 everything that woman's wheedling could do 
 to coax him into the house, but he vowed 
 again and again that he would never cross 
 the threshold. 
 
 Great, therefore, was Polly's astonishment 
 one morning, when old Jethro entered the 
 inn, but walked straight through into the 
 kitchen. 
 
 " Hay, fayther, bless yo' ! Aw am fain to 
 see yo'," she cried, rising from her chair 
 awkwardly ; " come an' sit yo' daan." 
 
 But the old man did not move. He stood 
 there in the middle of the room looking at 
 his daughter-in-law with sad solemn eyes. 
 
 " Doan't ston' theer, fayther ; sit yo' daan 
 an' Aw'll make yo' some tay." 
 
 But Jethro took a short step backwards, 
 and raising his hand, and looking for the 
 moment not unlike an old Hebrew prophet, 
 he said — 
 
 " Polly, if onybody 'ad towd me as my 
 fust gronchilt 'ud be born in a alehaase, 
 Aw'd a letten aar Jethro dee when he had 
 th' fayver ; he'd a bin safe then ; " and then 
 breaking down into a wail, and crying : " But 
 it's a judgment on me," the old man hastened 
 away. 
 
 Now the young landlord had not been 
 much disturbed by his father's protests, for
 
 152 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 he had not noticed that the circumstance had 
 taken the hold upon him which it had. 
 
 But two or three weeks innkeeping had 
 opened his eyes, and so the account his wife 
 gave of Jethro's visit made a deep impression 
 on him. 
 
 Meanwhile the old man's melancholy- 
 seemed to deepen. All the efforts of his 
 cronies to cheer him were vain, and as he 
 evidently dared not go near the Clog Shop, 
 the practices were seriously interfered with, 
 not only by the absence of the leading 
 spirit, but also by that of those who went 
 to keep their old friend company. 
 
 One cold, dull morning — for the spring 
 was late — old Jethro was seen hurrying up 
 the road past the Clog Shop as fast as he 
 could go, with a sack on his back. The sack 
 might not have attracted any attention, but 
 the suspicious haste with which it was being 
 carried excited great curiosity at the cloggery, 
 and Sam Speck followed very carefully to 
 see what " th' owd chap wor up to." 
 
 After passing the chapel, Jethro slackened 
 speed, and having turned the crest of the hill, 
 he sat down on a heap of stones, whilst 
 Sam was crouching behind the hedge and 
 watching him. 
 
 The poor fellow looked very miserable, 
 and after sitting for a minute or two he got 
 up, looked stealthily around, then opened
 
 THE KNOCKER-UP 153 
 
 the sack, took out of it a long, green baize 
 bag, containing the trombone, and, after 
 concealing the sack in the hedge bottom, 
 started off to Duxbury to sell his idol. 
 
 It was a seven-mile walk, and such an 
 instrument was not easy to dispose of, and 
 had to be carried about from place to place 
 before a purchaser could be found. So terrible 
 was the mental conflict going on within the 
 old man that he forgot to take food, and 
 started the long walk home in a fagged 
 condition. 
 
 It was a weary tramp, accompanied by 
 more than one Lot's-wife-like look behind 
 him. The wind, strong and heavy, was all 
 against him, the brooding grief of the last 
 few weeks had drained his vitality ; he began 
 to feel very fatigued, then giddy ; and finally, 
 just as he drew near the place where he had 
 concealed the sack, he staggered to the road- 
 side in a dead swoon. 
 
 Luckily, however, Lige, the road-mender, 
 was returning home from his work behind 
 Jethro, and seeing him fall he hurried up, and 
 in a short time the knocker-up was safe in 
 his own bed. The doctor said it was a slight 
 stroke, and Jethro must have been worrying 
 about something, but as he had an excellent 
 constitution no serious consequences need be 
 apprehended. 
 
 Jethro's walk to Duxbury took place on
 
 154 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 a Friday, and on the following day young 
 Jethro sat brooding over late events behind his 
 little bar, and it was evident he was very ill 
 at ease. 
 
 On the Sunday he went twice to chapel, 
 and after the evening service Jabe gave him 
 that significant jerk of the head Clog Shop- 
 wards which was the recognised form of invita- 
 tion to its councils. 
 
 The ordinary members of the Club treated 
 him with marked coldness, but he sat the 
 session out, and when the others rose to go, 
 Jabe beckoned him back into his seat, and he 
 sat down, knowing full well what was coming. 
 
 Long Ben also remained, and when they had 
 gazed into the fire and puffed rather vigorously 
 at their pipes for a little time, Jabe suddenly 
 turned to the young landlord and said — 
 
 " Well, wot dust think to thysel' ? " 
 
 " Wot abaat ? " 
 
 " Wot abaat ! Abaat aw t' trouble tha's geen 
 yond' owd chap o' yours." 
 
 " Haa did Aw knaw he'd tak' it so ill ? " 
 
 " Neaw " (very sarcastically) ; " tha thowt 'as 
 th' best owd saint i' Beckside 'ud feel a-whoam 
 (at home) among pigeon-fliers an' cards an' ale- 
 pot bottoms, didn't tha ? " 
 
 The culprit was getting red, and so Long Ben 
 put his hand gently on his shoulder, and said — 
 
 " Wot 'ud thy mother think if hoo saw 
 thi, lad?"
 
 THE KNOCKER-UP 155 
 
 Jethro winced, and Ben proceeded — 
 
 " We ne'er thowt as that Bible we gav' thi at 
 th' schoo' 'ud find its road into a alehaase." 
 
 There was silence; the young man was 
 deeply moved, and began to bite his lips, 
 whilst a heavy sigh broke from him. In a 
 moment or two Jabe said, very gently for 
 him — 
 
 " Kneel thi daan, lad." 
 
 And down the three went, and there they 
 prayed and prayed until the small hours of the 
 morning, when young Jethro " found liberty," 
 and went home with a new joy in his heart and 
 a new power in his life. Next week he gave 
 up the inn. 
 
 Some ten days after this the old knocker-up 
 sat on a " long settle " which had been pulled 
 up near the fire, though it was late in May. 
 
 Aunt Judy, who had installed herself head- 
 nurse, had just been telling him about his son's 
 conversion, for it had not been deemed prudent 
 to inform him sooner. The old man's face 
 was a picture. Delight, gratitude, and wonder 
 seemed blended in it. 
 
 Then Judy excused herself for a moment 
 and went out. She was soon back, however, 
 carrying a mysterious bundle of clothes. This 
 she " flopped " suddenly on Jethro's knee, and, 
 pulling back the outer shawl, disclosed a fine 
 three-days'-old baby. 
 
 " Theer ! " she cried, " isn't that a whopper ?
 
 156 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 It's th' pictur of its grondad ! An' it's no' been 
 born in a alehaase, nother." 
 
 What the knocker-up thought as he sat and 
 looked at the wee one will never be known, but 
 as he held his knees together lest the treasure 
 they supported should be disturbed, Judy was 
 startled to hear him burst out in his high 
 piping voice and to a popular local tune — 
 
 "God moves in a mysterious way," etc. 
 
 After this the old man " came on " quite 
 rapidly, and as the " Sarmons " were still three 
 weeks off, he began to talk quite eagerly of 
 being present at them " efther aw." 
 
 One evening some of his Clog Shop cronies 
 paid him a visit. Jethro thought he noticed 
 three of them as the door opened, but when he 
 had made room for them on the long settle he 
 perceived that there were only two — Jabe and 
 Long Ben. 
 
 Jethro at once began to inquire eagerly 
 about the practices, and his face became quite 
 clouded as Jabe mentioned with most per- 
 sistent frequency that they were " ill off for th' 
 trombone." 
 
 The more the visitors talked the more un- 
 comfortable Jethro got, and every now and 
 again he glanced uneasily up at the empty 
 hooks whereon his instrument used to hang. 
 Then Jabe, glancing round the house as if 
 making a most unimportant remark, said — -
 
 THE KNOCKER-UP 157 
 
 " We're thinkin of axin' Traycle Tim ta tak' 
 th' trombone parts." 
 
 Now this was positively cruel, for Traycle 
 Tim of the Clough End brass band was Jethro's 
 great rival, and after gasping in a helpless sort 
 ot way, and glancing once more at the empty 
 hooks above him, he said with a sigh — 
 
 " Ay, well ! But Aw dunno want a trombone 
 on the top o' me to keep me daan when Gabriel 
 comes to knock us aw up." 
 
 " Gabriel ? " cried Jabe ; " why, he's a trumpet 
 hissel' ! Ay, an' he'll blow it too o' th' resurrec- 
 tion mornin' 1 " 
 
 This was a new idea to Jethro, and it 
 evidently told ; but, shaking his head, he 
 replied, though not quite so decidedly as 
 before — 
 
 " Ay ! But a trombone isn't a trumpet, tha 
 knaws." 
 
 " Yi, but it is. Th' new schoo'-missis says 
 'at trombone's ony a soart of a frenchified name 
 for a big trumpet." 
 
 The new schoolmistress was a great favourite 
 of Jethro's, and so, as Jabe expected, the second 
 shot told even more heavily than the first. 
 
 Presently he said, " Th' trombone's a varry 
 worldly instrument, tha knaws, Jabe." 
 
 " Nowt o' th' soart ! They blowed trumpets 
 at aw' th' anniversaries i' th' wilderness, an* 
 i' th' Temple, an' th' owd prophet says 'at 
 when th' millenium comes they'll blow the
 
 158 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 great trumpet, an' that means th' trombone — 
 naa, doesn't it, Ben ? " 
 
 " Sartinly ! " said Ben, with tremendous 
 emphasis. 
 
 Jethro sat a long time in silence; at last 
 he said — 
 
 " Aw've happen made a mistak' efther aw." 
 
 " Of course tha hez," chimed in both his 
 visitors. 
 
 " But yo see Aw'm feared o' lovin' th' trom- 
 bone moar nor Aw love God, and God conna 
 abide that." 
 
 " Ger aat, Jethro," interrupted Jabe ; " Aw'm 
 shawmed for thi. Did thaa iver tak' owt fra 
 your Jethro for fear he'd like it better nor 
 he liked thee?" 
 
 " Neaw," very slowly and ponderingly. 
 
 " Well then, dust think as God's woss nor 
 us?" 
 
 " Aw never seed it like that afore," said 
 Jethro, and glanced up again at the hooks, and 
 then he went on — 
 
 " Aw wish Aw hed mi owd trumpet here ! " 
 
 At that moment a most mysterious noise 
 came from behind the long settle. It was 
 intended to have been a royal blast, but Sam 
 Speck's unaccustomed effort only evoked a 
 gurgling, struggling sound. 
 
 It was enough, however. Old Jethro seized 
 the instrument, and after holding it out to make 
 sure it was really his own, he put it to his lips
 
 THE KNOCKER-UP 159 
 
 and sent forth a blast that brought the hands 
 of his comrades to their ears. 
 
 It was really the old trombone. Nearly two 
 days had Sam spent seeking it in Duxbury ; 
 and on the anniversary day, Jethro, with visions 
 of tabernacle and temple in his mind, and the 
 figure of the great Archangel in the background, 
 blew away every lingering doubt and fear, and 
 blew himself into contentment and hope and 
 health again.
 
 For Better, for Worse 
 
 I 
 
 The Dilemma 
 
 It
 
 For Better, for Worse 
 
 I 
 
 The Dilemma 
 
 JOHNTY Harrop the " Minder " had got into 
 difficulties, and although thereby he had 
 demonstrated the sagacity and justified the 
 prophecy of popular opinion in Beckside, this 
 was not regarded as any palliation of his 
 mistake. In fact, from the senators of the 
 Clog Shop down to the frequenters of the 
 Bridge Inn, the verdict had been " sarve him 
 reet." 
 
 After the usual number of juvenile flirtations 
 with the girls of the village he had eventually 
 turned his back on them all and married a 
 Clough Ender. 
 
 Now, as Clough End was a very modern mill 
 village of no account whatever, but pretentious 
 and aggressive in inverse ratio to its import- 
 ance, its sedate and elderly neighbour. Beck- 
 side, had been compelled to treat it much as 
 
 163
 
 i64 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 ancient Jerusalem treated Samaria, and no 
 Clough Ender was of any account in the older 
 village. 
 
 But Johnty's offence was aggravated by the 
 fact that he was regarded as a very " likely " 
 lad, and somewhat of a plum in the marriage 
 market. So that feminine Beckside was scan- 
 dalised at his lack of taste and decency in 
 passing by his own people. 
 
 Moreover, the " elect " lady was a renegade 
 Becksider. She belonged to a poor but some- 
 what proud and ambitious family which years 
 ago had preferred Clough End to Beckside, 
 which was, of course, an inexpiable offence. 
 
 When she was a girl, Susy Stones and her 
 elder sister had shown a decided aversion to 
 going to the mill, and so the Stoneses, who 
 were all supposed to be cursed with " fawse 
 pride," removed to Clough End, where the 
 daughters became dressmakers. 
 
 Susy, the younger of these two, was un- 
 deniably pretty, a typical white-skinned, dark- 
 eyed Lancashire lass, and whilst the Beckside 
 girls felt that this gave a provoking justification 
 to Johnty, the Clough End young men regarded 
 him as an unscrupulous poacher. 
 
 As a mule-minder Johnty got good wages, 
 and must have saved money, so that nobody 
 was greatly surprised when he indulged a long- 
 cherished purpose by taking the large four- 
 roomed cottage next door to Long Ben's, so
 
 FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE 165 
 
 that he could begin housekeeping in the same 
 house his mother had done, and in the house 
 wherein he himself was born, although accord- 
 ing to current ideas it was much too large for 
 a newly-married couple. 
 
 Johnty filled the house with new and stylish 
 furniture, but when Mrs, Johnty arrived she 
 poured scorn on the chest of mahogany drawers 
 with glass knobs, which her husband had 
 bought with great pride, and insisted on its 
 being exchanged for a new - fangled thing 
 called a sideboard. Every housewife in Beck- 
 side was outraged, for a chest of mahogany 
 drawers, especially with the added and un- 
 common glory of glass knobs, was the last 
 ambition of every wifely heart. 
 
 Before feminine sentiment had got over this 
 shock it was passed round in tragic whispers 
 that Sue Johnty had got a sewing-machine, 
 and though this was the first article of the 
 kind that had been seen in Beckside, and every 
 woman in the place was dying to inspect it, 
 yet only a few of the baser sort ever made 
 the attempt, all the self-respecting ones feeling 
 that they would be morally compromised if by 
 any means they should appear to be counten- 
 ancing such unheard-of extravagance. 
 
 Very soon it became a fixed opinion in the 
 village that Mrs. Johnty was a dressy, extrava- 
 gant, wasteful woman, and for a time this was 
 marrow and fatness to the Minder. It was
 
 i66 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 clearly a case in which envy was at work, and 
 the implied compliment to his own judgment 
 in selecting a partner and, to his wife's accom- 
 plishments greatly delighted him, whilst his 
 wife's brightness and ability gave added zest 
 to his pleasure, and her utter unconsciousness 
 of the sensation she was making gave piquancy 
 to the whole situation. 
 
 The Beckside women kept very much aloof 
 from Johnty's wife, but imitated her in their best 
 bonnets, and made their baby clothes as nearly 
 like hers as possible ; whilst the men shook 
 their heads over her finery, expressed strong 
 commiseration for Johnty, but straightened 
 themselves up whenever she passed them, and 
 followed her with unconcealable admiration in 
 their eyes as long as she was in sight. 
 
 After a while, however, Johnty became un- 
 easy. The strict ideas of domestic economy 
 whcih obtained in the village, and in which 
 he had been brought up, slowly began to 
 assert themselves, and as his house became 
 better furnished, and his two children better 
 clothed, he began to seriously regret that 
 he had commenced his married life by " turn- 
 ing up " practically all his wages to his 
 wife according to well - established Beckside 
 usage. 
 
 Having commenced, however, he found it 
 difficult to stop, especially as his wife was so 
 manifestly proud of the confidence reposed in
 
 FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE 167 
 
 her, and really gave him no opportunity of 
 altering matters. 
 
 Little by little also, though he scarcely ever 
 heard a word drop, the very pronounced 
 opinions of Ihe villagers on the subject began 
 to percolate somehow into Johnty's mind, and 
 very soon he suspected that the neighbours 
 were on the lookout for an opportunity of dis- 
 cussing the matter with him, which, of course, 
 made him more anxious to avoid it. 
 
 About this time the mill began to run short 
 time, and Johnty took the news home to his 
 wife with a heavy heart, and was confirmed in 
 his fears of his wife's unthriftiness by the light 
 way in which she received the news. 
 
 " Ne'er mind, lad," she said, " it's an ill wind 
 'at blows noabry ony good. Tha'll be able 
 ta tak' me an th' childer a walk a bit i' th' 
 afternoons." 
 
 The next Friday she brought him a fancy 
 pipe and a quarter of scented tobacco from 
 Duxbury, and poor Johnty, though his heart 
 was sad, was so entirely under the influence 
 of this little wife of his that at her bidding 
 he smoked the new pipe and tobacco the 
 same night, feeling all the time as if it would 
 choke him. 
 
 Mule-minding is piecework, and so, as she 
 never thought of asking, Susy did not know 
 exactly what her husband earned, and the 
 Minder was strongly tempted to keep back
 
 i68 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 more of his wages than he had previously 
 done, and save it up for the dark day he felt 
 sure was coming. 
 
 But instead of doing so, he went to the 
 other extreme, and gave her almost every 
 farthing he earned, to prevent her running into 
 debt. This meant pinching himself in twenty 
 little ways and running up small scores at the 
 Clog Shop, and other places, as was usual when 
 work was not plentiful. 
 
 When he came in from his work one day 
 about this time his wife held up her wee 
 mouth and displayed two new false teeth. 
 Poor Johnty ! It was so like this wife of his, 
 and they really did so effectually remove the 
 only weak spot on her beautiful face, that he 
 hadn't the heart to say anything unkind about 
 them, but knowing what a buzz of tattle they 
 would cause in the village — false teeth being 
 rare in Beckside at that time — he made a 
 hasty tea and got out into the lanes to brood 
 over his anxieties. 
 
 The Minder realised that the time for action 
 had arrived, but how to act with the least 
 possible disturbance was a problem that sorely 
 perplexed him. As he walked he thought, 
 and thought rapidly for him, so that all un- 
 consciously in crossing the Padfoot fields he 
 overtook two women, Lottie Speck and an old 
 flame of his, Martha Royle. 
 
 Martha was evidently excited about some-
 
 FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE 169 
 
 thing, and craning out her long lean neck, she 
 was saying to Lottie — 
 
 " An' theyn gowd plate on 'em, an' they tell 
 me hoo's i' debt aw o'er Duxbury." 
 
 Then she caught sight of Johnty, blushed 
 " as red as a peony," and began to talk 
 loudly and excitedly about some totally dif- 
 ferent subject, in pretended obliviousness of his 
 proximity. 
 
 The Minder passed them with a mono- 
 syllabic salutation, and turning at the first 
 stile, took a short cut for the village. 
 
 The prospect of debt and of impending 
 exposure was now added to his anxieties, for 
 there was no room for doubt as to Martha 
 Royle's meaning, and he shuddered to think of 
 his wife and her two false teeth in the hands 
 of this scandal-loving gossip. 
 
 Johnty made straight for home, and some- 
 what roughly demanded his supper. His plate 
 of porridge was placed before him, and by its 
 side, on a little white plate, was set a fragrant 
 roasted apple, and his wife playfully plucked at 
 his beard and called him " owd Grumpy " in a 
 merry and altogether irresistible way. 
 
 But Johnty was in no mood for sport, and 
 after eating his porridge he left the apple as a 
 silent protest against extravagance, and went 
 out again, for if the truth must be told he 
 was afraid to stay alone with his wife just 
 then.
 
 170 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 Somehow, when Beckside men were in 
 trouble, they seemed to gravitate by a sort of 
 natural law towards the Clog Shop, and so the 
 Minder, after walking aimlessly up and down 
 the road past the chapel two or three times, 
 turned in at Jabe's. 
 
 " Well ! hast made owt on 'em ? " he asked 
 as he entered ; but Jabe was not at his bench, 
 as he expected, and turning towards the fire- 
 place, he saw the Clogger sitting before the 
 fire, and the clogs of some invisible wearer 
 projecting out of the nook. 
 
 " Wor art talkin' abaat ? " asked Jabe in 
 answer to Johnty's question. 
 
 " Them owd clugs o' mine. Hast bin able 
 for t' mak' owt on 'em ? " 
 
 " Well, if Aw han, Aw'm abaat t' on'y mon i' 
 Lancashire as could ; an' if tha brings 'em here 
 agean Aw'll chuck 'em on th' feire," and Jabe's 
 short leg was riding up and down across the 
 other at a frantic rate, whilst his lips pursed out 
 and his eyebrows bristled quite threateningly. 
 
 " Aw'll pay thi for 'em o' Seterday," replied 
 Johnty very humbly. 
 
 " Ay, if tha doesn't forget ; but come here 
 wi' thi ; Aw want tJiee" and the Clogger moved 
 to another seat to make room for the Minder. 
 
 " Wots cum o'er thi ? " he demanded, as 
 Johnty sank into a seat. " Tha used goa in 
 for th' fanciest clugs i' Beckside afoor tha wor 
 wed. Wot's up wi' thi ? "
 
 FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE 171 
 
 Johnty had recently fallen into the habit of 
 feigning avariciousness and worldly cuteness as 
 a cover for his wife's extravagance, and so he 
 answered with an attempt at a cunning wink — 
 
 " A chap as hez his way ta mak' hez ta be 
 curfull naa-a-days. Neaw, Aw've gan o'er 
 smookin' ; it's wasteful," he added, as Jabe 
 passed him a corpulent brown effigy of Punch, 
 which served the cloggery as a tobacco jar. 
 The Clogger cast upon Johnty a slow, compre- 
 hensive, but quietly contemptuous look as he 
 said — 
 
 " Oh, tha's started o' scrattin hez ta ? Then 
 that'll be whey tha hezna paid thy pew-rent 
 this last two quarters." 
 
 Johnty felt there was something ominous in 
 the dogger's tones, but he prepared to brave 
 it out, and replied — 
 
 " Oh, well, Aw'll fotch it up when we goa on 
 full time agean ; but if a chap's ta mak' owt 
 aat he hez ta tak' cur of his brass, tha knows." 
 
 " Aw ye'r, tha tak's cowd tay to th' factory ; 
 Aw reacon that'll be to save tay-wayter money," 
 continued Jabe. But though the tone was 
 natural, it increased Johnty's misgivings. 
 
 " Ay ! " he answered very slowly. " Aw — 
 Aw liken cowd tay best, tha knows. Whot 
 mak's me sweeat soa ? " 
 
 Jabe gave a most mysterious grunt, and 
 then after a few long, deliberate pulls at his 
 pipe he looked steadily into the fire, and
 
 172 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 shaking his grey-fringed head, said with great 
 impressiveness — 
 
 " It's an awful thing when a Christian mon 
 starts o' lyin', Jonathan." 
 
 The Minder winced, flushed angrily, and 
 then demanded — 
 
 " Lyin' ! whoa's lyin' ? " 
 
 The clogs protruding from the chimney 
 corner crossed themselves, as an indication of 
 quickened interest ; but Jabe sat still, ignoring 
 Johnty's question. 
 
 At length, turning and looking the Minder 
 straight in the face, he said — 
 
 " Tha knaws as weel as Aw knaw at aw 
 thy brass goas ta bey foine feathers for yon 
 foine brid o' thine." 
 
 " Whoa says soa ? " cried Johnty, and there 
 was anger and fear and pathetic expostulation 
 in his voice as he went on — 
 
 " Yo' aw talken like that, and yo' knaw nowt 
 abaat it. Ther' isn't a cleaner, willinger, quieter 
 wench i' th' clough, and Aw've ne'er ye'rd her 
 say a word agean th' warst on yo'. Yo' owt ta 
 be shawmed o' yo'rsels." 
 
 There was a low whistle of surprise from far 
 into the chimney, presumably from the wearer of 
 the obtruding clogs. Then Jabe, waving Johnty 
 back into his seat, said, very mildly for him — 
 
 " Aw'm sorry for thi, lad, reet enuff ; but 
 whey doesn't tha awter it ? " 
 
 " Haa con Aw?" cried poor Johnty, and
 
 FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE 173 
 
 instantly could have bitten his tongue out as 
 he discovered he had given himself away. 
 
 " Tha can be th' mestur i' thi own haase 
 sure/z'," came from out of the chimney, and 
 Sam Speck's face became visible through the 
 smoke as he eagerly leaned forward. 
 
 " Ay ! as thaa used to be," said Jabe without 
 looking at him, and at this reminder of his 
 bygone domestic slavery Sam became invisible 
 again except so far as his legs were concerned. 
 
 Then Jabe began with slow carefulness to 
 recharge his pipe, saying as he did so — 
 
 " Hoo's a likely wench as fur as Aw knaw. 
 But women's like horses, — the better they are, 
 the mooar they wanten th' bit. Tha's nowt ta 
 do but put thi foot daan an' be a mon." 
 
 There was such unusual gentleness in Jabe's 
 voice that Johnty, encouraged to be confidential, 
 leaned forward and said with a tremor in his 
 voice — 
 
 " Jabe, hoo's as good as hoo's pratty. Ther' 
 isn't a better wife i' th' countryside," 
 
 " Then, aw Aw've getten ta say is as th'art 
 goin' t' reet rooad ta spile her. Aw tell thi, 
 women conna stond it." 
 
 Then Sam, recovering from his rebuff, joined 
 in the conversation, and soon Johnty was listen- 
 ing to story after story of the humiliating 
 sufferings which men had brought on themselves 
 by giving way to their wives, Sam's personal 
 reminiscences being of a specially harrowing
 
 174 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 description. All this worked on poor Johnty's 
 well-prepared mind, and he saw more clearly 
 than ever where he had missed his way. 
 
 This thought dwelt the longer in his mind 
 because it transferred the blame of the past to 
 his own shoulders, and helped him to believe 
 that in adopting the advice of his friends he 
 would be really consulting his wife's best 
 interests. 
 
 As he went home his spirits rose. It would 
 only be one short, sharp struggle. And 
 then it was for Susy's own good, and would 
 prevent worse happening in the future. He 
 was a man, and it was cowardly to shirk his 
 responsibilities. 
 
 All this, together with the ingrained hatred 
 of extravagance in which he had been trained, 
 and his keen sense of wounded pride at the 
 discovery that he and his wife were the village 
 talk, decided him to " tak' th' bull bi' th' horns," 
 as he phrased it, and end the matter that very 
 night. There would be a storm, he expected, 
 — the first of their married life. Susy was 
 more than his match in argument, and he 
 felt that the only thing to do was to turn 
 bully for an hour as the easiest way of settling 
 his difficulty. 
 
 Long Ben was standing at his garden gate 
 smoking in the twilight as he passed, and it 
 came into Johnty's head to consult his neigh- 
 bour on the matter in hand, but remembering
 
 FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE 175 
 
 Ben's mildness of temper, he feared that a 
 counsel of gentleness would be given, which 
 would frustrate all. 
 
 So he passed quickly on, and nerving himself 
 to his great task, he opened the door with a 
 noisy rattle, to keep himself up to sticking 
 point, and stepped firmly across^the threshold. 
 
 The house was in darkness except for the 
 red glow of the fire-light, and looking round 
 for his wife, he found her lying on a short sofa 
 which she had drawn near the fire. She was 
 fast asleep. 
 
 Now, in picturing to himself what he would 
 do and say when he got home, Johnty had 
 never imagined the possibility of his wife's 
 being asleep, and when he found her in this 
 condition he was quite nonplussed. 
 
 He paused a moment or two, reached up to 
 the high mantelpiece and got hold of a candle, 
 then hesitated and put it down again, and turn- 
 ing his back to the fire, stood looking at his 
 little wife. She was in deep slumber, and 
 looked somewhat tired. Her small, well-poised 
 head was thrown back a little. The perfect 
 white of her skin gleamed in the fire-light. 
 The almost classically regular features were 
 softened into repose, and the unhooked top of 
 her dress gave glimpses of a round snowy neck, 
 whilst her black hair drooped a little, and almost 
 covered a tiny white ear. 
 
 She wore a light print dress, a very uncom-
 
 176 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 mon garment for a minder's wife's everyday 
 use in those times, but which Susy had made 
 herself and put on for her husband's pleasure, 
 never dreaming how it might strike him. 
 
 But Johnty never saw the dress. He was 
 looking down upon the unconscious Susy with 
 a world of warring thoughts passing through 
 his brain. As he looked he held his breath. 
 Then he bent down and nearly touched her. 
 Then he straightened himself again, heaved a 
 great sigh, and finally, whilst his grey eyes 
 gleamed again, he cried under his breath — 
 
 " H-e-y wench, but tha aj't bonny ! " 
 
 And then he bent down again until his breath 
 touched her hair and murmured thickly — 
 
 " Bless thi ; Bless thi." 
 
 The sleeping woman moved a little, and 
 Johnty hastily drew back whilst Susy tossed 
 into sight a plump, round little arm, on which 
 was a ridiculously small hand adorned by a 
 wedding-ring. Somehow the ring attracted 
 the Minder's attention. He stepped forward 
 and knelt down on a mat by the sofa-side — 
 for Susy was above sanded floors. Then he 
 bent over and kissed the ring, murmuring as 
 he did so — 
 
 " Aw'd dew it agean if Aw had ta dew it 
 ta-neet. Ay, Aw'd do it if tha cost me ten 
 times as mitch. Bless thi, bless thi." 
 
 He noticed that he was keeping the light 
 from his wife's face, so he moved to get it on
 
 FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE 177 
 
 again, and then stood over the sleeping form 
 regarding it intently. 
 
 " Hoo's welly loike an angil," he whispered. 
 " Hey, theer's nowt fur wrung at th' back of a 
 face loike that." 
 
 Then he moved round to the other side of 
 the sofa to get a different angle of admiration, 
 and standing here, he cried under his breath — 
 
 " If hoo hadn't a hed some bit of a fawt, 
 hoo'd a bin a gradely angil, an' Aw should 
 ne'er a known her." 
 
 Then he began to pray. Clasping his hands 
 and turning his face towards the ceiling, he 
 said — 
 
 " Lord, Aw tewk her fur better or for wur, 
 an' theer's sa mitch o' th' better abaat her 
 Aw'll ne'er mention th' little bit o' wur ony 
 mooar. Let owd bachelors and henpecked 
 widowers say wot they'n a mind. Aw winna ; 
 Aw winna ! " 
 
 And then he stooped down, and picking up 
 his sleeping wife as if she had been a baby, he 
 carried her, held to his heart, upstairs, and 
 placing her gently on the bed and solemnly 
 kissing the still placid face, he cried — 
 
 " Bless her ; hoo's chep at ony price." 
 
 12
 
 For Better, for Worse 
 II 
 
 The Denouement 
 
 179
 
 For Better, for Worse 
 II 
 
 The Denouement 
 
 When Johnty had left the Clog Shop fortified 
 for the subjugation of his wife by the com- 
 bined counsels of the Clogger and his satellite, 
 Sam Speck sat rubbing his corduroys with his 
 hands, and mentally basking in the beams of 
 self-complacency. 
 
 That his own painful experiences had at last 
 been turned to account for the benefit of a 
 fellow - sufferer was at anyrate some consola- 
 tion for the humiliation he had endured, whilst 
 the role of counsellor, though somewhat new, 
 was very flattering to his vanity. 
 
 Leaning against the chimney - back, and 
 stretching out his somewhat bowed legs as far 
 as they would go, he sucked away at his pipe 
 in pleasing reflection. But with Sam to think 
 was to talk, and so in a few moments he broke 
 the silence by assuming an air of great meek- 
 ness, and observing — 
 
 181
 
 i82 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 " Well, efther aw, it's summut ta be able ta 
 gi' yo'r neighbur a bit o' help." 
 
 " Ay : aat o' th' fryin'-pon into th' feire," was 
 the gruff rejoinder. 
 
 This totally unexpected retort fairly stag- 
 gered Sam. His jaw dropped, a look of sur- 
 prised mystification spread itself over his face, 
 and at length he asked — 
 
 " Wot^^'^r dust meean, Jabe ? " 
 
 Now, ever since Johnty's departure a course 
 of reflection had been passing in the dogger's 
 mind of an exactly opposite character to that 
 which moved in Sam's. He realised that at 
 that very moment a painful scene might be 
 enacting itself in Johnty's house. He felt how 
 serious a thing it was to interfere between man 
 and wife. 
 
 Then he began to remember how vague and 
 unreliable was the evidence they possessed of 
 Susy's weakness, saving only her superior taste 
 in the matter of dress, which might, after all, 
 be accounted for by the fact that she had been 
 a dressmaker. And when he came to think of 
 it, all the Stoneses were clever and smart, and 
 Johnty had admitted that he had never asked 
 his wife how she spent her money. 
 
 By this time things had assumed very 
 serious shapes in his mind, and he had just 
 begun internally to call himself and his fel- 
 low-counsellor very hard names, when Sam's 
 conceited remarks broke on his meditation,
 
 FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE 183 
 
 and surprised out of him the exclamation 
 which so excited Sam's amazement. 
 
 " Aw meean," he repHed, in answer to his 
 companion's last question, " as tha'rt a foo', 
 and Aw'm a bigger, an' we're boath a pair 
 o' meddlesome mischief-makkers. For owt 
 we knaw," he added, " yon little woman's 
 cryin' her een aat bi this time, an'" — 
 
 But here he broke down, dashed his clay 
 pipe petulantly to the floor, and dragging out 
 of his thick leather belt an enormous red 
 handkerchief, he blew his nose with most 
 suspicious violence. 
 
 Descending at one drop from self-com- 
 placent exaltation to a sense of meddlesome 
 meanness, Sam was silent, and very soon 
 sidled sheepishly off home, leaving the Clog- 
 ger to sit far into the night torturing himself 
 with self-accusations and visions of misery for 
 Johnty and his wife. 
 
 All next day Jabe was very uneasy. Johnty 
 sometimes went back to his work after dinner 
 the longest way round for the sake of fresh 
 air, and as this took him past the cloggery, 
 Jabe, on the chance of seeing him, — as the 
 day was unusually fine, — stood for nearly half 
 an hour in his shop doorway, hoping to thus 
 get some inkling of how matters had gone. 
 
 But no Johnty appeared, and Jabe spent a 
 very miserable afternoon. By tea-time, how- 
 ever, he had made up his mind, and just
 
 i84 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 before dark, after dressing himself with most 
 unusual care, — going in fact to the extreme 
 of a shirt-front in the middle of the week, — 
 he made his way down to Johnty's house. 
 
 To his great relief, Susy looked as bright 
 as ever, and welcomed him quite effusively. 
 To his inquiry after her husband, she said 
 that he had gone to Slakey Brow — a mile 
 and a half away — after some celery plants, 
 but would soon be back. 
 
 Jabe somehow felt immensely relieved, and 
 would have excused himself, but Susy would 
 take no denial. She put him in one of her 
 new-fashioned easy chairs, and Jabe admitted 
 to himself that these ivere easier than the 
 Beckside straight-backs. 
 
 Then she got him a pipe, praised her 
 husband's scented weed, and playfully com- 
 pelled him to try it, charging the pipe herself, 
 and even bringing him a lighted " spill." 
 
 When he had got fairly agoing, she rated 
 him teasingly about not having been to see 
 them before, and suddenly remembering some- 
 thing else, brought him a glass of " balm " 
 wine, and insisted on his drinking to their 
 happiness. 
 
 This unconscious coals -of- fire treatment 
 made Jabe feel very bad indeed ; but just 
 then the baby — a sturdy, young ten months' 
 old — awoke, and Susy brought him to Jabe 
 to look at, and so bewitched him that, though
 
 FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE 185 
 
 he had scarcely touched a baby for thirty 
 years, and felt dreadfully afraid of hurting 
 it, he recklessly asked to be allowed to hold 
 it, Susy, as he did so, stepping back and 
 clapping her hands in admiration. She told 
 him how well he looked " nossing a babby," 
 and asked him if he hadn't made a mistake 
 after all in being a bachelor — and the poor 
 Clogger was never nearer confessing that he 
 had in his life. 
 
 And then she began to talk to him artfully 
 about himself, a temptation which no man can 
 resist, and she did it so adroitly and unsus- 
 pectingly that Jabe was unconscious of the 
 flattery of it, and would have felt very well 
 pleased with himself but for the secret remorse 
 that was stabbing him inwardly. 
 
 " Hay ! yo' doan't know yo'r born till yo' 
 get marrit, Jabe," she said. " Aw'm happier 
 in a day naa nor Aw used be in a ye'r afoor 
 we wor wed." 
 
 And this was the woman he had recom- 
 mended should be subjugated ! 
 
 It had come into the dogger's mind that 
 perhaps before Johnty returned he might get 
 an opportunity of speaking a word in season 
 to Susy, and he made this excuse to himself 
 for tarrying, but before long, partly through 
 shame at the way he felt he had misjudged 
 the Minder's wife, and partly from the intoxi- 
 cating influence of Susy's presence and innocent
 
 i86 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 chatter, he had thrown all reflection to the 
 winds, and was enjoying himself to the full, 
 reckless of all consequences. 
 
 Johnty came at last. But strange to say, 
 Jabe seemed to have forgotten what he came 
 about, and departed presently without ex- 
 plaining his business. 
 
 " Naa, Aw expect [hope] yo'll not be lung 
 afoor yo' come ageean, Jabez," Susy said as 
 she opened the garden gate. 
 
 " Neaw, wench, neaw ! " cried the Clogger, 
 and hurried up the " broo " towards home. 
 
 When he had gone a few steps, and the 
 door had closed upon Susy, Jabe stopped in 
 the road and began to talk to himself — 
 
 " Jabe," he said, " tha's made mony a foo' 
 o' thysel' i' thy toime, bud tha's ne'er made 
 a bigger than tha hez this toime, tha prying, 
 suspeecious, owd maddlin, thaa ! " 
 
 Then he proceeded, and as he climbed the 
 low " brow " his face began to light up with 
 amused gratification, and an almost simpering 
 expression came upon it, but he pulled up 
 again and said — 
 
 " Whey, tha'rt i' luv wi' th' woman thysel', 
 tha soft ninny, thaa ! " 
 
 When Susy returned to her husband after 
 seeing the Clogger off, she found him in the 
 best of spirits. 
 
 " Aw mak* noa accaant o' frisky young 
 bachelors comin' ta see thee when Aw'm aat
 
 FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE 187 
 
 o' th' rooad. He cut loike a redshank when 
 Aw turnt up." 
 
 " Hay," cried Susy. " Isn't it a pity th' 
 owd chap's ne'er bin marrit? He doesn't 
 know wot he's missed, does he ? " 
 
 And as Johnty replied " Neaw," she con- 
 tinued — 
 
 " Bud Awst ax him daan here to his tay 
 sometimes of a Sunday. He must be looansome. 
 Dust think he's bin crossed i' luv, Johnty ? " 
 
 Johnty didn't know, but he ate his supper, 
 and then, to stifle returning scruples, smoked 
 out of his best new pipe and sat silently 
 speculating on Jabe's visit. 
 
 It was clear the Clogger had said nothing 
 to Susy, but he wondered why he had come 
 at all ; and seeing he had come, what had 
 prevented him speaking either to his wife or 
 himself, or both ? 
 
 But when Susy entered into a detailed 
 description of the visit, giving all those minute 
 particulars which only a woman can remember, 
 Johnty's face beamed with amusement, and he 
 went off to bed in a very comfortable frame of 
 mind. 
 
 Next day was Saturday, and the Minder 
 came home between one and two o'clock. 
 
 Just as he turned out of Sally's entry, a short 
 cut from the mill, he came upon a bill-poster 
 who was pasting an auction sale bill on the 
 nailed-up door of Long Ben's workshop.
 
 i88 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 Johnty paused a moment, and ran his eye 
 carelessly over the bill, but presently came 
 upon a paragraph, which brought all the gall 
 back into his mind. It ran thus — 
 
 "Lot v.— All that MESSUAGE dwelling-house situate on 
 the roadside adjoining the premises of Benjamin Barber, 
 carpenter, in the hamlet of Beckside, and now in the 
 occupation ef Jonathan Harrop." 
 
 Several others were gathering round the bill, 
 but Johnty had seen enough, and turned sullenly 
 home. He could not trust himself with his 
 wife just then, so he made for the back garden, 
 ostensibly to examine the condition of the 
 celery plants he intended to set that day, but 
 really to cool down and get command of him- 
 self. 
 
 Johnty's house had been built by his grand- 
 father, and had descended to his mother. 
 Johnty himself had been born in it, and re- 
 membered with painful vividness the day when 
 the mortgagee foreclosed and took possession, 
 and widow and children had to " flit " to a 
 smaller house. 
 
 It had been a joyful surprise to him when 
 he found he could take the house on his own 
 marriage, and he had cherished the hope that 
 he might one day be able to purchase it. And 
 now, instead of being owner, he knew he could 
 not remain much longer even as tenant, for it 
 was well known that Job Sharpies, the pig- 
 dealer, wanted to buy the cottage, and in fact
 
 FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE 189 
 
 all the property about it ; and when Job was in 
 the market there was no chance for anybody else. 
 
 " Johnty, come lad. Thy dinner's waitin'," 
 cried Susy from the kitchen door. 
 
 But the Minder was angry and surly, and 
 never deigned an answer 
 
 Presently, however, he went indoors. 
 
 " Childer as corn't dew as they's towd gets 
 their ears seaused" (boxed), said Susy playfully, 
 suiting the action to the word. 
 
 But Johnty began eating his food in sullen 
 silence. When dinner was over he walked to 
 the front door, and stood moodily leaning 
 against the doorpost, and smoking, ruminating 
 bitterly the while on his troubles. 
 
 " Johnty," cried Susy, after a while, "art'na 
 gooin' ta set them sallery plants ? " 
 
 " Neaw, Aw'm not," snapped the Minder. 
 
 " Haa's that ? " 
 
 And Johnty turned round and nearly roared 
 out — 
 
 " 'Cause we're getten ta flit." 
 
 " Flit ? Wot for ? " 
 
 " 'Cause th' property's gooin' t' be sowd next 
 Frid-day," and a feeling of utter despair came 
 over Johnty as he observed that his frivolous 
 little wife was not stunned by the news. 
 
 Susy was perfectly aware how dear the house 
 was to him, and how he had hoped some day 
 to possess it, and yet in a few moments he heard 
 her actually singing in the kitchen.
 
 I90 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 The next few days were spent by Johnty in 
 moody gloom, all attempts on Susy's part to 
 cheer him being sullenly rejected, and on 
 Thursday, the day before the sale, the Minder 
 came home in a worse frame of mind than 
 ever, ready, in fact, to pick a quarrel on the 
 smallest possible provocation. 
 
 But somehow Susy was prepared for him, 
 and had sent the baby out so as not to annoy 
 him. She had also adorned the tea-table 
 with cress, and a nice bit of pig-seause 
 (brawn). 
 
 " Johnty, con tha get off thy wark to-morn, 
 dust think ? " she asked, as she put a second 
 piece of brawn on his plate. 
 
 " Neaw ! " Johnty almost shouted, and then 
 glared angrily at his wife, expecting her to say 
 something that would give him cause for going 
 further. 
 
 " Well, dunna shaat loike that. Aw want 
 thi to goa a bit of an errand for me." 
 
 " An' hev' Aw nowt else t' do but goa 
 errands for thi? It takes me aw my time ta 
 keep thi as it is." 
 
 There ! the rubicon was crossed, for the tone 
 of Johnty's retort was even harsher than his 
 words, and though he would have given worlds 
 to have the word back, he kept up his hard 
 look, and glanced furtively across the table to 
 see what effect he had produced. 
 
 Every drop of blood seemed to have left
 
 FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE 191 
 
 Susy's face, an injured and haughty look rose 
 into her eyes, and rising to her feet, she 
 bestowed one cold, hard glance on Johnty and 
 fled upstairs. 
 
 To say that Johnty was miserable would be 
 a very mild way of putting the case. He left 
 his unfinished tea and went out, and after 
 wandering aimlessly about for some time, 
 turned in to the Bridge Inn. But he could 
 not stay, and by nine o'clock he was back 
 home again, and found his wife sitting sewing 
 by the candle-light. 
 
 " Wheer dust want mi ta goa ? " he asked, 
 in a tone between apology and protestation. 
 
 " Noawheer ; Aw con goa mysel'," and a 
 second time Susy retreated to the bedroom. 
 
 When he came home to dinner next day he 
 found, as he expected, that his wife had gone 
 by the coach to Duxbury, and he felt painful 
 misgivings as to his conduct, and was troubled 
 with most unusual apprehension as to Susy's 
 safety. 
 
 It was an almost interminable afternoon, and 
 when six o'clock did come Johnty was almost 
 the first man to leave the mill, although he 
 worked in the top storey. 
 
 He heaved a great sigh of relief as he caught 
 sight of his wife stooping over the cradle, and 
 went up to kiss her, but she eluded him with an 
 averted face, and went about her work. 
 
 The Minder ate his tea in silence, his mind
 
 192 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 filled with conflicting emotions, whilst Susy- 
 hovered about the table and her husband quite 
 strangely, but never gave him the chance to 
 take hold of her, and carefully avoided meeting 
 his eye. 
 
 There was a very tall jug standing on the 
 table, a show-jug which Susy greatly prized, 
 and which Johnty had never known her use 
 before. 
 
 " Wot's i' this jug ? " he asked, to break the 
 uncomfortable silence. 
 
 " Look and see," was the short answer, and 
 Susy became instantly very busy amongst the 
 baby-clothes. There was a small plate on the 
 top of the jug, and Johnty lifted it down upon 
 the table, and took the vessel up to explore its 
 recesses. It contained a bundle of documents. 
 
 " Whativer's thoos ? " cried Johnty, and took 
 them out and began unfolding them. 
 
 A moment's scrutiny showed him that they 
 were the title-deeds of his house, with a hasty 
 memorandum and a receipt for the price. 
 
 The sight nearly took his breath away and 
 also his speech. But presently he found courage 
 to ask — 
 
 " Wot's aw this meean. Sue? " 
 
 " It meeans as tha'rt thy own landlord, if tha 
 wants to know," and there was a distinctly no- 
 compromise tone in Susy's voice. 
 
 " Me a landlord ! Haa con that be ? Whoa's 
 bowt [bought] it ? " 

 
 FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE 193 
 
 " Aw have." 
 
 " Thee ! Wheer'st getten th' brass ? " 
 
 " No' fro' thee. It tak's thee aw thy toime 
 ta keep me, tha knows ! " 
 
 Johnty winced, and continued — 
 
 « Wheer'st borrad it ? " 
 
 " Aw've ne'er bin used ta borraing, Jonathan. 
 Aw've saved it." 
 
 " Thee saved it ? " 
 
 And then the scales seemed to fall from the 
 Minder's eyes, a great many things became 
 clear all at once, and after a pause and a great 
 relief-ful sigh, he rushed at his wife, and she ran 
 upstairs again, and he after her. 
 
 He caught her before she got to the top, for 
 she was not very good at climbing stairs just 
 then, and took her in his arms and brought her 
 down, stopping on every other step to kiss her 
 burning and teary face. 
 
 Then he took her on his knee, and held her 
 very close, and compelled her to tell him all 
 about it. 
 
 There was nothing to tell, she said. She 
 knew how much he would like to own the 
 house they lived in, for old associations' sake. 
 She had a little bit of money when they were 
 married, but thought, if he ever needed it, it 
 would be so pleasant to give him a nice sur- 
 prise ; so, as he never asked, she had never told 
 him about it. 
 
 Since their marriage she had put something 
 
 13
 
 194 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 by every week, and perhaps the fact that she 
 was able to make her own and the children's 
 clothes had helped her, as well as enabled her 
 to make a pretty fair appearance. She had also 
 made a few neighbours' dresses, but daren't tell 
 him, because " he wor sa soft abaat " her. 
 
 She had learnt about the sale of the cottage 
 quite by accident, and had already opened 
 negotiations for a private purchase when the 
 auction bills came out, and his alarm about 
 having to flit had rather hurried her. 
 
 Oh what a happy man was Johnty Harrop 
 then! 
 
 He made a full confession of all his sus- 
 picions, omitting only the Clog Shop incident. 
 But he might as well have told that also, for 
 when Jabe and Sam came to tea on Sunday 
 by special invitation and heard the whole story, 
 they confessed too, and Susy forgave them also 
 with quite a queenly grace, and insisted when 
 they had gone that their next baby should be 
 called Jabez — as it very likely would have 
 been, only it turned out to be a girl, and was 
 christened Susan.
 
 "Bullet" Pie 
 
 195
 
 ^'Bullet" Pie 
 
 A LADY evangelist was conducting special 
 services at Clough End, and Lige and Sam 
 Speck had been to hear her, or, perhaps more 
 correctly, to enjoy the unhallowed delight of 
 seeing a woman in a pulpit. The " heckling " 
 they received at the hands of the Clogger 
 produced very complete repentance apparently ; 
 but, alas ! the mischief was done, and the very 
 next Sunday the fearful fruits of it were seen, 
 for a woman actually got up in the Beckside 
 after - service prayer - meeting and made a 
 speech. 
 
 A speech, mark you ; not a prayer or an 
 experience — these were not altogether contra- 
 band — but a speech, and a somewhat startling 
 speech, too. Jabe had declared again and 
 again whenever the disturbing question of 
 female evangelists came up — 
 
 " There's ne'er bin a woman i' aar poopit sin' 
 th' place wor built. Neaw, an' ther' never will 
 be woll [while] Aw'm alive." 
 
 And now Beckside was suddenly brought 
 down to the ignominious level of Clough End. 
 
 197
 
 igS CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 The offending female was the new school- 
 mistress, and whilst some were of opinion that 
 her official position gave her a sort of licence, 
 Jabe and others held that such a person ought 
 to have known better, and that her status 
 aggravated the offence. 
 
 It was just at that time in late autumn when 
 the temperature of the Sunday night prayer- 
 meeting usually began to rise, and the prayers 
 were most thickly punctuated with ejaculations. 
 Suddenly one evening this misguided young 
 woman rose in her place in the singing-pew, 
 and, holding up her hand, cried in school- 
 mistress style, " H-U-S-H ! " 
 
 Then, before anyone could rise from his knees 
 and sit down, she gripped hold of the iron rod 
 supporting the singing-pew curtain, and cried 
 out in tremulous but earnest tones — 
 
 " Friends, why stand we here all the day 
 idle ? Why do we keep on praying God to 
 save sinners when the Brick-croft is full of 
 sinners to whom we never go ? Christ said we 
 were to go into all the world. Why don't we 
 go ? " And then she paused, quiet tears swam 
 in her eyes, and she sat abruptly down. 
 
 Sam Speck, who sat by her side, blushed a 
 great red blush, and hid his head in his 
 hands. 
 
 Long Ben opened his mouth as if to speak, 
 and then in sheer astonishment forgot to close 
 it, and sat gaping in a helpless sort of way.
 
 " BULLET" PIE 199 
 
 whilst his eyes glistened with suppressed excite- 
 ment. 
 
 Others of the Clog Shop community glanced 
 timidly round at each other, and presently Jabe 
 from the back pew thundered out in his sternest 
 tones — 
 
 " It's toime ta goa whoam, Bruther Banks." 
 
 Brother Banks, the preacher conducting the 
 meeting, hurriedly closed it, and Jabe was seen 
 limping homeward alone, with that exaggeration 
 of his ordinary lameness which was a certain 
 indication of internal disturbance. The rest of 
 the counsellors followed in a slinking, guilty 
 manner, as if they had been the transgressors 
 and were coming for judgment. 
 
 Long Ben, however, who was the last to 
 arrive, having shyly lingered behind to shake 
 hands with and encourage the mistress, betrayed 
 himself almost instantly, for, whilst putting on 
 a look of portentous gravity, he allowed the 
 corners of his mouth to twitch, and chuckled as 
 he vainly hoped sotto voce, and was therefore 
 considerably startled when Jabe, without sitting 
 down, wheeled suddenly round and fiercely 
 demanded — • 
 
 " Who'rt lowfin [laughing] at ? " 
 
 But Ben's eyes only twinkled the more, and 
 he filled his pipe with most exasperating 
 deliberateness. 
 
 Somehow Jabe's pipe wouldn't light. The 
 second " spill " burned his fingers ; the third
 
 200 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 lighted the pipe, but there was something wrong 
 with the " draw " ; and finally, in whisking 
 round to give an annihilating answer to a 
 question from Lige, he knocked the pipe 
 against the chimney-corner and broke it. 
 Then he sat down in a pet, and obstinately 
 refused to smoke at all. 
 
 This was most ominous. The lesser lights 
 of the Clog Shop looked at each other with 
 apprehensive glances, but Ben smoked on in 
 aggravating and aggressive imperturbability. 
 
 " Wee'st have a revival naa" he exclaimed 
 at length — coming down rather heavily on the 
 " naa." 
 
 " Ay," cried Jabe, rushing in at the opening 
 for which he had been waiting, and laughing in 
 bitter scorn. " A revival o' neyse (noise) an' 
 Ranterism an' bosh ! Crowin' hens an' 
 preychin' women 'ull mak' a bonny revival 
 sure//." And his speaking leg actually kicked 
 the hob of the fire-grate in its frantic excite- 
 ment. 
 
 And then the others joined in, and soon the 
 debate become fast and furious. For once Jabe 
 was entirely alone. Encouraged by the daring 
 stand made by Long Ben, the others, not even 
 excepting Sam Speck, took up cudgels for the 
 schoolmistress, which, of course, only exasper- 
 ated the Clogger the more. 
 
 " By th' mon," he cried at the close of one of 
 his tirades, " Hoo'll ger i' th' poopit next ? Bud
 
 '♦ BULLET " PIE 20I 
 
 if hoo does ! If hoo does ! " And finding no 
 threat equal to the enormity of such a deed, he 
 shook his fist in the air, and strutted lamely 
 across the sanded floor. 
 
 In spite of all this, the revival did break 
 out at the chapel, intermittently at first, but 
 presently it settled down into regular form, 
 under the direction of a lay evangelist recently 
 engaged by the circuit. 
 
 Somehow the human credit of it was given 
 to the schoolmistress, and as she made no 
 further attempts at public speaking, but worked 
 with exemplary zeal in twenty other ways, even 
 Jabe suspended final judgment upon her, and 
 admitted that she was a " varry dacent wench 
 — i' sum tilings!^ 
 
 The lady in question had had charge of the 
 village school over the bridge and at the foot of 
 the " Knob " for some months now. She was 
 a plain-looking, yellow-haired girl of about 
 twenty-five, whose face only became interesting 
 when she began to speak to you. Then the 
 great grey eyes filled with soft warm light, 
 and the fair skin gleamed with kindliness, and 
 the soft low voice worked upon you like a 
 gentle spell. Nothing was known of her 
 origin, except that she came from somewhere 
 Gloucester way, and belonged to the Church. 
 
 But there was no church in Beckside. The 
 parish church of Brogden was nearly two miles 
 away, and the chapel-of-ease at Clough End
 
 202 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 was about the same distance. Most of her 
 pupils went to the chapel, and as she was a 
 sociable little body, and much interested in her 
 scholars, she went too, and though startled and 
 somewhat amused by what she saw, she soon 
 discovered the deep spirituality underneath 
 these surface incongruities, and became a most 
 diligent attendant. 
 
 In a short time she grew quite interested in 
 everything, read the History of Methodism 
 out of the Sunday School Library, and asked 
 Sam Speck (whose favour she won very early 
 by calling him " Mister ") some very perplexing 
 questions as to the wherefore of the various 
 usages in vogue at the chapel. She was 
 charmed with the class-meeting, and, being 
 rather afraid of Jabe, became a member of 
 Long Ben's class, and immediately captured 
 that worthy's affection by the charming naivete 
 of her " experience." 
 
 Before long she caught the fever of 
 Methodist aggressiveness, and became quite 
 concerned for the religious condition of some 
 of her neighbours, which explains the impulsive 
 little plunge she made into exhortation at the 
 prayer-meeting already described. 
 
 The Brick-croft, of which the mistress had 
 spoken in her memorable speech, was a cluster 
 of poor cottages, mostly single - storeyed, 
 which stood on a flat piece of land along 
 the side of the " Beck " and just behind the
 
 " BULLET" PIE 203 
 
 Bridge Inn. The unregenerate part of Beck- 
 side resided here. Almost every house, how- 
 ever small, had a pigeon-cote attached to it, 
 and upon a good few of the low roofs were 
 mechanical arrangements for the entrapping 
 of " strags " (stray pigeons). 
 
 You never met a Brick-crofter but he had 
 a pigeon in his pocket and a bull-terrier at 
 his heels. Even the women were easily 
 recognised in Duxbury by the fact that 
 they invariably carried a sort of twin-lidded 
 basket, commonly used for conveying pigeons. 
 
 The Brick-croft was the Beckside " far 
 country." Whatever of broiling, drunkenness, 
 or gambling disgraced the village was sure 
 to spring from this unsavoury corner of it. 
 The policeman lived on its outskirts. 
 
 The schoolmistress having to pass the 
 outer border of the Croft eveiy morning on 
 her way to her duties, and having also to 
 visit it frequently in search of her most 
 truant scholars, grew quite alarmed for the 
 state of the people and the surroundings 
 amid which " her children " were brought up, 
 and it was whilst listening to the seemingly 
 earnest prayers of the chapel people, and 
 brooding over the condition of the pigeon- 
 flyers, that she was moved into making the 
 speech which gave such umbrage to the 
 Clogger. 
 
 During the week following. Miss Redford
 
 204 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 held conversations with all the chapel people 
 she could get hold of about the moral needs 
 of the Brick-crofters, and was specially urgent 
 upon Nathan the smith and Sam Speck, 
 and these — immensely flattered by the lady's 
 preference — at once began to stir up the 
 rest. 
 
 The following Sunday an open-air service 
 was held in the Croft, and whilst the men 
 sang and exhorted, the schoolmistress went 
 to the women, who stood in their doorways 
 with aprons folded round dirty arms, and 
 invited them to chapel. 
 
 One or two responded, and as they were 
 old scholars of the Sunday School, they 
 were easily impressed and coaxed up to the 
 penitent-form. This was the beginning of 
 the revival, and very soon special services of 
 an exceedingly enthusiastic character were in 
 full swing. 
 
 But the mistress was not content. Several 
 women and two or three of the least notorious 
 of the Brick-croft men had been drawn to 
 chapel, but the main body of the pigeon- 
 flyers was still untouched. 
 
 At last Miss Redford could rest no longer, 
 and after dismissing the children one after- 
 noon she retired into her little anteroom and 
 dropped upon her knees. When she rose 
 again she had pledged herself to make some 
 determined effort that very night. Hastening
 
 •'BULLET" PIE 205 
 
 home to her lodgings and making a hurried 
 tea, she sallied forth to enlist assistance. 
 
 The smithy was next door but one to her 
 lodgings, and Nathan had always been kind 
 to her, but as soon as she expounded her 
 plan he declared he was " up to th' een i' 
 wark " ; and so she passed on to Sam 
 Speck's. 
 
 Sam, his sister said, was " at th' Clug 
 Shop as yewzuall," and the mistress, who 
 only guessed Jabe's sentiments towards her, 
 but who regarded him with wholesome fear, 
 could not muster courage to seek Sam there. 
 
 She turned back, therefore, and went into 
 Long Ben's shop. The carpenter, when he 
 heard her proposition, felt that his acts were 
 recoiling on his own head, and half- wished 
 that he had not triumphed quite so cruelly 
 over his old friend Jabe. But before the 
 schoolmistress had done Ben had pledged 
 himself to call for her at half-past six and 
 escort her round the Brick-croft, with the 
 clear understanding, however, that she was 
 to do all the talking. 
 
 Whilst the second hymn was being sung 
 at the service that evening, and some of the 
 worshippers were vaguely wondering what had 
 become of the mistress, a commotion was 
 heard in the porch outside, and almost 
 immediately the dingy green door swung 
 open, and in walked Miss Redford with moist
 
 -mr
 
 "BULLp:t" pie 207 
 
 front legs and the most murderous-looking 
 head in the community. He knew more 
 ways of snaring rabbits than a keeper ; but 
 chief of all his distinctions, he was the owner of 
 that immortal pigeon, the " Bullet," which was 
 glory more than enough for any ordinary man. 
 
 Other famous birds would come (fly) from 
 Manchester ; Tommy-o'-th'-Well's " Blue-cock " 
 had come from London ; but the incomparable 
 " Bullet " had visited " forrin parts," and had 
 flown home from Paris. But the highest 
 distinction of this wonderful bird was its 
 speed ; and when, after one of its early 
 victories, " Sluthering Jack," who had won five 
 shillings by the achievement, said to the 
 assembled sportsmen that " th' * Dun-cock ' 
 owt ta be caw'd th' ' Bullet,' " everybody felt 
 that Jack had had an inspiration, and that the 
 bird had been finally and adequately labelled. 
 
 No one ever dreamed of competing with the 
 " Dun-cock " now on equal terms, and all other 
 aspirants to flying fame were valued by the 
 distance they stood from Sniggy's " Bullet." 
 
 Emboldened by the security of his position 
 as king of the Croft, Sniggy had shown the 
 only discourtesy towards the schoolmistress 
 which she received on her memorable invasion 
 of that region, but the look on Long Ben's face 
 as he stood behind Miss Redford, and the 
 shamed way in which his mates dropped their 
 heads at his insolent word, warned him of
 
 2o8 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 danger, and, to tell the whole truth, had 
 awakened in him a shame which of itself 
 prevented him from going to the chapel. 
 
 In the third week of the services, however, 
 he ventured to join the rest, but even then 
 nothing could be made of him ; and when 
 one night the schoolmistress's hopes were 
 raised a little, they were subsequently dashed 
 again by the fact that he did not turn up on 
 the three succeeding evenings, one of which 
 was Sunday. 
 
 Every day during this period Miss Redford 
 called at Sniggy's, venturing alone by this 
 time, but though on one occasion she almost 
 followed Sniggy into the house, his hard-faced 
 old mother assured her that he " worn't in." 
 
 Then she sounded his recently-converted 
 mates, but they seemed afraid of him, and the 
 only information she could glean was that he 
 had pledged himself to fly the " Bullet " from 
 Manchester against a Clough End pigeon for 
 ;^20, giving the less famous bird a two-minutes' 
 start. 
 
 Somehow this man got on the teacher's 
 mind, chiefly, perhaps, because of the extra- 
 ordinary difficulty of capturing him, and she 
 was more than disappointed when for the 
 fourth evening in succession Sniggy failed her. 
 
 Meanwhile the owner of the " Bullet " was 
 himself in great trouble. As an old Sunday 
 School scholar he knew enough to make him
 
 " BULLET" PIE 209 
 
 miserable, now that he had begun to think, 
 and he confided to one of his mates that he 
 felt " wuss nor he did when Billy Tinker stool 
 th' ' Bullet.' " 
 
 On every occasion on which the school- 
 mistress had called, he had been in, but had 
 crouched behind the mangle, or rushed into 
 the pantry, and up the plank ladder into the 
 little dimly-lighted bedroom under the thatch. 
 When the mistress stopped to talk he took his 
 clogs off, stepped lightly over the attic floor 
 until he was directly over the speaker's head, 
 and then, lying on his stomach and applying 
 his ear to a crack, he listened eagerly to every 
 word that was uttered. Once, indeed, when 
 Miss Redford had insisted on praying with 
 hard, ignorant old Molly, he had sobbed until 
 he was afraid of being discovered, as the visitor 
 prayed for " Thy handmaid's son." 
 
 That night Sniggy gave his bull-terrier to 
 the gamekeeper, shrewdly surmising how that 
 functionary would dispose of it, and regarding 
 it himself as a sort of compensation for many 
 past injuries of which he was now painfully 
 conscious. 
 
 Then he spent almost all the next night in 
 the pigeon-cote wrestling with the question of 
 the disposal of his birds, but always sticking 
 fast when it came to the " Bullet," and edging off 
 on the excuse of his approaching engagement 
 with the ambitious Clough Ender. 
 
 14
 
 2IO CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 Just as the prayer-meeting was closing on 
 the fourth night of Sniggy's absence, and Miss 
 Redford was listening to the final prayer with 
 a sinking heart, Silas, the chapel-keeper, touched 
 her on the shoulder and beckoned her out. 
 
 Arrived at the porch, she found Sniggy's 
 mother with a shawl over her head, and a 
 very sour look on her face, waiting for her. 
 
 " He wants yo' ta cum an' ha' sum supper 
 wi' him, if yo' will," she said, in a tone which 
 showed that she was far from approving of the 
 invitation herself. 
 
 Now, during the revival, the poor fellows of 
 the Brick-croft had taken all sorts of odd ways 
 of showing their appreciation of the mistress's 
 interest in them, and so she was not greatly 
 startled at this extraordinary request. 
 
 " Thank you, Mrs. Molly," she said, calling 
 the old woman by the only name she had ever 
 heard of her having, " but won't you ask Mr. 
 Barber to come as well ? " 
 
 " Oh ay ! He wants Ben an' owd Jabe tew, 
 if they'll cum." 
 
 The mistress hastened back into the chapel 
 and acquainted Ben with the invitation, leaving 
 him to negotiate with Jabe, of whom she stood 
 in great fear. In a moment or two both the 
 stewards joined her, and all walked in wonder- 
 ing silence down to the Croft. 
 
 Two small tables of slightly different height, 
 and covered with small white cloths put to-
 
 " BULLET" PIE 211 
 
 gather to do duty as a tablecloth, stood in the 
 middle of the newly-sanded floor, and Sniggy, 
 washed and dressed in the best he had, but 
 looking agitated and miserable, sat at one end 
 waiting for them. 
 
 He bade them " mak' yo'rsels a' whoam " in 
 gruffly solemn tones, and then, after seeing 
 them all seated, he brought a " blazer " out 
 of the pantry to screen the mistress's back 
 from the fire, and, looking uneasily round, he 
 said — 
 
 " Jabe, wilt' say a bit of a blessin' ? " 
 
 The Clogger did so, and then there was an 
 awkward pause, during which Sniggy seemed 
 to be struggling with some almost uncon- 
 trollable emotion. The quick woman's eyes 
 of Miss Redford showed her that there was 
 nothing on the table to eat except a little 
 broken oat-cake at one corner. 
 
 " Naa then, bring it aat," cried Sniggy at 
 that moment. And old Molly went to the 
 oven and produced a rather small pie, which 
 she immediately set before her son. 
 
 Sniggy seized the knife, rose to his feet, and 
 then stood waveringly over the smoking dish, 
 whilst the rest looked on with curious interest. 
 But his knife dropped from his hand after a 
 moment's hesitation, and falling back into his 
 chair, he cried, with a sort of half-wail in his 
 voice — 
 
 *' Aw conna dew it ; Jabe, thee carve."
 
 212 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 " Ar'ta badly, lad?" said Jabe, as he moved 
 to take the pigeon-flyer's place. 
 
 " Neaw ! Neaw ! goa on wi' yo'r supper," 
 was the answer, whilst old Molly disappeared 
 suddenly into the pantry, from whence the 
 mistress thought she heard smothered sobs 
 coming, and Sniggy drew very close to the 
 fire, as if he were cold. 
 
 " Art'na goin' to ha' sum' ? " asked Jabe, 
 turning to their host, after he had served the 
 schoolmistress. 
 
 " Neaw, neaw ! " cried Sniggy hastily, " bud 
 help yo'rsels, aw on yer." 
 
 The dish turned out to be pigeon-pie, or 
 rather a mixture of pigeon and steak, a very 
 popular dainty in the Brick-croft, and the 
 schoolmistress shrewdly surmised that they 
 were eating some of Sniggy's own birds. 
 
 But it was a melancholy feast. Once or 
 twice Miss Redford tried to start a conver- 
 sation, but Jabe and Ben answered in mono- 
 syllables, and the master of the house cowered 
 gloomily over the fire. 
 
 When supper was over and they were turn- 
 ing with feelings of relief from the tables, Sniggy 
 turned to Jabe, who was nearest, and asked — 
 
 " Han yo' finished it ? " 
 
 " Ay, lad." 
 
 " Ivery bit ? " 
 
 " Ay ! Except t' boanes." 
 
 Then there was a pause. Sniggy had evi-
 
 " BULLET" PIE 213 
 
 dently something more to say, but found it 
 difficult to say it. By and by, looking from 
 Ben to Jabe, and finally resting his eyes on the 
 mistress, he stammered out — 
 
 " Yo'—yo'n etten tJi ' Bullet^ " and burst into 
 passionate sobs. 
 
 Poor Sniggy had realised very early in his 
 spiritual struggles that the supreme conflict 
 would be fought about his idolised pigeon. 
 Again and again he had staved matters off by 
 sacrificing his dog and his drink, and eventually 
 several of his less distinguished birds, but it 
 always came back to the same point. If ever 
 he was saved the "Bullet" would have to go, and 
 so, after a whole night's struggle, he at last 
 nerved himself to the great sacrifice by the 
 thought common in the Brick-croft that the 
 schoolmistress " clemm't hersel'," and he would 
 give her one good meal at anyrate. So with 
 a terrible struggle he made the supper, achieved 
 his victory, and soon after found spiritual rest. 
 
 The revival lasted some weeks after this. 
 Many of Sniggy's companions followed his 
 example, and soon the whole district was moved 
 by the story of this wonderful work of God. 
 
 No Methodist revival is complete without a 
 Lovefeast, and so on the last Sunday of the 
 services there was a never-to-be-forgotten one 
 instead of the Sunday evening service at Beck- 
 side. 
 
 The chapel was packed. All the Brick-croft
 
 214 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 men " testified," and each in turn made grateful, 
 if somewhat clumsy, allusion to " th' schoo'- 
 missis," as the first human cause of their 
 conversion. 
 
 Everybody was on " tenter-hooks " to hear 
 the wonderful teacher speak, but in her retreat 
 behind the singing-pew curtain she held down 
 her head, and laughed and cried quietly to 
 herself. 
 
 Presently Lige and Jonas Tatlock began to 
 scowl and nod their heads excitedly in the 
 direction of Long Ben's pew, and that worthy 
 puzzled for a moment, suddenly heard several 
 voices calling in loud whispers, " Th' missis," 
 and, rising, he stepped up the pulpit stairs and 
 said something to the preacher. 
 
 " Perhaps Sister Redford will say a few 
 words," said the preacher, and then the school- 
 mistress rose, and with her great eyes full of 
 glory and her lips quivering with intense 
 emotion, she looked timidly round on the 
 many radiant faces upturned to hers. She 
 tried to speak, but there was nothing of the 
 schoolmistress about her that day, and her 
 tones were low and timid. 
 
 " Speak up," people began to cry, and when 
 every ear was strained to hear, the tense silence 
 was broken by the well-known voice of the 
 Clogger, crying in tones quivering with deep 
 emotion — 
 
 " Bless thi, wench ; goo i' th' poopit."
 
 A Diplomatic Reverse 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 215
 
 A Diplomatic Reverse 
 
 Weak people are great trials to their friends, 
 and Long Ben was a frequent source of anxiety 
 to old Jabe. Ben was so easily moved, and 
 so rash when he was moved, that the C logger 
 told him every week of his life, " Thy yed's as 
 sawft as a fuz-baw" (ball). 
 
 In financial matters Jabe regarded him as 
 utterly incompetent. He was so open-handed 
 towards the borrower, and so patient and 
 hopeful towards his debtors, that he was 
 informed by his chief mentor again and 
 again, " Tha'll ne'er ha' nowt woll tha'rt wik " 
 (living). 
 
 More than one Becksider had been dis- 
 appointed of temporary loans from Ben by the 
 sudden and peremptory interference of the 
 C logger, and Ben scarcely ever came to the 
 Clog Shop without being catechised as to the 
 state of his account with this or that slow- 
 paying debtor. If Ben became reticent in any 
 of these matters Jabe at once took the alarm, 
 and by threatening and judicious " pumpings," 
 and occasionally by plottings with Ben's wife, 
 
 217
 
 2i8 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 ultimately got the truth out of him, and some- 
 times saved him from loss. 
 
 Of late years, however, Ben, partly out of 
 shy modesty, and partly out of fear of the 
 Clogger, had developed a quite crafty slyness 
 in his methods of rendering help to others. 
 
 " He's that fawse [cunning], wench," Jabe 
 would confide to Mrs. Ben in their consultations 
 on the subject, " He'd diddle Owd Scratch 
 hissel', an' we ne'er knaw wot he's up to." 
 
 And the dogger's difficulties were compli- 
 cated by the view he took of himself. He 
 regarded himself as of a naturally hard and 
 unsympathetic disposition, with a terrible tend- 
 ency towards grasping greediness. Financial 
 operations were therefore very welcome to the 
 old Adam in him, but very baneful, he feared, 
 in their effects on his spiritual life, so that when 
 Ben's weaknesses compelled him to act the part 
 of an astute worldly-wise counsellor to his 
 friend, it was done at great risk to his own 
 soul. 
 
 Under these circumstances it will be easily 
 seen how grievous a cross Ben's weaknesses 
 were to poor Jabe. It must, however, be stated, 
 if we are to make a full and faithful record, 
 that the Clogger did not bear his cross either 
 meekly or silently. 
 
 Jabe had been busy one day teaching his 
 apprentice the art of clog-sole shaping, and 
 as the work had been trying to both his back
 
 A DIPLOMATIC REVERSE 219 
 
 and his temper, he was resting and taking a 
 quiet whiff, meditating the while on a little 
 problem which was just then exercising his mind. 
 
 Four or five months before, Ralph Green, 
 the cut-looker, had died, leaving a wife and five 
 children unprovided for. There was the club 
 money, of course, and Ralph, though delicate, 
 had managed to put a little into the savings 
 bank at Duxbury ; so that it was well known 
 that the bereaved family would be in no par- 
 ticular need for a little time. 
 
 But time had travelled quickly, and Jabe, 
 reckoning it up, was startled to find that nearly 
 five months had gone, and that therefore it 
 was high time to make some inquiry into the 
 condition of the family. 
 
 But Ben was in the way. If the subject 
 were broached in his presence he would be sure 
 to go right off and do something foolish, and 
 something which, with his large family, he 
 could ill afford. 
 
 And then Mrs. Green was not exactly a 
 persona grata. She was a quiet, shy sort of 
 woman. It was reluctantly granted that, as 
 a wife and mother, she was " reet enuff," but 
 as a neighbour she was close, reserved, and 
 stiffly proud. Jabe, with the rest of the villagers, 
 felt this, and he had difficulty in repressing 
 a feeling of satisfaction that now, at anyrate 
 she would be compelled to make friends of her 
 neighbours.
 
 220 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 At the same time, the Clogger justly sur- 
 mised that, if help were given to the cut- 
 looker's family, considerable care would have 
 to be taken as to the mode of rendering it, 
 or else it might be refused. 
 
 And then, none of the Greens were " mem- 
 bers," so that to the strictly legal mind of the 
 senior society steward there was a difficulty in 
 the way of helping them from the chapel poor's 
 fund. To further complicate matters, Jabe 
 suspected himself of disinclination to help this 
 case of need, which was another indication of 
 the original desperateness of his nature, and 
 entirely shook his own confidence in his power 
 to rightly judge the matter. 
 
 Altogether the subject provided a very neat 
 problem, which might have occupied two or 
 three nights' discussion around the Clog Shop 
 fire, and have given opportunities for the dis- 
 play of those fine forensic talents on which 
 Jabe prided himself, but for that irritating and 
 humiliating weakness of Long Ben's. 
 
 By this time the dogger's pipe was out, and 
 hung negligently between his lips, threatening 
 every moment to drop to the ground. The 
 apprentice, standing almost up to the knees in 
 clog-chips, was perspiring over his work and 
 inaudibly anathematising obdurate clog-soles, 
 when there was a murmur of young voices 
 outside, the " sneck " of the shop-door was 
 gently and hesitatingly lifted, the door itself
 
 A DIPLOMATIC REVERSE 221 
 
 slowly pushed open, and in came two children, 
 a boy and a girl. They carried a basket which 
 seemed to contain something heavy, and after 
 carefully closing the door after them, they 
 dropped their burden upon the floor. 
 
 " Well, wot dun yd want ? " demanded Jabe, 
 taking his pipe out of his mouth, and scowling 
 with a sternness he always assumed when talking 
 to children. 
 
 For a moment or two there was no answer ; 
 the boy looked at the girl ; and the girl, catch- 
 ing at her pinafore as if preparing to cry, 
 looked back at the boy. 
 
 Presently, however, the girl seemed to repent 
 of her tears, and making a resolute effort, 
 which drove the blood from her thin cheeks, 
 she stammered — 
 
 " Dun yo' want ta bey ony roppits [rabbits], 
 Jabe?" 
 
 The Clogger rose to his feet, and seemed 
 about to explode upon his visitors, when the 
 boy chimed in — 
 
 " Full-bred Spanish, yo' known ; nineteen 
 inches across th' ye'rs." 
 
 " Roppits ! yo' wastrils," cried Jabe, in a 
 grossly overdone pretence of anger ; " wot dew 
 Aw want wi' roppits ? Tak' 'em aat o' th' 
 place, or" — 
 
 But the girl plucked up courage, and 
 dropping into a slightly wheedling tone, she 
 said —
 
 222 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 " Yo' met bey 'em, Jabe, my — We 
 wanten th' brass." 
 
 " Brass ! Wot dun yo' want th' brass fur ? " 
 
 But a look of sudden resoluteness came into 
 the eyes of the children, and the girl shook her 
 head admonitorily at her brother, and then 
 answered — 
 
 " We conna tell thi, Jabe." 
 
 " Yo' conna tell," shouted the Clogger ; " yo' 
 meean yo' winna." 
 
 And then, suddenly, as if to surprise some- 
 thing out of them, he asked — 
 
 " Does yur muther knaw as yur sellin' 
 'em ? " 
 
 Another look of caution shot into the girl's 
 eyes, but before she could speak the boy had 
 answered, " Neaw." 
 
 " Neaw ! Tha'rt a bonny mon ta cum sellin' 
 roppits ba'at tellin' thy muther," cried Jabe, 
 addressing the boy as evidently the less 
 artful. 
 
 But the sister had telegraphed some kind of 
 warning to her brother, and he stood and refused 
 to answer a word. Then Jabe tried [several 
 other questions without much success, and 
 finally said — 
 
 " Naa, then, Aw'm just wantin' a pur [pair] 
 o' roppits like thoose," and he lifted the basket 
 lid and glanced critically at the occupants. 
 " Aw've a hempty pig-hoile daan th' garden 
 yond', an' Aw want ta keep 'em in it ; bud
 
 A DIPLOMATIC REVERSE 223 
 
 Aw'st bey noa roppits off childer as corn't tell 
 me wot they're goin' fur t' dew wi' th' brass." 
 
 The young rabbit - vendors breathed hard 
 and looked at each other in dire perplexity, 
 and then the girl glanced apprehensively at 
 the apprentice, who, on perceiving that he was 
 noticed, suddenly resumed his clog - shaping 
 with demonstrative haste. 
 
 " Here, Isaac ! " cried Jabe. " Goa daan th' 
 gardin' an' mak' a place for these roppits i' th' 
 pig-coite." 
 
 As soon as Isaac had disappeared on his 
 invented errand, Jabe demanded the price ot 
 the wonderful Black Spanishes, and on having 
 two shillings each tentatively quoted to him, he 
 pulled two half-crowns out of his pocket, and 
 balancing them on his fingers, he said — 
 
 " Naa, then ; wot dun yo' want th' brass 
 fur?" 
 
 The children hesitated, looked longingly at 
 the coins and then at each other, heaved great, 
 anxious sighs, and then the girl ventured — 
 
 " Will yo' tell onybody, Jabe ? " 
 
 " Tell onybody ? Not me" cried Jabe, in a 
 tone expressive of the utter impossibility of 
 such a thing. 
 
 There was another pause, and then the girl 
 drew a long breath, hesitated, took a step nearer 
 the old Clogger, and then giving way suddenly, 
 she fell forward with her head on his breast, 
 and sobbed —
 
 224 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 " We want ta give it my muther fur th' 
 rent." 
 
 No Becksider of any experience would have 
 believed it, but it is nevertheless true, that Jabe 
 did not remove the little hot face that was 
 buried in his bosom, and it was also true that 
 whilst he was speaking to the brother, blushing 
 and ashamed of his sister's tears, but hovering 
 perilously near them himself, Jabe's arm some- 
 how strayed round to the other side of the 
 sobbing child, and as he talked he drew her 
 tightly to him and held her there. 
 
 " Haa dust knaw thy muther conna pay 
 th' rent hersel' ? " he asked, looking at the boy, 
 and speaking in tones of most unnecessary 
 grufifness. 
 
 " 'Cause Owd Croppy came for it yesterday, 
 an' he sauced my muther, an' aar Lizer theer 
 sleeps wi' my muther, an' hoo says hoo wur 
 skrikin' welly aw neet." 
 
 As the reader will have surmised, Jabe's 
 juvenile visitors were the children of Widow 
 Green, and the interview just described brought 
 painfully home to the Clogger the state of 
 affairs at the cut-looker's cottage. 
 
 So with a brief, brusque admonition to 
 secrecy, Jabe dismissed the children, and ad- 
 journed to the parlour for tea, previously telling 
 the apprentice to take great care of the rabbits 
 for a day or two. 
 
 Over tea and the pipe that followed, Jabe
 
 A DIPLOMATIC REVERSE 225 
 
 matured his plans with difficulty. It was very- 
 provoking not to be able to take Ben into 
 his confidence, and he resolved to punish that 
 troublesome weakling by keeping him out of 
 the affair altogether. 
 
 Only Ben was much more ingenious and 
 inventive than the Clogger, and Jabe sorely 
 needed a suggestion or two from him as to the 
 quietest and most roundabout way of conveying 
 the assistance to be rendered. Invention, in 
 fact, was not Jabe's strong point, and he knew 
 it, and so he was still chasing through his brain 
 ideas that refused to be caught when the cronies 
 began to assemble for the evening. 
 
 For a time he sat at his bench and took no 
 part in the conversation. Presently, however, 
 he pulled off his apron for the night, and joined 
 the circle round the fire. 
 
 " Has ony on yo' yerd haa Phebe Green's 
 goin' on ? " he asked, with a laborious attempt 
 at indifference which excited more curiosity 
 than his most anxious tones could have done, 
 and unfortunately woke up Long Ben, who 
 seemed to be dozing far into the nook. 
 
 But nobody seemed to know anything, and 
 Nathan the smith declared that " They met 
 be clemmin' i' th' haase for owt as they towd 
 onybody " ; and Sam Speck said he " couldn't 
 abide sitch fawse pride." 
 
 Jabe undertook a feeble defence of the widow, 
 all the time keeping a vigilant eye on Long 
 
 15
 
 226 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 Ben, who manifested a most satisfactory lack 
 of interest. In fact, Ben only seemed to really 
 wake up when Sniggy Parkin came in and 
 announced that he was going to " tak' cur " 
 (care) of his " owd woman," and, for a start, 
 " Th' mangle's for sale I " 
 
 Now the sale of Molly's mangle was a matter 
 of public interest. Wringing - machines were 
 scarce in Beckside. Johnty Harrop's wife had 
 got one, of course, and so had Jimmy Juddy's 
 Nancy, and one or two others of the upper ten, 
 but for the rest everybody took their clothes to 
 the public mangles. 
 
 Until recently there had been two in the 
 village, — one owned by Blind Alice, and patron- 
 ised by the more respectable of the Becksiders, 
 and Molly Parkin's in the Brick -croft, supported 
 by the democracy. But some weeks before 
 Blind Alice had been taken to the Asylum, and 
 her mangle removed to Clough End. 
 
 The sale of Molly's machine therefore would 
 create a sort of public crisis. It was agreed on 
 all hands that the Brick-croft mangle must not 
 leave the village, and Long Ben seemed so 
 absorbed in the situation, and its possible 
 developments, that Jabe rejoiced to think that 
 Widow Green would drop for the time out of 
 his thoughts. Meanwhile, what must be done 
 for the Greens ? 
 
 The next night proved so very wet that 
 nobody turned up at the Clog Shop except
 
 A DIPLOMATIC REVERSE 227 
 
 Sam Speck. But Sam was clearly pre- 
 judiced. 
 
 " Hoo keeps hersel' to hersel' ; leave her to 
 hersel'," was his dictum. 
 
 Then Jabe opened his mind more fully, but 
 though they talked for a long time, the two 
 schemers could invent nothing better than a 
 tortuous and involved system of subsidies to 
 be given as occasion offered under various 
 elaborate pretexts. When they parted neither 
 was quite satisfied with the outcome of their 
 consultation, and Jabe was more and more irate 
 at Ben for his unavailability. 
 
 That same night, wet though it was, Ben 
 paid a visit to Phebe Green. 
 
 ** Arta' in, Phebe ? " he asked, opening the 
 door a little, and holding it. 
 
 " Ay," said a somewhat weary voice, and the 
 carpenter stepped inside, and reared his big 
 umbrella on the slop-stone to drip. 
 
 " Childer, reitch a cheer," said Phebe, and 
 when Ben had taken his seat, and given a sour- 
 sweet to each of the children, he stole a quiet 
 look round the house, and then glanced shyly 
 at the widow. She looked older and sadder 
 than of yore, Ben noted with a pang, and there 
 was that harassed look which sorrow never 
 brings to the face except when blended with 
 worry. 
 
 " Phebe, thee an' me's allls been thick, 'anna 
 we ? " he ventured at last.
 
 228 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 "Ay," said Phebe, but there was suspicion 
 and rising resistance in her tones. 
 
 " Well, Aw want thi ta dew me a favour, ay, 
 an' aw Beckside tew, if thaa will." 
 
 " Wot dust want ? " asked the widow, still 
 cautious and icy. 
 
 " Why, we're goin' t' be ba'at a mangle i' Beck- 
 side, an' Aw thowt sum on us met bey it in if 
 thaa'd tak' it fur a bit, an' work it fur th' good 
 o' th' village, thaa knaws." 
 
 Phebe, a tall, severe-looking woman, stood 
 looking down upon Ben, white and motionless 
 as a statue, and then the fountains of the deep 
 seemed suddenly to open within her, and with 
 a passionate cry she staggered to a seat, and 
 leaning her head on the table, she sobbed out — 
 
 " O Lord, Thaa art * the Father of the 
 fatherless, and the Husband of the widow ' ! 
 just when Aw were at th' fur end Thaa's sent 
 me deliverance." 
 
 Presently her agitation subsided, and, look- 
 ing up at the carpenter, she cried : " It's just 
 loike thee, Ben Barber, bud thy wife an' childer 
 'ull ne'er want for nowt as long as theer's a 
 God aboon us ! " 
 
 " Aw see nowt ta tak' on o' that rooad 
 abaat," said Ben, with a look of surprise which 
 was not perhaps perfectly sincere. " If owd 
 Molly's mangle went aat o' th' village it 'ud be 
 Dicky Pink wi' aw th' Beckside cleean clooas. 
 Th' childer 'ull be able ta turn fur thi."
 
 A DIPLOMATIC REVERSE 229 
 
 " But," he continued, suddenly assuming a 
 brisk business air to bring Pliebe back to com- 
 mercial matters, and with a thought also of 
 saving her pride, " tha'll ha' ta dew aar 
 manglin' fur nowt fur a month or tew if thaa 
 wants th' mangle fur thy own." 
 
 When Ben had gone, having in leaving 
 bound Phebe over to strict secrecy for a few 
 days, the widow's children were amazed to see 
 their staid, emotionless mother kiss them im- 
 pulsively all round, with a series of hugs for 
 the podgy baby, and caught some of their 
 mother's gladness when they heard her say — 
 
 " Thank God, wee'st be able ta pay aar rooad 
 naa, ay, an' put a bit of a stooan on yer fayther's 
 grave an' aw." 
 
 Next night Jabe made a visit to the widow's 
 with his first subsidy in his pocket, and was 
 both surprised and encouraged by a new soft- 
 ness in Phebe's manner. 
 
 " Hay ! " he said, looking significantly at the 
 two children with whom he had negotiated the 
 purchase of the animals, " we 'an had sum wark 
 wi' yon roppits. They'll dreive me off mi yed 
 if Aw keep 'em mitch longer. Sithee, Jack ! 
 If tha'll fotch 'em back tha'st have 'em for 
 nowt, an' Aw'll give thi summat fur t' tak' 'em 
 aat o' mi seet." 
 
 This speech, of course, had a very lively 
 effect on young Jack's spirits, but quite a con- 
 trary one apparently on those of his mother,
 
 230 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 who thus learnt for the first time to whom the 
 creatures had been sold. 
 
 A frosty silence followed. Jabe had an 
 uneasy sense of having blundered somehow, 
 and so presently, discarding the subterfuges 
 for which he felt so ill-fitted, he said, with a 
 sigh of anticipatory sympathy — 
 
 " Well, wench, haa ar'ta goin' on ? " 
 
 " Pratty weel," said Phebe shyly ; " wi' God's 
 help an' my naybors' Aw think wee'st pull 
 through." 
 
 The reply finished in so cheerful a tone, 
 and Phebe herself looked so easy, that Jabe 
 suspected there must be some recent cause for 
 it, and beat about the bush for information. 
 But it was no use, and so he retired in the 
 hope of gleaning something at the Clog Shop 
 fire. 
 
 But nobody responded to his very palpable 
 leadings, and Long Ben's conduct was so un- 
 exceptionable as to disarm all suspicion of him. 
 
 Jabe was so ill-satisfied with the result of 
 his first visit that he went to the widow's again 
 the next night, but though Phebe was out and 
 Jabe used his utmost artifices with the children, 
 he got " noa furrader," as he grumblingly ad- 
 mitted to himself going home. 
 
 Next day he went again, resolving to have 
 no more evasions, but to compel Phebe to 
 accept his help, and even if necessary to scold 
 her for her sinful pride. But though Phebe
 
 A DIPLOMATIC REVERSE 231 
 
 was very kind, and even talkative for her, it 
 was evident that she suspected his errand, and 
 was bent on thwarting him, and so after stay- 
 ing a very long time he abandoned the entire 
 scheme in sheer bad temper, and spitefully 
 banged the door as he went out. 
 
 But next day the mangle was removed to 
 Phebe's, and before night everybody knew of 
 the new arrangements. 
 
 Jabe heard of it very early, of course, and 
 sat over his work preparing for Long Ben the 
 best " dressin' daan " he ever had in his life. 
 But Ben evidently thought discretion the better 
 part of valour, and did not turn up, for he knew 
 that Jabe would suspect him of having arranged 
 the matter. 
 
 Besides the absence of Ben, the conduct of 
 the rest of the Clog Shop cronies was irritating. 
 Jabe sat at his seat before the window some 
 time after his ordinary hour for adjournment, 
 and toiled on in moody unsociability, but the 
 others — Sam Speck, Lige, and Nathan the 
 smith — got as far as they could into the ingle- 
 nook, and were whispering and breaking into 
 sudden explosions of laughter, which they made 
 great haste to suppress. 
 
 Jabe concluded they were rejoicing over the 
 way in which Ben had out-manoeuvred him, 
 and bore it with ill-smothered wrath. When 
 Lige and Nathan had gone, the Clogger drew 
 up to the fire, and Sam, whose face wore a
 
 232 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 broad grin, at once looked preternaturally grave, 
 but after struggling with himself for a few 
 moments, overcome by irresistible inward merri- 
 ment, he burst into an uproarious laugh. 
 
 The look Jabe cast on him would have 
 frozen any mirth, however, and so, as soon as 
 he could make a straight face, he leaned for- 
 ward and said — 
 
 " Dust knaw wot they're sayin' abaat thi ? " 
 
 " Aw nayther knaw nor care," snapped the 
 Clogger, looking fiercely into the fire. 
 
 " They say " — but Sam got up and prepared 
 for sudden exit, as he said it — " they say as 
 thaa's started o' courtin' Phebe Green ; " and 
 away Sam rushed, waking the echoes by his 
 explosions of laughter as he crossed the road 
 for home.
 
 Vaulting Ambition 
 
 I 
 
 O'erleaping 
 
 233
 
 Vaulting Ambition 
 I 
 
 O'erleaping 
 
 The Clogger sat at a table under his parlour 
 window with Fleetwood's Life of Christ open 
 before him as a writing-pad, a very short 
 stumpy pen in his hand, smudges of ink on 
 his fingers and lips, and an irritated, indignant 
 look on his rugged countenance. 
 
 Seated in a chair beside him, and bending 
 so intently over him as to seriously incommode 
 him, and thus intensify his anger, was a long, 
 thin-faced woman of nearly his own age, who 
 wore under her shawl the " brat " of the ordinary 
 card-room factory-hand, which still had traces 
 of cotton " rovings " upon it. This was Rachel 
 Walmsley, Jabe's cousin, a widow who lived by 
 herself in one of the small cottages between the 
 chapel and the Fold farm. 
 
 The two were occupied in writing a letter, 
 which was a very serious business, as the 
 
 235
 
 236 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 Clogger hated writing, and Rachel could not 
 even read. The letter was intended for the 
 widow's only son Richard, a young doctor in 
 London. Rachel usually wrote about once in 
 three months, using Jabe as an amanuensis, 
 and the composition of the letter generally 
 produced a fierce conflict between the two. 
 
 Jabe, to whom the task was utterly abhor- 
 rent, was always bitterly sarcastic about some 
 of the things dictated to him, and immovably 
 obstinate about others, whilst Rachel was tor- 
 mented with the suspicion that Jabe was not 
 quite as scholarly as he pretended to be, and 
 that her instructions to him were freely trans- 
 lated, and often cruelly abbreviated, by the 
 penman to save trouble. The writing of this 
 letter, therefore, was generally the occasion of 
 a battle royal, out of which Jabe usually came 
 with a complete loss of temper and self-respect, 
 vowing with fierce resolution, " Aw'll niver write 
 anuther woll my heart's warm." 
 
 On the present occasion, however, the letter 
 was of more than usual interest, and Rachel 
 was therefore more than usually trying, and 
 Jabe was already in a high fever of irritation 
 and disgust. 
 
 " Theer," exclaimed the widow, as Jabe, 
 having over-dipped his pen, made a black spot 
 on the letter, and then tried to remove it by 
 using the end of his finger as a blotting-pad, 
 " that's th' third blotch ta-neet, wun upo' ivery
 
 VAULTING AMBITION 237 
 
 page. That's a bonny letter to goa to a Lun- 
 don doctor, isn't it ? " 
 
 ** Haa con Aw help it wi' thee mauling abaat 
 me ? " shouted Jabe. " Tha mak's me aw of a 
 whacker " (shake). 
 
 " Whacker ? Ay ! that's thy ill-temper. Tha 
 ne'er had a grain of patience sin' Aw knowed 
 thi." 
 
 " Temper ? Of aw th' aggravatin' " — 
 
 But the Clogger stopped, took off his spec- 
 tacles, laid down his stumpy pen, moved his 
 chair from the table, and relighting an un- 
 finished pipe, puffed away in grim silence, his 
 weak member rocking up and down over the 
 knee of the other leg at a frantic rate. 
 
 Rachel, knowing well with whom she had to 
 do, and quite accustomed to demonstrations of 
 this kind, waited quietly for some time, during 
 which Jabe, sitting with his back to her, gave 
 vent every now and then to an angry snort. 
 At length she said mildly — 
 
 " Aar Rutchart [Richard] thinks a seet o' 
 thee, Jabe." 
 
 Another snort from the Clogger, and a 
 resumption of violent leg exercise. 
 
 " He'll be whoam afoor lung, naa, and ther'll 
 be noabry praader on him nor thee, Jabe." 
 
 The smoke began to puff from Jabe's pipe 
 in short, rapid whiffs. 
 
 " Didn't tha read as he wor thinkin' o' settlin' 
 amung his own fouk i' Beckside, Jabe ? "
 
 238 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 " Naa, Aw'll tell thee wot, Rachel," cried the 
 Clogger, rising to his feet and limping to the 
 table, " Aw'st finish this letter, if it dreives me 
 maddlet ; but, mind thee, Aw'st write noa mooar, 
 nayther fur thee nor yo'r Rutchart." 
 
 And with a visage of adamantine resolu- 
 tion, the Clogger picked up his pen and sat 
 down again before " Fleetwood," demanding 
 snappishly as he did so — 
 
 " Wot's th' next ? " 
 
 " Tell him fur t' moind wot he's doin' wi' 
 them Lundon wenches. They're a fawse lot, 
 an' "— 
 
 " But Aw've towd him that awready." 
 
 " Naa, thaa hezna." 
 
 " Then Aw said it th' last toime." 
 
 " Ay, bud that's three munths sin', thaa 
 knows." 
 
 " Three munths ? Whey, Aw've towd him 
 that i' ivery letter Aw've written this last five 
 ye'r. Dust think th' lad's sawft ? " 
 
 " Hay, bud it 'ud be an awful thing, Jabez, 
 if he browt a forriner ta Beckside." 
 
 " Lundoners ar'na forriners, tha lump-yed. 
 Thaa'll be cawin' th' * super' a forriner next, 
 'cause he cums fro' Lundon." 
 
 " Tell him theer's sum gradely nice wenches 
 i' Beckside, an' " — 
 
 " Beckside 1 " shouted the Clogger, rising out 
 of his chair once more in amazement and 
 indignation. " Dust think there's ony wench i'
 
 VAULTING AMBITION 239 
 
 Beckside as is fit for a Lundon doctor ? He'll 
 live in a big haase, woman, wi' a brass knocker 
 upo' th' dur, an' a sarvant lass, an' he'll want a 
 wife as can talk fine and play th' pianney and 
 visit th' quality." 
 
 For a moment a look of exulting pride stood 
 on the faded face of the widow, but it disap- 
 peared instantly, and in its place came a look 
 of alarm, which developed rapidly into intense 
 anxiety. She leaned back in her chair, her 
 thin face became ashy pale, and at last she 
 said, quietly and huskily — 
 
 " His muther 'ull shawm [shame] him, 
 then ? " 
 
 Jabe banged the pen down on the book 
 before him, and cried out in exasperated, 
 despairing tones — 
 
 " Hay, dear ! " and then, suddenly turning 
 on Rachel, he continued, " If yo'r Dick's iver 
 shawmed of his muther, th' Longworth blood's 
 bred aat on him, that's aw ! Shawmed of his 
 muther ! His muther's a meytherin' owd 
 maddlin', iver ta think o' sitch a thing." 
 
 But the thought was evidently a new one to 
 Rachel, and rapidly took root in her mind. 
 She became so occupied with it, in fact, that 
 Jabe had no further difficulty in getting his 
 task finished, and was too rejoiced thereat to 
 notice the deeply pensive look on his cousin's 
 face. 
 
 Rachel had called at the Clog Shop on her
 
 240 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 way home from the mill, and when she reached 
 her own cottage the shadow caused by the 
 words of Jabe deepened on her face, and tears 
 dropped upon the highly-polished fireirons as 
 she made and lighted the fire. When she sat 
 down to tea, it proved a long and melancholy 
 meal. 
 
 She had been made a widow by a mill 
 accident some twenty years before, and had 
 been left with one child, a bright little fellow 
 of six. Several offers of marriage had been 
 made to her, but she had peremptorily refused 
 all, and lived alone with her child, who spent 
 his time at Aunt Judy's when his mother was 
 at the mill. 
 
 Richard had grown up a fine sharp boy, of 
 more than ordinary promise ; and so when he 
 was about fourteen, and had long been pester- 
 ing his mother to allow him to go to work like 
 other boys, Rachel had got Jabe to write to her 
 brother-in-law, a tradesman in Manchester, to 
 inquire if he knew of an opening for the lad. 
 
 James Walmsley came to see Richard and 
 his own old home at Beckside, took a great 
 fancy to his fatherless nephew, and finally took 
 him back with him. But, instead of finding 
 him a situation, he had sent him to school 
 again, and kept him there. 
 
 Then he discovered that Dick had a strong 
 wish to be a doctor ; and so, after many con- 
 sultations with Rachel, he was sent to a college,
 
 VAULTING AMBITION 241 
 
 and after a successful career had qualified some 
 three years previous to the time of which we 
 write, and the letter to which the one which 
 had caused Jabe so much trouble was the reply 
 had informed his mother that he was going a 
 long sea voyage as a ship's surgeon, and that 
 on his return he intended to come back to his 
 native village and try to establish a practice in 
 the neighbourhood. 
 
 Now, all this had been marrow and fatness 
 to the widow. She had feared he would never 
 come back and settle among his own. Years 
 ago, when on one of his rare visits she had 
 hinted at it. Uncle James had shaken his head 
 and quoted the text about the prophet in his 
 own country. 
 
 And then she was haunted by a terrible 
 dread of his marrying some " forriner," and 
 thus putting another barrier between them. 
 But the fact that her heart's idol would not be 
 the same simple, merry boy she had given up 
 long ago with such terrible pangs, but a fine 
 gentleman with " quality " ways and refined 
 tastes, had never presented itself to her exactly 
 as it did as the result of Jabe's words. 
 
 She was no sort of companion for a gentle- 
 man, she saw instantly, and she did not hide 
 from herself that she would probably be a 
 serious hindrance to him in society, and also, 
 by her unfitness to manage his house and 
 preside at his table, drive him into that very 
 
 16
 
 242 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 matrimonial market from which she longed to 
 keep him. 
 
 For over twenty years she had worked and 
 screwed and waited, sustained always by the 
 dream of a strong, clever, prosperous son to 
 love her and do her honour, and now the dream 
 vanished into thin air. When he became a 
 medical student she had given up all hope of 
 his ever settling in his native village, and now, 
 when her dearest wish was about to be fulfilled, 
 and her boy was coming home, she felt she 
 must begin a remorseless process of self- 
 undeception and give up all she had lived for. 
 
 She blamed herself for not having thought 
 of all this before. She understood now why 
 " Rutchart " had pressed her so often in his 
 letters of late to give up going to the mill. 
 He had told her over and over again, in words 
 that were milk and honey to her, that he was 
 not of the marrying sort ; and now he would 
 be compelled to wed because his mother was 
 not fit to manage a house with a brass knocker 
 on the door and a " sarvant lass " in the kitchen. 
 
 It was a long, sad evening for poor Rachel, 
 and when she retired to rest it was but to toss 
 and roll about in perplexity and utter disap- 
 pointment. 
 
 Next night, however, Jabe noticed her pass 
 the shop with a firmness of gait which was 
 expressive of some change for the better in her 
 mental condition, and after partaking of tea she
 
 VAULTING AMBITION 243 
 
 fettled up the house rather more carefully than 
 usual, and went out to " class." 
 
 Coming down the " broo " from the meeting, 
 she invited the schoolmistress to make one of 
 her occasional calls. The call included a " soop 
 o' tay " and a bit of apple pasty. 
 
 Whilst they were sitting at the table Rachel 
 said suddenly — 
 
 " Larnin's a foine thing, miss." 
 
 ** Yes," said the mistress, wondering what 
 was the precise purpose of the remark. 
 
 " Haa owd 'an folk fur t' be afoor they 
 stoppen larnin' ? " 
 
 " The younger the better, of course ; but 
 people are never too old to learn, you know, 
 Mrs. Walmsley." 
 
 " Ay, but yo' conna teitch an owd dog ony 
 new tricks." 
 
 " Oh yes, we may all learn. ' Where there's 
 a will there's a way,' you know." 
 
 But whilst the mistress was wondering what 
 the conversation was intended to lead up to, 
 Rachel suddenly changed the topic by asking — 
 
 " Are yo' comfortable, lodging wi' Bob 
 Turner ? " 
 
 " Well, fairly comfortable ; they do their best 
 for me." 
 
 " Wod yo' like fur t' stop wi' me if Aw gav' 
 up goin' to th' shop ? " (mill). 
 
 Rachel's house was a tempting little nest of 
 a place, almost painfully clean, better furnished
 
 244 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 than most, and surrounded back and front with 
 an old-fashioned little garden which had often 
 excited Miss Redford's envy. 
 
 Rachel watched her visitor's face very nar- 
 rowly as she asked her question, and saw in- 
 stantly how welcome the change would be ; and 
 so without waiting for her reply she said — 
 
 " Aw want yo' ta cum an' live wi' me, an' 
 atsteead o' payin' me owt, yo'n ta larn me ta be 
 a lady." 
 
 An exclamation of surprise and amusement 
 broke from the mistress's lips, but before she 
 could reply Rachel had drawn her chair up close 
 to her, and was pouring into her ears the per- 
 ennial story of " aar Rutchart," adding, how- 
 ever, this time, several fresh items about his 
 approaching home-coming, her own dislike of 
 " forriners," and especially " forrin " women, and 
 her desire to " fettle " herself up, so as to have 
 some hope of keeping house for the doctor. 
 
 They talked for a long time, the schoolmis- 
 tress evidently shrinking from the proposed 
 task, and also objecting strenuously to the other 
 terms of the arrangement. But Rachel would 
 have her way. 
 
 " Yo' mun larn me my manners, an' haa ta 
 talk foine and ta read an' write, an' yo' mun 
 show me haa to tittivate th' haase up an' mak' 
 it a bit loike a Lundon haase," persisted the 
 older woman ; and in the end, without the least 
 faith as to the result, and with an uneasy sense
 
 VAULTING AMBITION 245 
 
 of the ridiculous in the matter, Miss Redford 
 consented to join Rachel in her little home. 
 
 Now, nobody was surprised when Rachel left 
 the mill. Some even expressed the opinion 
 that she ought to have done it long since, as it 
 was well known she had saved a " tidy bit." 
 Everybody approved also of her taking the 
 schoolmistress to live with her, for, in the 
 opinion of Beckside, nothing was too good for 
 that young lady. Of course, the precise pur- 
 pose of the new arrangement was carefully 
 concealed, and it was only when it began to 
 bear unexpected kinds of fruit that the neigh- 
 bours remarked upon it. 
 
 One Sunday morning Rachel appeared at 
 chapel with a gorgeously-bound hymn-book, 
 which she made a show of using during the 
 singing, and Sam Speck actually stopped in the 
 middle of a fine bass run as his eyes fell on 
 the widow using a hymn-book as big as the 
 pulpit one, but much handsomer, and pretend- 
 ing to read it through gold-rimmed spectacles. 
 
 A week or two later she appeared in that 
 surest sign of feminine greatness, a watered 
 silk dress, to which was added a little later a 
 fashionable mantle. 
 
 But the climax of outrageous innovation 
 was reached when Rachel began to call her 
 neighbours " Mister " and " Missis," and to 
 speak in a ridiculous mixture of dialect and 
 " fine talk."
 
 246 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 Now, it must not be supposed that the school- 
 mistress was responsible for all this. She saw 
 it with pain and shame. When the widow 
 persisted in her first proposals Miss Redford 
 had acquiesced in the hope of being able in a 
 quiet way to render her friend some assistance, 
 or at anyrate to prevent her exposing herself 
 to ridicule. 
 
 But she was soon in deep water. Rachel 
 gave up learning to write after the third lesson, 
 and proved but slow in acquiring power to 
 read. In the art of making a fair show in 
 the flesh, however, she effectually proved her 
 true womanhood by comprehending and carry- 
 ing out with astounding aptitude the gentle 
 hints given by her instructress. 
 
 Before long, indeed, she got out of leading- 
 strings altogether, took to going to Duxbury 
 every week, where she bought her own gar- 
 ments, and was able to study at first hand the 
 manners of the ladies she met with, and even 
 produced afterwards slightly grotesque imita- 
 tions of their toilets. 
 
 The mistress's efforts were confined almost 
 entirely to checking Rachel's immoderate zeal, 
 though once she went the length of openly 
 opposing the purchase of an outrageous bonnet 
 which a Duxbury milliner had called " so lady- 
 like." They disagreed most of all, perhaps, on 
 questions of colour. Miss Redford's diplomatic 
 resources were strained to the utmost to pre-
 
 VAULTING AMBITION 247 
 
 vent glaring offences, and she was driven back 
 more frequently than she liked upon her one 
 argument that never failed, " I'm sure the doctor 
 wouldn't like it." 
 
 It must not be supposed that Beckside was 
 indifferent to these things. They were inter- 
 mittently absorbing themes of conversation. At 
 the mangle-house, which was to Beckside 
 women what the Clog Shop was to the men, 
 Rachel's sudden rush into fashion was constantly 
 canvassed and unhesitatingly condemned, and 
 her " manners " and newly-adopted modes of 
 speech called forth all Lottie Speck's unrivalled 
 powers of mimicry. 
 
 At the Clog Shop the subject was discussed 
 under difficulties, for Rachel was the dogger's 
 cousin, and for a time it was not known how he 
 regarded the matter, whilst Jabe himself was 
 too much disgusted to allude to it. Hints, 
 however, were constantly being thrown out, and 
 when one night Jabe said a word or two which 
 seemed to invite discussion on the subject, he 
 was told so many things that he boiled over 
 with indignation. 
 
 Next day he called on the widow with his 
 temper very insecurely under control. As he 
 opened the door and stepped as usual over the 
 threshold he noticed with rising scorn that the 
 once carefully sanded floor was now covered 
 with new carpet. 
 
 " Ay ! " he began in withering tones. But
 
 248 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 before he could proceed he was met with the 
 startling rebuke — 
 
 " Jabez Longworth, you should knock when 
 you comes into folk's houses." 
 
 Arrested thus suddenly in his progress, and 
 overwhelmed with what he saw and heard, 
 Jabez stood in the middle of the room and 
 glared around in speechless astonishment. 
 Slowly his gaze focused itself upon Rachel, 
 and transfixing her with an annihilating glare, 
 he cried — 
 
 " Tha pride-brussen, mee-mawin, feathercock 
 owd maddlin, tha, wot's up with thi ? " 
 
 But Rachel was on her dignity, and so, 
 bridling up, she returned his fiery glare with 
 interest, and replied, betraying her excitement 
 by dropping into dialect — 
 
 "If thaa's ony manners thaa'll take thy cap 
 off i' fouk's haases." 
 
 The C logger stood back a step, surveyed 
 Rachel slowly and deliberately from head to 
 foot, and then with a tremendous thump on 
 the table with his horny fist, he cried — 
 
 " Ay, Aw'll tak' my cap off an' mysel' tew." 
 
 " An', Rachel," he continued, after a moment's 
 pause, *' thaa niver hed much sense, but sin' thaa 
 sowd thy sowl ta warldly pride thaa's lost wot 
 bit thaa hed. Good mornin', Missis Walmsley" 
 and, taking off his cap, he made her an elabor- 
 ate mock bow, and stalked haughtily out of 
 the house.
 
 VAULTING AMBITION 249 
 
 But Rachel was not to be turned from her 
 purpose. Her dread of being an embarrass- 
 ment to her son, and her fear of driving him 
 into marriage with a daughter of the PhiHs- 
 tines, acted as a stimulant to her energies, but 
 whilst she certainly advanced rapidly in some 
 things, her language was a bewildering medley, 
 and her Sunday outfit was fearfully and 
 wonderfully made. 
 
 At last there came a letter from the young 
 doctor to say that he had landed at South- 
 ampton, and was going to London for a few 
 days, but would be home in about a week, 
 Rachel heard the schoolmistress read of the 
 going to London with a pang, but soon forgot 
 it in the excitement of preparation to welcome 
 her boy. 
 
 Then came a second letter to say that 
 Richard would reach Duxbury Station by the 
 4.19 train on Thursday, and for two nights 
 poor Rachel never slept. Every few minutes 
 she was asking her lodger if she thought " the 
 doctor," as Miss Redford always called him, 
 would like this or that article of dress or furni- 
 ture, and the young lady was glad to have that 
 opportunity of correcting several things which 
 offended her taste. 
 
 On the subject of personal adornment, how- 
 ever, the elder woman was still untractable ; 
 and though the mistress's influence secured the 
 omission of the more glaring ornaments, the
 
 250 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 proud mother was still more than sufficiently 
 gorgeous when she started off, in a trap 
 specially hired from Duxbury, to meet her 
 son. 
 
 Now that the time had come she felt little 
 of the elation she had expected, but in its 
 place a nervous apprehension she found it 
 difficult to account for. She was now certain 
 that her boy would be too grand a fellow to 
 care much for a factory-hand mother, whom he 
 had only seen twice during the last seven 
 years, and that since mixing in such grand 
 society there would be nothing in Beckside to 
 satisfy him. 
 
 Would he admire her plum-coloured satin 
 dress in which she was meeting him ? She 
 was sure Miss Redford had been mistaken in 
 recommending that plain shawl instead of the 
 grand mantle. But, at anyrate, she had her 
 gold guard on, and so she arrived at the 
 station in a flurry of anxious misgivings. 
 
 Rachel had all a countrywoman's dread of 
 trains, and stood a long way back when the 
 express came in. In a moment she saw her 
 son. Oh, what a fine fellow ! What a fine 
 beard he had grown ! Here he comes ! He 
 has seen her, but after a hasty glance he looks 
 farther down the platform. He doesn't know 
 her ! Then he turns toward her again. She 
 starts forward with a cry, and in a moment he 
 has hugged her to his heart.
 
 VAULTING AMBITION 251 
 
 But after a long, hearty embrace the young 
 doctor holds her from him, glances perplexedly 
 at her grand outfit, and seems uneasy and a 
 shade disappointed, she fears. During the ride 
 home, though he talked freely as of old, he 
 seemed to be always looking at some part of 
 her apparel, and appeared a trifle flat and dis- 
 appointed, and even, she thought, distant. 
 
 But in a few moments Rachel had some- 
 thing else to think about. The day had been 
 very warm, but during the last hour it had 
 become sultry and thundery. Just as they 
 were reaching the top of the hill out of Dux- 
 bury the rain began to fall, and in a few 
 minutes it was pouring down. Rachel had 
 " forgotten " her umbrella — that is, she had 
 left it at home, because it was not fine enough. 
 The doctor's had been left behind with his lug- 
 gage, to come by Squire Taylor's cart. There 
 was no shelter near, and the driver had scarcely 
 any wraps. Such as he had were hastily 
 dragged from under the seat, and wrapped 
 round her shoulders, but, in spite of all, the 
 poor widow reached home in a drenched and 
 draggled condition. 
 
 The schoolmistress met them at the door, 
 and exclaimed as she saw their soaked clothes, 
 but as it was still raining heavily they made 
 haste to get indoors, and the doctor insisted 
 that " mother " should go and change at once. 
 
 But in the bedroom another scene took place.
 
 252 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 Rachel was disappointed and thoroughly out of 
 temper, and obstinately insisted on putting on 
 her watered silk. But the schoolmistress, 
 having taken her measure of the doctor, in- 
 sisted that the widow's ordinary black stuff 
 was the proper thing, and was so firm that 
 Rachel had most unwillingly to give in. By 
 the time she was ready to go down again she 
 felt sick of the whole affair, and more than a 
 little ashamed, and came into the wee parlour 
 with a very penitent look on her face. 
 
 The doctor was stooping down pulling on 
 an elastic-sided boot as she entered, but on 
 hearing her footsteps he lifted his head. A 
 look of surprised delight suddenly shone on 
 his bronzed face, and jumping forward he 
 seized her in his great arms, and giving her a 
 tremendous hug, he cried, dropping quite 
 naturally into the purest Beckside dialect — 
 
 " Hay ! Aw'd a fine lady i' th' trap wi' me. 
 But this is my gradely owd muther ! "
 
 Vaulting Ambition 
 
 II 
 
 Alighting 
 
 263
 
 Vaulting Ambition 
 
 II 
 
 Alighting 
 
 Sam Speck had often complained that there 
 had been an oversight in the building of the 
 Clog Shop. There ought to have been a 
 window in the gable end of it, for that would 
 have commanded a view of the road up past 
 the chapel, and have immensely enhanced the 
 value of the Clog Shop as a coign of vantage 
 from which to supervise the public life of the 
 village. 
 
 And on the night of the young doctor's 
 return, Sam particularly felt the absence of this 
 outlook. It was too wet to stand about out- 
 side, and too soon after his arrival to make a 
 decent excuse for calling, and yet Sam was 
 consumed with curiosity to see the doctor. 
 Lige, the road-mender, driven in from his work 
 by the rain, was also at the cloggery, and these 
 two — Sam in his character of cynic, and 
 
 255
 
 2S6 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 Lige from sheer depression of spirits — were 
 prophesying the certainty of the doctor's un- 
 approachableness and pride, and prophesying 
 all the more doggedly as their vaticinations 
 produced very welcome declarations of an 
 opposite character from Jabe. 
 
 As the evening drew on the company in- 
 creased, and whilst some expressed themselves 
 hopefully, the majority of the cronies belied 
 themselves by endorsing Long Ben's dictum 
 that " We conna expect owt else." 
 
 Jabe, however, stoutly held out, and whilst 
 admitting the force of Ben's argument as to 
 the length of time the boy had been absent, 
 the character of the society in which he had 
 mixed, and the appearance he would have to 
 keep up if he meant to succeed as a doctor, he 
 still expressed unbounded confidence in Richard, 
 and predicted that they would find that he had 
 not changed in the least. 
 
 In spite of all that Jabe could say, however, 
 the company took a desponding view of the 
 case, and Lige, the oldest person present, re- 
 lated numerous instances of persons who had 
 left Beckside poor and unknown, and who 
 either never acknowledged in after days the 
 place whence they had sprung, or else returned 
 occasionally and patronised the villagers with 
 most offensive condescension. 
 
 To crown all, Jethro, the knocker-up, recalled 
 the well-known instance of Tommy Royle, who.
 
 VAULTING AMBITION i5f 
 
 when he had risen to the dignity of mayor of 
 a distant borough, brought his grand wife and 
 a party of Corporation friends to see his birth- 
 place, and made fun of the village and its 
 inhabitants, even going to the length of chaffing 
 Jethro himself, for the amusement of his fine 
 friends, about the importance of Beckside, and 
 Jethro's thin voice assumed its deepest possible 
 tones as he impressively added, " Ten ye'r 
 after, he wor i' th' bastile." 
 
 The relation of this oft-repeated tale in the 
 present circumstances seemed to have a damp- 
 ing effect on the confidence even of Jabe, who 
 relapsed under it into pensive silence, and as 
 there was a long pause, — the most painful of 
 all things to Sam Speck, — he broke it by smit- 
 ing his thigh and crying in tones of unalterable 
 resolution — 
 
 " If Aw'd twenty childer, Aw'd keep 'em aw 
 a-whoam [at home], if we'd ta eight [eat] 
 porritch, and porritch to it." 
 
 Long Ben, as the family man of the party, 
 seemed to dissent from this view of the case, 
 but was so slow in replying that Jabe was just 
 taking his pipe out of his mouth to answer, 
 when the shop door sprang violently open, a 
 tall figure rushed through the doorway, and 
 putting a hand on the little counter and clear- 
 ing it at a jump, alighted on a heap of clog 
 chips on the other side. Turning to the 
 company, the young doctor — for it was he — 
 
 17
 
 258 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 cried out in tones welcome as music to those 
 who heard them — 
 
 " Hay, chaps, haa are yo' aw ? " and in a 
 moment he was taking them by the hands 
 and shaking them two at a time, and then 
 beginning again and shaking again, he cried — 
 
 " Hay ! bud Aw am fain to see yo' aw." 
 
 The effect was magical. Jabe straightened 
 himself up and glanced proudly round on the 
 rest. Sam and Lige looked embarrassed, but 
 very happy. Jethro turned into the corner on 
 the far side of the fireplace and blew his nose, 
 and Long Ben had recourse to a dirty red 
 cotton handkerchief. As it was summer time, 
 there was no fire in the ingle-nook, but the 
 cronies sat in a circle round it as though it 
 had been the depth of winter. 
 
 Room was made for " Rutchart," and he was 
 speedily installed as the guest of the evening. 
 In the excitement of greeting, most of the 
 pipes had gone out, and there was a general 
 refilling as an introduction to proper con- 
 versation. 
 
 As soon as the doctor perceived this he 
 
 *cried, " Howd on, chaps," and diving into the 
 
 pockets of a long loose coat, he produced a 
 
 handful of gigantic foreign cigars and handed 
 
 them round, crying as he did so — 
 
 ** Noa pipes ta-neet. Th' mon as starts a 
 pipe while theer's ony o' these left, Aw'll — 
 Aw'll chuck him i' th' Beck ! "
 
 VAULTING AMBITION 259 
 
 This terrible threat was quite unnecessary, 
 however, cigars being at all times scarce things 
 in Beckside, and foreign ones almost unknown, 
 and in a few moments seven round red spots 
 gleamed fitfully in the deepening twilight. 
 
 Yes, Richard Walmsley had come back to 
 Beckside absolutely uncorrupted. He had the 
 same merry twinkle in his eye, the same low 
 but hearty laugh, and the same frank, open 
 honesty in speech and act as he ever had. 
 He talked about his voyage, and described the 
 places he had seen and the adventures he had 
 experienced, and passed for a moment under a 
 cloud when, in answer to questions, his in- 
 formation about Methodist mission - stations 
 proved to be scanty and bald. 
 
 But the cronies noted with grim satisfaction 
 that the doctor spoke seldom and always very 
 modestly of himself. Uneasy about his igno- 
 rance of missions in the presence of experts, 
 he hastened back to his hospital days, and 
 described scenes which were most satisfactorily 
 blood-curdling. Then he said a few rather 
 lame words about being glad to be in Beckside 
 again, his confusion as he expressed himself 
 being regarded as in the highest degree be- 
 coming. 
 
 Conversation afterwards became general, and 
 at length, glancing hastily at a real gold watch 
 which made Sam Speck's mouth water, he 
 asked leave to retire, bargaining as he did so
 
 26o CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 for a permanent place in the company, which 
 was of course rapturously granted to him. 
 
 " Didn't Aw tell thi ? " shouted Jabe, smiting 
 Ben heartily between the shoulders, " th' Long- 
 worth blood breeds true, thaa sees." 
 
 " Aw thowt he'd a' bin a bit mooar of a 
 gentleman," said Sam Speck, in a tone of 
 dubious regret, and evidently forgetting his 
 former and quite opposite fears. 
 
 " Gentleman ! " shouted six voices at once, 
 and Sam was glad to vanish, and escape the 
 storm he had raised. 
 
 " Naa, Jonas," cried Jabe, as the company 
 moved towards the door, " tha knows wot 
 hymn we mun oppen aat wi' o' Sunday morn- 
 ing?" 
 
 Jonas looked a moment at the Clogger in 
 perplexity, and then replied — 
 
 " Oh ay ! But what if the preicher winna 
 have it ? " 
 
 " Have it ? He'll ha' ta have it ! " 
 
 And accordingly on the following Sabbath 
 morning, with a full attendance of the choir 
 and a quite unusual congregation, the Beck- 
 siders gave their old-time Sunday School 
 scholar a most characteristic welcome, singing 
 as he stood by his proud mother's side — 
 
 " And are we yet alive 
 And see each other's face ? " 
 
 Now, Dr. Walmsley was not an exception- 
 ally clever man. He had got the ordinary
 
 VAULTING AMBITION 261 
 
 surgeon's qualifications, and had passed his 
 examinations respectably ; and that was all. 
 But you couldn't have convinced Beckside of 
 that. The postman had shown Sam Speck a 
 letter, on the envelope of which was the doctor's 
 name with no less than seven mysterious and 
 imposing letters behind it — a fact which was 
 duly communicated to the authorities at the 
 Clog Shop, and discussed at becoming length. 
 Clever or not, young Richard was soon as 
 popular as either his mother or uncle could 
 wish. He greeted the young men who had 
 been boys with him as " owd lad," and called 
 the girls by their Christian names. 
 
 He took the chair at the " Sarmons " tea- 
 party, and the villagers laughed and cried 
 together as he spoke in simple language of 
 the days of " Auld Lang Syne." Jabe, as 
 senior superintendent, lifted his head almost out 
 of his very high shirt collar as he announced 
 that " Dr. Walmsley " had undertaken to " teich 
 th' little wenches " whilst the schoolmistress 
 was away on her holiday. 
 
 Now, the Beckside neighbourhood, even if 
 you included the whole of the Clough, embrac- 
 ing Brogden parish and Clough End, was not 
 exactly a happy hunting-ground for an aspirant 
 to medical fame. The inhabitants were mostly 
 of tough constitution, and regarded hardness 
 and stoical endurance of small ills as so indis- 
 pensable a virtue that their applications for
 
 262 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 professional assistance were comparatively rare, 
 and always reluctant. Besides this, they showed 
 a marked preference for contraband, or, at any 
 rate, irregular forms of doctoring. 
 
 Every housewife of any pretensions was 
 something of a herbalist, and every cottage 
 ceiling was adorned with numerous brown 
 paper bags containing " yarbs " supposed to be 
 potent for life or death ; and there was no 
 more important person in the village than 
 Little Eli, who lived in Shaving Lane, and 
 who, whilst doing a little occasional business 
 as a barber, maintained himself chiefly by 
 collecting, drying, and preserving herbs, and 
 retailing certain mysterious but potent salves, 
 ointments, and drops prepared therefrom. 
 
 For some years Eli had had no more con- 
 stant customer than Rachel Walmsley, who 
 prided herself on being a sort of valuable walk- 
 ing advertisement of the efficacy of Eli's cele- 
 brated " pain " drops, which she took as a cure 
 for her rheumatism. But when the doctor had 
 been at home a week or two, Eli lost his 
 largest consumer, for Rachel, anxious for her 
 son's future success, and scheming constantly 
 to promote it, suddenly realised that Eli was 
 an enemy and a stone of stumbling in her son's 
 path. 
 
 " Aw'm fain aar Rutchart's come whoam," 
 she would say, " if it's nowt but what he's done 
 fur my pains." And when the person to whom
 
 VAULTING AMBITION 263 
 
 she was speaking asked the question she in- 
 tended them to ask, she would reply — 
 
 " Hay, wench, theer's nowt loike a gradely 
 doctor efther aw. AwVe ta'n [taken] gallons 
 upo' gallons o' Eli's drops, an' wot better wur 
 Aw ? But th' fust bottle aar Rutchart gave 
 me cured me — a — a — partly — wot." And 
 then, after a pause, she would add, in an 
 impressive whisper, " They tell me as Eli's 
 toothwarch pills is nowt bud cobbler's wax." 
 
 After shaking a loose leg for several weeks, 
 the doctor began to " shape " at practising. 
 As his mother's house was small and low even 
 for Beckside, and there was no suitable one 
 empty, Jabe offered his parlour for temporary 
 use, and Long Ben painted a neat board, on 
 which was inscribed, " Walmsley, Surgeon." 
 The doctor busied himself in sending to Lon- 
 don for his remaining belongings and certain 
 necessities of his profession, and when these 
 arrived and were arranged on shelves in the 
 parlour, with just the slightest bit of ostenta- 
 tion, the habituis of the Clog Shop were 
 invited to inspect the extemporised surgery, and 
 listened, open-mouthed, as the doctor explained 
 the uses of the instruments and chemicals. 
 
 Jethro, the knocker-up, was regarded as a 
 benefactor when, after a preliminary cough or 
 two, he asked to be treated for " th' asthmatic." 
 Then a bad cut on Ben's finger was submitted, 
 and the way the doctor's deft fingers bathed
 
 264 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 and bandaged it made a profound impression. 
 Then Sam Speck wanted a large wart removed 
 from inside one of his fingers, and the howl he 
 set up when the doctor, with a comprehensive 
 wink at the company, dropped a drop of some 
 terrible fiery fluid upon it, completed their 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Very soon the young physician was getting 
 a fair amount of practice, and so, after a seri- 
 ous consultation, to which Jabe and Aunt 
 Judy were called, it was decided that a piece 
 of land opposite the chapel should be bought, 
 and Long Ben was requisitioned to prepare 
 plans ; and presently, after much profound 
 debate both at the cottage and the Clog Shop, 
 the house began to rise upon its foundations. 
 
 But Rachel realised now more clearly than 
 ever that she could never take the place of the 
 doctor's lady, and so she began to cast about to 
 get him wisely married. The doctor must get 
 " in " with the " quality," and so she thought 
 of going to Brogden Church ; but her fear of 
 Jabe and also of her son compelled her to 
 abandon that idea. Money was a sine qua non 
 she felt in this case, but she realised with dis- 
 tress that she had no connections with the 
 upper-ten in the neighbourhood, and no means 
 of establishing such connections. 
 
 Then she remembered, and was astonished 
 she had so long forgotten it, that one of the 
 ladies whose acquaintance she had made at
 
 VAULTING AMBITION 265 
 
 Duxbury on her fashion-studying expeditions 
 had two daughters, and in a few days she had 
 them over to spend the week-end with her. 
 But Richard, though gallant enough to the 
 maidens whilst they stayed, openly ridiculed 
 both their dress and their manners when they 
 had gone. 
 
 Next she thought of asking the school- 
 mistress, who on Richard's advent had gone 
 back to Bob Turner's, whether she had any 
 eligible friends whom she could invite to Beck- 
 side, and was busy maturing this idea in her 
 mind when Aunt Judy came in one day, 
 evidently laden with important news. 
 
 " Well, tha'll dew ba'at th' Duxbury dowdies 
 naa," began the visitor. 
 
 "Judy Longworth, thaa'll have a nickname 
 fur th' Almighty afoor lung ! Dowdies ! But 
 wot shall Aw dew ba'at 'em fur ? " 
 
 " Cause your Rutchart's fun' one nearer 
 whoam, and a fine seet better tew." 
 
 " Nearer whoam ? " cried Rachel, turning 
 pale. " Whativer dust meean ? " 
 
 " Well, if tha'd oppen thy een thaa'd see. 
 If it had bin a lad o' mine Aw should ne'er ha' 
 needed onybody fur t' tell me. Aw should ha' 
 fun' it aat a munth sin'," 
 
 Now, as Aunt Judy was quite as curious as 
 Rachel and almost as interested in the doctor's 
 future, but had only been in possession of her 
 great secret some ten minutes, it is to be feared
 
 266 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 that her statement was somewhat unscrupulous. 
 But if she exaggerated for effect, she certainly- 
 had her reward ; for Rachel went white to her 
 lips, put her hand to her heart, winced with a 
 sudden twinge of her old " pains," and with 
 terrible visions of Richard eloping with a 
 factory girl, she fell back into her chair, crying, 
 half in tears — 
 
 " Hay, wench, thaa's set me aw of a whacker ! 
 Speik, woman, speik ! " 
 
 " Speik ! Dust meean ta say as thaa's lived 
 i' th' same haase wi' him an' doesn't knaw as 
 he's i' luv wi' th' schoo'missis ? " 
 
 The look on Rachel's face as she slowly grasped 
 the situation baffles description. Amazed at the 
 character of the news, and confounded by the 
 fact that whilst she had been anticipating re- 
 mote dangers she had never seen the nearer 
 and more likely one, she was stunned, and sat 
 looking at Judy dumbfounded. 
 
 Judy, in calm enjoyment of the effect she 
 had produced, was just preparing to make a 
 remark as a means of setting Rachel off again, 
 when she was spared the trouble, for Miss 
 Redford herself suddenly opened the door and 
 stepped into the house, her pale face evidently 
 flushed with pleasant excitement. 
 
 Before she could speak, however, Rachel 
 started to her feet, and with red angry face 
 almost screamed out — 
 
 " Stop wheer yo' are ! Haa con yo' for
 
 VAULTING AMBITION 267 
 
 shawm ta show yo'r face here ? Pike aat o' 
 th' haase, an' niver darken that dur ageean ! 
 Yo'"— 
 
 But the schoolmistress didn't hear the rest, 
 having hastily retreated with surprise and dis- 
 tress on her face. 
 
 Aunt Judy called her back, but she sped on; 
 so in hot indignation Judy turned upon Rachel, 
 voicing the popular local opinion, and declaring 
 " Hoo's as good as yo'r Dick ony day " — the 
 " Dick " being a title never applied to the 
 doctor, except in contempt. 
 
 This only inflamed poor Rachel the more ; 
 and for some minutes the battle raged hot and 
 fierce, until at last, no match for the redoubt- 
 able Judy in word- warfare, and already con- 
 demned at the bar of her own conscience, she 
 lapsed into silence, and allowed her visitor to 
 retire with the honours of the conflict. 
 
 Now it happened that Judy was right, and 
 the doctor had asked for an interview with 
 Miss Redford, taking no pains to conceal his 
 purpose in so doing, and so, as the prospect 
 was very sweet to her, the mistress was in a 
 flutter of happy feeling when she called upon 
 Rachel. 
 
 The reception she met with rudely opened 
 her eyes, and prompted her, after a severe 
 struggle, to decline the proffered honour ; and 
 next day young Richard went back from the 
 place of rendezvous a rejected man.
 
 268 VAULTING AMBITION 
 
 The mistress knew better than most people 
 how deep and all-absorbing was Rachel's love 
 for her son, and convinced herself that it was 
 her duty to make the sacrifice for the mother's 
 sake, and so in declining the doctor she did 
 not even encourage his urgent supplication for 
 a possible hope in the future. 
 
 That night the doctor went home a miserable 
 man, and found, without particularly noticing it, 
 a still more miserable woman. Rachel knew 
 that Miss Redford would have been an ideal 
 wife ; but she had no money, and in Rachel's 
 opinion that was a fatal objection. She was 
 greatly exercised, especially as a fairly healthy 
 conscience did its duty, and the doctor grew 
 gloomier every day. 
 
 One night, after an unavailing attempt to 
 move Miss Redford, or to get any explanation 
 out of her, the doctor came home very late. 
 He looked weary, and scarcely answered 
 Rachel's inquiries, and the distressed mother 
 went to bed to toss about and cry and 
 pray. 
 
 Next day Richard went off to Duxbury, 
 and did not return until the third night. He 
 seemed more cheerful, however, and Rachel 
 began to hope the worst might be over ; when, 
 to her dismay, he began to tell her of an 
 assistant's place in Manchester that was vacant, 
 and carried with it the chance of a partnership. 
 Poor Rachel was at her wits' end, and to make
 
 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 269 
 
 things worse a neighbour brought her intelli- 
 gence that the schoolmistress had given notice 
 to leave. 
 
 The same morning Aunt Judy went to the 
 Clog Shop, muttering and shaking her head as 
 she walked. Having beckoned the Clogger 
 into the parlour, where he followed her very 
 leisurely, for it would never do to show any 
 great concern about a woman's communica- 
 tions, Judy opened her budget by saying — 
 
 " Jabe, Aw've summat on my moind." 
 
 Jabe grunted with apparent unconcern, but 
 in a few moments he was eagerly looking into 
 his sister's face as she detailed the memorable 
 interview in which she had taken a part. 
 
 When she had finished and received emphatic 
 admonition to say " nowt ta noabry," she de- 
 parted, and Jabe, after a vain attempt to 
 resume work, put off his apron, and putting 
 on his most uncompromising look, marched off 
 to interview Rachel. She was almost glad to 
 see him, and listened with chastened manner 
 to his utterances. He certainly did not spare 
 her, and when he left, the air seemed to be 
 clearer, and Rachel began to see her way. 
 
 Next day, with a subdued and wistful look 
 on her face, she made her way to the little 
 schoolhouse, timing her visit so as to arrive 
 just as the scholars were '* loosing." The mis- 
 tress, perched on a high stool at a desk, blushed 
 quickly as she caught sight of her visitor, and
 
 270 VAULTING AMBITION 
 
 Rachel, stepping timidly up, said in penitent, 
 apologetic tones — 
 
 " Will yo' speik to me ? " 
 
 For answer the mistress leaned over and 
 kissed her. 
 
 Rachel was much moved, and for a few 
 moments neither of the women spoke. Then 
 Rachel took an aimless sort of look round the 
 school, and dropping her head much as a guilty 
 schoolgirl might have done, said very softly — 
 
 " Aw ax yer pardon." 
 
 Tears came into the mistress's eyes, and 
 she bowed her head on the desk and sobbed 
 quietly. 
 
 There was another long silence, and then 
 Rachel, still standing by the high desk, 
 faltered — 
 
 " Yo' — yo' can hev him if yo' want." 
 
 The schoolmistress shook her still bowed 
 head very resolutely. 
 
 " Hay, bud yo' frtun hev him." 
 
 Another shake of the head, another sob, and 
 another painful silence. 
 
 Rachel sighed heavily, took a long troubled 
 glance round the school again, and finally said, 
 chokingly — 
 
 ^^ Aw conna have him if yo' dunna." 
 
 But still the schoolmistress did not speak, 
 and the older woman, clinging to the edge of 
 the desk, continued — 
 
 " Aw know Aw've done wrung, but if ivver
 
 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 271 
 
 yo're a hen wi' one chick yo'rsel' yo'll forgie 
 me. Hay ! dew have him, dew ! " 
 
 And as she pleaded thus, she timidly slid 
 her hand across the desk until it touched the 
 little white hand of the mistress, and patting it 
 coaxingly, she resumed — 
 
 "Aw gan his fayther up ta God twenty-two 
 ye'r sin', an' Aw'll give him up ta yo' — if — yo'll 
 hev him." 
 
 And then her head dropped upon the desk, 
 and she began to sob as if her heart would 
 break. 
 
 The schoolmistress tried to comfort her, and 
 so the ice was broken, and they talked, and 
 Rachel pleaded so urgently that when they left 
 the school Miss Redford had consented to re- 
 ceive another visit from the doctor. 
 
 Next day all Beckside knew that young 
 Richard was to marry their beloved school- 
 mistress.
 
 " The Zeal of Thine House " 
 I 
 
 " When Greek Meets Greek " 
 
 i8
 
 " The Zeal of Thine House " 
 
 " When Greek Meets Greek " 
 
 In the September following Jimmy Juddy's 
 wedding there was a change of superintendent 
 ministers in the Duxbury Circuit. It was the 
 middle of October before the new preacher 
 came to Beckside, his first visit having been 
 reserved for the " Trust Sermons " Sunday. He 
 had come from a circuit near London, and had 
 never been in Lancashire before, the only piece 
 of information retailed about him being that he 
 was a great chapel-builder. 
 
 Such descriptions of the good man as had 
 reached Beckside were strangely conflicting. 
 Some said he was a thorough gentleman and a 
 polished speaker, others that he was rather too 
 high and mighty for Lancashire. In this 
 division of circuit opinion Beckside realised 
 its responsibility, and prepared itself to give 
 the preacher a very careful hearing. 
 
 275
 
 276 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 The little he had heard of Beckside prepared 
 the preacher for amusement, and he was a little 
 nonplussed therefore when Jabe and Long Ben 
 received him in the vestry with impenetrable 
 and icy stolidity. To counterbalance this, 
 however, he was cheered when the service 
 was over by Lige, the road-mender, who, in 
 his Sunday attire, looked a very imposing 
 person, and who met him at the bottom of 
 the pulpit stairs, and exclaimed, " That's th' 
 best sarmon we'n had i' this chapil for mony a 
 ye'r." And the minister did not know that 
 Lige had expressed the same opinion of nearly 
 every sermon he had heard for many years. 
 
 It was Long Ben's turn to take the preacher 
 that day, and that worthy over the after-dinner 
 pipe imparted to his visitor as a profound 
 secret the disturbing information that he would 
 have to get a new steward in his place at 
 Christmas. Well, there was nothing remark- 
 able in that piece of news, but it was impressed 
 more than usually upon the " super's " mind by 
 the peculiar action of Ben's plump, red-cheeked 
 little wife, who happened to overhear the closing 
 words of Ben's speech. For she shut with a 
 bang the drawer into which she was putting the 
 tablecloth, shook her cap-strings quite violently, 
 and then remarked, apparently to the big brass- 
 clasped Bible on the drawer-top, and in a tone 
 between amusement and irritation — 
 
 " Hay, dear ! Owder and softer ! "
 
 ««THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 277 
 
 Now, the " super " was not quite sure in his 
 own mind whether the remark, which he only 
 imperfectly understood, applied to the good 
 lady's husband or himself, and was glancing 
 inquiringly from one to the other of them when 
 Ben invited him to have a walk up to the Clog 
 Shop. 
 
 There, more pipes were smoked, though the 
 minister was not a disciple of St, Nicotine ; and 
 when Sam Speck came in and took Ben out to 
 hunt up some negligent Sunday School scholars, 
 Jabe informed the "super " that after twenty- four 
 years' service he had made up his mind " wilta 
 shalta " [whether or not] to " cum aat at 
 Christmas." 
 
 This second resignation made the minister 
 think he smelt a rat, and so he inquired whether 
 there was anything wrong in the Church. 
 
 " Neaw," Jabe replied, " we're reet enough, 
 but Aw mean wot Aw say," and he puffed 
 away and looked a very sphinx of stony 
 mystery. 
 
 The minister was a little annoyed, and went 
 rather early to the Sunday School to inspect 
 and address it. When the children were being 
 dismissed, Nathan, the smith, drew him into the 
 vestry ; and having carefully closed the door, 
 informed him that he had been seven years 
 in the office of chapel steward, and had only 
 kept on holding the office to oblige the " supers " 
 who had been there before the present one, but
 
 J7H c:ix){; siior (MIUoniclks 
 
 ih.il iu)w tlu'ic we'll" so m.my yoiiii}; oiios 
 COinillj>^ up he ^>hl)ullI retire at (ho eiul of the 
 your, especially as he wasn't very ^ood at 
 keepiiij^ ;iecounts- ami the new minister did 
 iu)t know, of conrse, that aeeount-keeping was 
 Nathan's Iiol)I)\-, and that it was his constant 
 boast tliat he IkuI never been more than nine- 
 penee wrong in all these years. 
 
 All this was peiplexing, not to say irritating, 
 to the minister, anil when he reached his arm- 
 chaii at lun's, he hea\ed a little sigh as he sat 
 ilow n. 
 
 " \ o'le sikin;.; | sii-hin!; |, niestnr," said Mrs. 
 Hen. " Issninnnit winii!; wi' yo ? " 
 
 " No, I'm all right ; but what aie all these 
 Ijood men n'sij^ning lor ? " 
 
 " Hless )'i)' ; is that aw ? The)- .illis |alwa)'s| 
 do it when a new mon comes. Yo' nnnmo 
 lak' tiiiN' noatiee nn 'em; they'd be a fme sight 
 inooai bolheied iim yo' it yo' did." 
 
 Then she hnstled back into the kitchen, and 
 Hen comin;; in liom the garden, the minister 
 heaid hiin ealKd " lump )'ed," and told that it 
 would " s.uve him reet it he :(',>/ lurn't aat." 
 
 Now the"sup(M" was a shiewd m. in, and laid 
 these thiin^s U|i m hp. iiiuul. 
 
 Altei the evening service the minister went 
 to (he I'lo:; Shop lor Slipper, and w.is lormally 
 intioduceil to the UKinbeis ot the I'lub. 
 
 When supper was over .uul the pipes were in 
 lull work, Jalu* with a ch.n.uteristic movement
 
 "THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 279 
 
 of his short Ici^^, and an assumption (^f modesty 
 which did not at all fit him, asked — 
 
 " Well, wot thm yo' tiiink of aar cha])il, 
 Mestur ' Shui)er ' ? " And every man in the 
 company tried to imitate jal)e's expression of 
 grateful UKjdesty in antici[)alion of the only 
 answer which could possibly be given. 
 
 The new mim'ster seemed most unaccountably 
 embarrassed, and was about to give an evasive 
 reply when old Lige burst out 
 
 " Yo 'hanna [have not] .seen a prattier chapil 
 i' yo'r life, naa, han yo' ? " 
 
 The minister smiled rather oddly, and did 
 not quite succeed in keeping a contemptuous 
 tone out of his voice as he incjuired — - 
 
 " What style do you call it?" 
 
 " Style ! it's th' A i style, an' nowt else," cried 
 Lige excitedly, whilst the others held their pipes 
 at arm's length, listening intently. 
 
 The minister looked wicked, and there was 
 the ghost of a scoff on his face as he asked — 
 
 " Well, but is it classic, or Gothic, or what 
 is it ? " 
 
 " G-o-t-h-i-c," shouted Lige with lofty indig- 
 nation. " Neaw, it isn't ; it's gradely owd 
 Lancashire, that's wot it is — wi' yo'r classics ! 
 an' yo'r Gothics ! " 
 
 The minister laughed, and as he had over a 
 mile to walk to catch the circuit conveyance at 
 the fcnu-road ends, he excused himself and went 
 away.
 
 28o CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 But he left behind him a most painful im- 
 pression. For the first time in its history the 
 beauty of the Beckside tabernacle had been 
 called into question, at anyrate by implication. 
 And the offence had been committed by the 
 superintendent minister, of all persons ! 
 
 The talk in the Clog Shop parlour was long 
 and very serious ; and though Jabe kept up for 
 some time a show of defence of the ecclesiastic, 
 i*" was very half-heartedly done, and he admitted 
 to Sam Speck when the rest were gone — 
 
 " When he talked abaat his Gothics, thaa 
 could 'a knocked me daan wi' a feather." 
 
 Next day all Beckside knew that the minister 
 had scoffed at the chapel ; and the feeling of 
 indignation was quickened when Silas, the 
 chapel-keeper, made it known that when the 
 minister came to the week-night service on the 
 following Tuesday he had gone round the chapel 
 laughing at the high-backed pews, putting 
 his stick into the cracks in the gable wall, and 
 talking of ventilation until Silas said — 
 
 " Aw welly brast aat on him." 
 
 Every time the " super " came to Beckside, 
 he dropped hints about the chapel which con- 
 veyed the impression that he thought it past 
 redemption. 
 
 Then a local preacher told Sam Speck under 
 an inviolable bond of secrecy that he had heard 
 the " super " call the chapel a " ramshackle old 
 building." But as Sam always made mental
 
 '•THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 281 
 
 reservations in favour of the Club in his promises 
 of silence, this most offensive expression was 
 soon common property. 
 
 Under these circumstances, when the Annual 
 Trustees' Meeting came to be held in the follow- 
 ing January, feeling ran very high, and the 
 minister, unconscious of the sentiments of his 
 flock, very speedily made things worse. The 
 possibility of danger to their tabernacle put 
 everything else out of the heads of the Church 
 officers, and not a word was said on the question 
 of resignations. This was a time to " hold on," 
 everybody felt. 
 
 When the routine business of the meeting 
 had been got through, the minister leaned back 
 in his chair and said — 
 
 " Well now, brethren, what about this build- 
 ing ? It was all right, I dare say, seventy 
 or eighty years ago ; but it won't do now. It 
 is behind the times. What do you say to a 
 new chapel ? " 
 
 Nobody spoke, but Long Ben and Nathan 
 began to stare hard at the fire, and the rest 
 became absorbed in some mysterious matter 
 going on on the ceiling. 
 
 The circuit steward from Duxbury, who had 
 come with the minister, and was present as 
 auditor of accounts, then took up the tale. 
 
 " You know, brethren, this is a box ; simply 
 a box ; and (with a very demonstrative sniff) a 
 very musty box too."
 
 282 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 Nobody spoke. 
 
 A non-resident Trustee, who had also come 
 in the circuit conveyance, next broke in — 
 
 " You know we must move with the times, 
 friends. What was good enough for our grand- 
 fathers is not good enough for us." 
 
 Another long silence. 
 
 " Come, friends," said the " super" in the chair ; 
 " What do you think ? " 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " Will some one propose that we meet again 
 this day three weeks to take into consideration 
 the advisability of building a new chapel ? " 
 
 Another pause. 
 
 Presently Jabe rose to his feet, turned slowly 
 round, picked his hat off the peg above his 
 head, and deliberately limped down the whole 
 length of the vestry to the door amidst a dead 
 silence. 
 
 After another minute's pause Long Ben got 
 up and went through exactly the same per- 
 formance as his colleague, staring steadily 
 before him as he marched out. Then Lige 
 followed, and then Sam Speck. Only one 
 local Trustee was left ; and as the minister sat 
 back in his chair, watching the scene with 
 amazement, Nathan followed the rest. 
 
 One behind another, like a procession of 
 ducks, the Trustees made for the Clog Shop, 
 and there held long and excited debate on the 
 crisis. Everybody agreed that Jabe's mode of
 
 "THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 283 
 
 treating the matter was the correct one, and 
 did him credit. 
 
 Presently the circuit trap was heard driving 
 past. This seemed a sort of relief, and crowd- 
 ing as far as possible into the ingle-nook and 
 lighting their pipes, the conspirators discussed 
 the situation in all its bearings, whilst the fire- 
 light cast flickering shadows on their faces. 
 
 The chapel was compared to other edifices 
 of the kind in the neighbourhood, very much 
 to its advantage. Long Ben dwelt with affec- 
 tionate pride on the labours of the committee 
 who had cleaned and decorated it for Jimmy 
 Juddy's wedding, and the "super" was denounced 
 as a stuck-up cockney, a formalist, and finally 
 by Sam Speck as a Puseyite — the last epithet 
 being all the more popular because of its 
 being only faintly understood and altogether 
 inapplicable. 
 
 The minister's talk about " Gothic " was held 
 up to derision, and it was confidently prophesied 
 that " he wouldn't stop his time aat." 
 
 Presently Sam, who was in a state of mental 
 elation in consequence of his late brilliant feat 
 in nomenclature, asked from behind clouds of 
 tobacco smoke, which rendered him invisible far 
 into the chimney nook — 
 
 " Well, wot mun we do ? " 
 
 This gave the conversation a new turn, and 
 brought forth a number of extraordinary pro- 
 posals. None of them, however, met with
 
 284 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 general approbation, chiefly because of their 
 inadequacy to express the seriousness of the oc- 
 casion or the magnitude of the superintendent's 
 transgression. 
 
 At last, however, all criticism was silenced ; 
 and perfect, and, in fact, vociferous unanimity 
 was secured, by the paralysing suggestion 
 that Jabe should resign all his offices at 
 once. 
 
 Yes ! That would do. Action so astound- 
 ing would bring conviction even to the callous 
 heart of the new " super." 
 
 When it was first proposed as a bare pos- 
 sibility, Jabe, though he thought it not decent 
 to say much, let it be seen that he regarded the 
 suggestion as a truly heroic one, but when the 
 others began to discuss it as a really practicable 
 thing he was a little staggered, and left to him- 
 self would probably have been content with 
 something less drastic. 
 
 But he was the leader of the revolt — first in 
 honour and first in danger. Desperate diseases 
 require desperate remedies ; and so, though he 
 postponed final decision as long as he could, 
 the infectious confidence of his comrades stimu- 
 lated him, and he was soon trying to wear 
 modestly the honour of being the hero of the 
 hour, and every now and again was dropping 
 mysterious hints as to the startling effects of 
 their coup on the offending dignitary. 
 
 At first it was decided that the awful act
 
 «'THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 285 
 
 should take place on the " super's " next visit, an 
 idea which Jabe strongly supported ; but Sam 
 Speck and old Lige' contented that that was 
 too long to wait, the moral effect of the deed 
 depending on its following promptly on the 
 occurrences of the night. 
 
 Next day was the Duxbury market, and it 
 was decided that Jabe should send all his books 
 and other insignia of office, accompanied by a 
 formal written resignation, by Squire Taylor's 
 market cart in the early morning. 
 
 Then the company dispersed ; and Jabe, 
 when the stimulating effects of friendly pre- 
 sences was withdrawn, found it strangely difficult 
 to make up his mind about the note. Writing 
 was not the easiest thing in the world to him 
 at any time, and composition generally took 
 time, but this evening he was slower than 
 usual. A sudden thought about the dear old 
 chapel, however, and the " super's " sacrilegious 
 suggestions about it, brought the necessary 
 resolution, and after spoiling several sheets of 
 paper he finally produced the following laconic 
 epistle — 
 
 « Sir,— 
 
 " I resine all my offices. 
 
 " Your brother in Christ, 
 
 "Jabez Longworth." 
 
 During the next two or three days the Clog
 
 286 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 Shop Club sat in almost perpetual committee. 
 Highly coloured pictures of the stunning effects 
 of Jabe's resignation on the minister were painted 
 by Sam Speck and Lige, and anticipations of 
 what that dignitary would do were canvassed 
 all day long by those who came and went from 
 the ingle-nook. 
 
 Sam Speck expressed an intense desire to 
 see the minister arrive " wi' his tail between his 
 legs," as he phrased it ; and, as the others 
 shared his curiosity, and, with the exception 
 of I.ige, were their own masters, very little 
 work was done for some days. 
 
 But the " super " gave no sign. 
 
 The Trustees' Meeting had been held on a 
 Monday, and when Friday arrived and neither 
 letter nor message had been received, and Jabe's 
 books were still at Duxbury, everybody became 
 very serious, and Jabe was evidently labouring 
 under deep anxiety. It was concluded at the 
 Clog Shop on Saturday night that the " super " 
 would be sending the books back together with 
 a note by the local preacher who was coming 
 on the morrow. 
 
 When Sam suggested that a note would not 
 do, and that in an affair of such magnitude 
 nothing but a visit in person would suffice, he 
 was somewhat seriously reproved by his elders, 
 and reminded of his disqualification for sober 
 counsels on the score of juvenility. 
 
 The preacher arrived on Sunday morning,
 
 "THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 287 
 
 and was met by the stewards in the usual way , 
 and when it was clear that he had brought 
 neither books nor message, Long Ben looked 
 anxiously at Jabe, who wheeled round in the 
 vestry and limped out into a little back lane, 
 and was absent from service for the first time 
 for many years. 
 
 This was probably as dark a day as the old 
 Clogger had ever spent, and when the usual 
 Sunday night deliberations in the parlour pro- 
 duced not a single ray of light, Jabe went to 
 bed to spend a sleepless night. 
 
 The next day he was snappish and bitterly 
 sarcastic. Customers did their business in the 
 fewest possible words and departed ; and the 
 ingle-nook conspirators endured Jabe's temper 
 very meekly, regarding it as a special and 
 richly deserved judgment on themselves. 
 
 By Wednesday Jabe's crustiness had gone, 
 however, and the dogger's aiders and abettors 
 in rebellion noted with consternation that he 
 had become excessively but sorrowfully amiable. 
 A patient, resigned, but terribly sad look sat on 
 his face. He sighed heavily every few minutes, 
 and stuck to his work with a sort of dull des- 
 peration. 
 
 On Thursday he positively refused to smoke ; 
 and on Friday, whilst he still sat on his bench, 
 it was observed that he was constantly gazing 
 through the window with a far-away look of 
 melancholy on his face.
 
 288 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 Late on Friday he and Long Ben sat up in 
 deep and secret conclave, and before daylight 
 next morning Jabe had started to see the 
 " super " at Duxbury. 
 
 Now, the minister was a clever man, and 
 prided himself on his knowledge of human 
 nature. His silence on the question that so 
 greatly agitated the Beckside Trustees was the 
 silence of policy, and a smile of triumph crossed 
 his face as Jabe was ushered into his study on 
 Saturday morning. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Jabez. Glad to see 
 you ! Sit down, sir ! " 
 
 But Jabe, with a grave, sad face, remained 
 standing, and overlooking the minister's out- 
 stretched hand, and too deeply troubled to 
 notice his ill-concealed look of victory, he said — 
 
 " Mestur ' Shuper,' Aw've done wrung," 
 
 " Wrong, Mr. Jabez ? I hope not ! In what 
 way ? " 
 
 " Aw've left a good shop [situation] and a 
 grand Mestur, just because one of my work- 
 mates didn't agree wi' me." 
 
 " I don't understand you." 
 
 " Dunno yo' ? Well th' Lord's let me work 
 for Him till Aw thowt He couldn't dew ba'at 
 me, but He's shown me as He could. He can 
 dew better ba'at me nor Aw con dew ba'at 
 Him, a fine sight." 
 
 The minister began to have misgivings as to 
 his skill in judging character.
 
 •'THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 289 
 
 " Is it about the chapel ? " he inquired gently. 
 
 " Neaw. It's abaat them books as Aw sent 
 back. Aw've come ta humble mysel' an' ta 
 ax for t'books back, an' if my Heavenly Father 
 'ull forgive me this time aw th' * supers ' i' 
 Methodism shanna drive me fro' my pooast 
 ageean." 
 
 The minister began to feel small. 
 
 " Yd' see, Mestur, yo'rs is a changin' life. 
 YoVe seen hundreds o' chapels i' yo'r time, an' 
 if God spares yo' yo'll see hundreds mooar. But 
 us at Beckside yond' hev' ony wun little Bethil 
 ta think abaat, an' when yo'n been ta'n to a 
 place as little childer, an' ne'er been noa wheer 
 else mitch, an' when yo'n getten yo'r fost 
 glimpse o' Calvary theer, an' aw th' peeps into 
 th' New Jerusalem yo'n iver hed, why yo' luv' 
 that spot, yo' know, an' theer's sum on us i' 
 Beckside as luvs ivery stooan there is i' th' 
 building, an' we'd dee for it if we mud" (must). 
 
 " Mr. Jabez," interrupted the minister, grip- 
 ping the dogger's hard hand, whilst his eyes 
 gleamed with unfamiliar tears, " Forgive me, 
 sir, forgive me ! Would to God I loved Him 
 and His cause as you do. I honour you from 
 my heart," 
 
 And the minister asked Jabe to pray with 
 him as a son would ask a father. And then 
 with wet eyes he went out and told his wife, 
 and brought her in to see his latest teacher. 
 Then they both asked Jabe to stay to dinner, 
 
 19
 
 290 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 and the " super " sent for the circuit conveyance, 
 and drove Jabe back to Beckside, charging him 
 on the way to keep silence about his visit. 
 
 When they reached the Clog Shop he went 
 and saw Long Ben and Nathan, and it soon 
 became known that all was well again, the 
 minister cleverly contriving that it should be 
 understood that Jabe had conquered him — as 
 indeed he had.
 
 " The Zeal of Thine House " 
 II 
 
 ** To Be, or Not to Be " 
 
 291
 
 " The Zeal of Thine House " 
 II 
 
 " To Be, or Not to Be " 
 
 The new " super," whose attack on the Beckside 
 chapel has been recorded, was too wise a man 
 to push his plans in the face of such determined 
 opposition, and consequently abandoned the 
 whole project ; and it is only consistent with 
 the nature of things that, when the minister had 
 finally given up the idea, those who had so 
 resolutely resisted began to see something in it. 
 
 Jabe had poured scorn on the suggestion that 
 the pews were not altogether what they ought 
 to be, but somehow they never either looked or 
 felt quite as cosy afterwards, and he caught 
 himself very nearly admitting that they were 
 deep and stiff-backed. 
 
 Long Ben, who had been so proud of the 
 work of the painting and decorating committee 
 which " fettled up" the chapel for Jimmy Juddy's 
 wedding, presently became troubled with inward
 
 294 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 doubts as to whether the result justified the 
 effort, and Sam Speck had to be severely re- 
 proved for expressing the treasonable wish that 
 the chapel didn't look quite so much like the 
 mill engine-house. 
 
 In proportion, however, as these doubts took 
 root in their minds, each became more and more 
 demonstrative in repelling attacks on the old 
 building, and more and more emphatic in prais- 
 ing its many excellences. At the same time 
 each man was conscious of an uneasy suspicion 
 of the loyalty of his friends in the matter. 
 
 To have heard the conversation as they stood 
 outside and watched Silas lock up on Sunday 
 evening, you would have thought that their 
 admiration of the edifice was higher than ever; 
 for whilst before the "super's" ill-starred proposal 
 the chapel came in for occasional commendation 
 or defence, just as circumstances required, now 
 there scarcely ever passed a Sunday night but, 
 on their way to the Clog Shop parlour or home, 
 some one of the officials would be sure to turn 
 round just where he could get a last glimpse 
 of the building and say — 
 
 " Ther' isn't a cumfurtabler little chapil for 
 twenty mile raand." 
 
 All the same, a slow progress of disintegration 
 was going on in the minds of these authorities, 
 a process of which this excessive admiration was 
 but too certain a sign. The fact was the Beck- 
 sidcrs had a great respect for the superintendent
 
 ♦'THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 295 
 
 minister, whoever he might be, and the present 
 one — the new chapel suggestion apart — was so 
 popular with them all that unconsciously they 
 had been deeply impressed by his opinion. The 
 way also in which he had borne himself when 
 opposed, and the good sense he had displayed 
 in not resenting opposition, commended him 
 strongly to their judgments, and one or two of 
 them had gone so far as to secretly regret the 
 part they had played in his recent defeat. 
 
 Not that anyone ever spoke of the matter. 
 The "super" regarded the question as closed, and 
 apparently the officials did the same, but they 
 were all nervously afraid of some one suddenly 
 springing the question upon them again, and thus 
 compelling them to avow their modified views. 
 
 The lesser lights were particularly uncertain 
 about Jabe. Judged by his utterances, there 
 wasn't the slightest chance of a new chapel 
 whilst he lived, but they were not quite sure, 
 some of them, that his loud protestations were 
 not a trifle overdone, and they were strengthened 
 in their suspicions by the dogger's very apparent 
 admiration of the " super." 
 
 These feelings were deepened by the fact 
 that Jabe announced to them, one evening, that 
 the " super " had been an architect before he 
 entered the ministry, and had built at least a 
 score places of worship in the course of his 
 public life. Evidently Jabe and the preacher 
 had been talking of chapel-building.
 
 296 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 One Sunday night a stray remark by that 
 rash young man, Dr. Walmsley, gave Long Ben 
 a long-looked-for opportunity, and five men 
 stopped in the middle of long pulls at their 
 pipes, and held their breaths, as Ben alluded 
 for the first time openly to the forbidden subject 
 in the presence of the minister. 
 
 But the " super " knew his men by this time, 
 and did not rise to the bait, and every listening 
 smoker breathed a sigh of relief. 
 
 When he had gone, and the company had 
 settled down to the regular Sunday evening 
 topic, and Lige had finished a highly-flattering 
 criticism of the sermon, Jabe once more brought 
 all talk to a standstill. For, tilting back in his 
 chair and balancing it on its back legs, in 
 sublime indifference to the subject under dis- 
 cussion, he said, apparently to a half-consumed 
 ham hanging on the joist near the door — 
 
 "If ever we dew have a new chapil i' Beck- 
 side, yon's th' mon as Aw should loike ta 
 build it." 
 
 There was a long silence. Not a word was 
 said in reply, and when the conversation was 
 resumed it was on the old topic of the evening's 
 sermon. All the same every man went away 
 that night with the feeling that the new chapel 
 was now at anyrate a possibility. 
 
 Next week was the Circuit Quarterly Meet- 
 ing, and as usual, Jabe, Long Ben, Nathan, and 
 Sam attended as the representatives of Beckside.
 
 '«THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 297 
 
 Just before the meeting closed, the " super," with 
 a palpably gratified air, announced that a very 
 interesting communication was about to be 
 made to the meeting, and called upon Brother 
 Ramsden, of Clough End. 
 
 This gentleman, who was to Clough End 
 what Jabe was to Beckslde, and who had been, 
 for him, unusually quiet all evening, with a look 
 of immense importance, rose at the call of the 
 chairman, and after justifying his reputation 
 for jocularity by a number of more or less 
 appropriate witticisms, formally asked the per- 
 mission of the meeting to build a new chapel 
 at Clough End. 
 
 " An' Aw whop (hope)," he concluded, " as 
 it 'ull stir aar Beckside friends up ta get aat o' 
 yond' owd barn o' theirs." 
 
 All eyes were at once turned towards the 
 Clogger and his friends, but Jabe closed his 
 mouth very tightly, pursed his lips, and looked 
 across the room into vacancy ; and the others 
 feeling, as Sam Speck afterwards admitted, " as 
 if cowd wayter wur runnin' daan my back," 
 shot glances of quick inquiry at Jabe, and 
 imitated his look of stern gravity, as if in re- 
 buke of the frivolity of the speech to which 
 they had just listened. 
 
 The Clough Enders, who had to pass through 
 Beckside on their way home, got into the coach 
 with the Clogger and his friends, and were, of 
 course, full of their new scheme. Soon they
 
 298 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 drew Long Ben — as a practical man — into the 
 discussion of a draft plan of the proposed struc- 
 ture which they had brought with them. 
 
 This was too much for Sam and Nathan, 
 whose curiosity proved stronger than their 
 dignity, but Jabe with folded arms sat bolt 
 upright in the far corner of the vehicle, not 
 deigning to notice the plans or show the 
 slightest interest in the conversation. 
 
 There was always a full attendance round 
 the Clog Shop fire on the evening of the 
 Quarterly Meeting, and on this occasion every 
 possible seat was occupied. Jimmy Juddy, 
 Sniggy Parkin, the Doctor, and even retiring 
 Ned Royle, being there to hear the news. 
 
 The air with which the Clogger walked 
 through the shop into the parlour to change 
 his Sunday coat announced more plainly than 
 words that there was something unusual to tell, 
 and the company present was preparing itself 
 for a feast of succulent intelligence and dis- 
 cussion when Sam Speck, who had stayed 
 behind to say " Good neet " to the Clough 
 Enders, suddenly burst into the shop and spoilt 
 all by blurting out in excited eagerness — 
 
 " Chaps ! th' Clough Enders is goin' ta hev' 
 a new chapil." 
 
 Instead of the sensation he expected Sam 
 received a decided snub. The news he brought 
 was unwelcome, but his manner of serving it 
 up was inexcusable. Matters of this kind were
 
 *«THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 299 
 
 not to be flung at them as if they were mere 
 items of ordinary gossip, and so instead of 
 looking at each other in amazement, as Sam 
 had expected, they carefully avoided catching 
 each other's eyes, and sat looking into the fire 
 with a decidedly non-committal look on their 
 faces. 
 
 At this moment Jabe reappeared, and every- 
 body felt that now the subject would receive 
 becoming treatment. But first the Clogger held 
 a consultation with his apprentice on some 
 matter of business, and the company was 
 divided between impatience to hear his story 
 and admiration of his artistic sang f void. 
 
 Then he sauntered idly to his seat by the 
 fire, and commenced to charge his pipe, at- 
 tempting as he did so to start a discussion on 
 the probable age of the vehicle in which he had 
 just travelled. But nobody assisted him, though 
 all admired his magnificent self-possession. 
 
 The pipe duly lighted, he at length com- 
 menced his regular description of the events of 
 the day. But he was most aggravatingly 
 deliberate. Not a detail was omitted, though 
 he must have seen with what impatience his 
 needless elaboration was received. 
 
 Then he diverged into a discussion with Sam 
 Speck as to whether the average contribution 
 per member from Brogden had been is. 4^d. 
 or IS. S^d., and when the latter figure was 
 eventually accepted he branched off, for the
 
 300 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 special edification of Sniggy, into an ex- 
 haustive description of the financial system of 
 averages which obtained in the circuit. 
 
 The company listened with growing but 
 carefully-concealed impatience to this digres- 
 sion, marvelling uncharitably at Sniggy's lack 
 of comprehension, and all looked relieved and 
 hopeful when, with a long-drawn " Well," Jabe 
 prepared to resume the main current of his 
 story. 
 
 But just at that moment his pipe went out, 
 and every man in the company watched with 
 painful interest as, after trying three matches, 
 he finally discovered that the fuel was ex- 
 hausted, and proceeded with exasperating de- 
 liberateness to refill and relight it. 
 
 As a rule the members of the Club were 
 proud of the prodigious memory of their chief, 
 but for once they could have wished it had been 
 a little less tenacious and precise, for the 
 speeches of the officials seemed long and tedious 
 affairs indeed as Jabe reported them. 
 
 At last, however, the statement for which 
 every one was vvaiting with a burning impatience 
 could no longer be withheld, and so propping 
 himself against the shoulder of the ingle-nook, 
 and drawing it out as if it were a hardship to 
 have to give such an utterly unimportant detail, 
 he said — 
 
 " An' then Hallelujah Tommy said summat 
 abaat a new chapil at Clough End. But Aw
 
 "THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 301 
 
 ne'er tak's mitch heed ta wot that gaumless 
 says." 
 
 But nobody was deceived by this painful pre- 
 tence of indifference, and in a moment or two 
 Sam set every tongue wagging, and got rid 
 himself of much pent-up excitement by crying — 
 
 " Ay ! an' it's ta hev' churchified windows, an' 
 a pinnicle." 
 
 Soon the discussion waxed hot, the interest 
 being intensified by the fact that though they 
 were only discussing the Clough End chapel, 
 a far more important question was felt to be in 
 the background. 
 
 By long-established custom the Club sat an 
 hour longer than usual on Quarterly Meeting 
 nights ; but though it was late when they began 
 to separate. Long Ben, often one of the first to 
 leave, lingered behind, and when he and the 
 Clogger were alone and had sat for some 
 minutes silently looking at the dying chip 
 embers in the fire, he turned to Jabe and said, 
 with an anxious sigh, — 
 
 " Aw'm feart wee'st ha' ta give in, lad." 
 
 And the sigh which accompanied the dog- 
 ger's reluctant " Ay " was longer drawn and 
 deeper than Ben's. 
 
 It was customary in the week of the Quar- 
 terly Meeting to hold a united fellowship meet- 
 ing instead of the ordinary classes, and at such 
 gatherings Silas, the chapel-keeper, was generally 
 a prominent figure. But the night after the
 
 302 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 events just described Silas was dumb, and 
 neither long pauses nor nods, nor even nudges, 
 had any effect. 
 
 " Th' dumb divil's getten howd of sum folk," 
 said Jabe significantly, as he, Ben, and Silas 
 were passing along the side of the chapel home- 
 wards. But Silas only held his sharp, sallow 
 face a little higher, and gazed sideways at the 
 rising moon. 
 
 As they were turning the corner to the front 
 of the chapel, however, Jabe pulled up, and 
 whipping round at Silas in the rear, he de- 
 manded sternly — 
 
 " Wot's up wi' thee ? " 
 
 " Up I " shouted Silas, a look of fierce aggres- 
 siveness springing into his face ; " Up ! " he 
 repeated, and seizing his companions by the 
 arms he puUj^d them back into the little grave^ 
 yard and cried — 
 
 " We're goin' t' have a new chapil, Aw ye'r." 
 
 " Well ! wot if we are ? " demanded Jabe. 
 
 " Well, if there's a new chapil ther'll be a — 
 a," and Silas's voice became tremulant, " there'll 
 be a new chapil-keeper, that's aw." 
 
 The two leaders looked Silas over slowly 
 from head to foot with a mournfully curious 
 look. 
 
 " Dunna meyther thysel', lad," said Ben 
 soothingly, as he put his hand gently on Silas' 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Meyther mysel' ! " cried the chapel-keeper
 
 "THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 303 
 
 almost in a scream, and springing away from 
 Ben's touch, " Aw've ta'n cur of this chapil for 
 welly forty ye'r, an' Aw'm th' poorest mon 
 among yo', but Aw've ne'er ta'n a brass fardin 
 o' wages aw th' toime. Wot have Aw done 
 that fur ? Wot have Aw lived i' th' little damp 
 chapil-haase fur aw this toime ? " 
 
 The leaders moved uncomfortably, and had a 
 guilty, self-reproachful look. 
 
 " Dunna, Silas ! dunna, lad ! " said Ben, in a 
 mournful, coaxing tone. 
 
 " Dunna ! " shouted the agitated apparitor, 
 and, pointing to a grave close under the 
 chapel wall, he continued in high, protesting 
 tones — 
 
 " Sithee, my owd mother lies theer, an' aar 
 Kitty, an' little Laban, an' yond' " — pointing 
 across towards the boundary wall — " yond' lies 
 my own bonny Grace an' her little un. An'," 
 he continued, wheeling round, " here's thy 
 fayther, Jabe, as poo'ed mi aat o' th' Beck 
 when Aw were draandin', and theer's owd 
 Juddy, as poo'ed me aat o' the horrible pit an' 
 the miry clay. Ay," he went on, standing up 
 and wildly waving his hands around him, 
 " they're aw here. An' Aw live wi' 'em, an' 
 they live wi' me. An' when Aw feels looan- 
 some an' daan i' th' maath. Aw comes aat here 
 an' sits me daan an' sings aw by mysel' — 
 
 ' Come, let us jine our friends above 
 That hev obtained the prize.'
 
 304 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 An' Aw'st ne'er leave 'em. Aw'st ne'er leave 
 'em till Aw goa an' see 'em gradely." 
 
 And, out of breath with his exertion and 
 excitement, the poor chapel-keeper sank back 
 and propped himself against a gravestone. 
 
 By this time Ben was in tears, and Jabe, 
 trying ineffectually to swallow something, 
 looked first at one grave Silas had pointed 
 out, and then at another, with a miserable 
 convicted look on his face and certain strange 
 twitches about his mouth. 
 
 " We met poo' it daan, an' rebuild it, thaa 
 knaws," suggested Ben hesitatingly, from 
 behind his pocket-handkerchief. 
 
 " Ay 1 for sure," chimed in Jabe. 
 
 " Poo' it daan ! " cried Silas, in new agita- 
 tion ; " that's woss nor aw. Sithee, Jabe, 
 Aw'll show thee summat as thaa's ne'er seen 
 afoor. Aw nobbut fun it aat mysel' t'other 
 day." 
 
 And, taking Jabe by the elbow, he led him 
 forward to where, close to the ground, in a dark 
 corner all green and mouldy, was a stone in 
 the wall. Then he plucked a handful of grass 
 and briskly rubbed the face of the stone, and 
 then, striking a match and holding it near the 
 stone, he made Jabe kneel down and examine 
 it, pointing as he did so to certain indistinct 
 marks on the face of the stone. 
 
 " Con ta read it ? " he queried eagerly, but Jabe 
 did not answer ; but, kneeling on the grass, he
 
 ''THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 305 
 
 kept looking carefully at the scratches until 
 they slowly formed themselves into a scrawling 
 legend, evidently made by the point of some 
 sharp instrument — 
 
 Jabe continued to scrutinise the inscription, 
 which was very faint, and had evidently been 
 hastily done, until Ben came and knelt at his 
 side and assisted in the work of decipherment. 
 
 " It's reet," said Silas, when at length they 
 rose to their feet. " It's just loike his writing i' 
 the burrying-book." 
 
 The three men stood looking down at the 
 stone, and presently Silas resumed — 
 
 " Naa, that's it. Thy fayther 'ud nobbut be 
 a lad when he put that in — just convarted, Aw 
 reacon, an' thaa talks o' poo'in it daan, does 
 ta?" 
 
 " An' " — throwing open a window as he spoke 
 — " yon's th' owd poopit as Adam Clarke 
 preached in, an' Sammy Bradburn. Aw reacon 
 thaa'll poo' that daan. An' yond's th' penitent- 
 form [communion-rail], wheer thee an' me, an' 
 sum 'at's up aboon, fan peace i' th' Great 
 Revival. Thaa'll be poo'in' that daan, wilta ?
 
 3o6 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 Well, yo' con dew as you'n a mind, but t'owd 
 Book says, ' Thy servants shall take pleasure in 
 her stones and favour the dust thereof.' An' 
 Aw dew ! Aw dew ! " 
 
 And, leaning his dark face against the old 
 wall caressingly, as a child to its parent, he 
 concluded — 
 
 " Aw love every stoaan in it, ay, an' th' varry 
 dust we're treidin' on." 
 
 Deeply moved by what they had heard, the 
 two leaders somewhat hastily bade Silas " Good 
 neet," and as they were going down the " broo " 
 each turned round and took a long, lingering 
 look at the edifice they had just been discussing, 
 sighing heavily the while ; and that same week, 
 without any spoken word having been used, but 
 by such processes as were perfectly understood 
 amongst them, it penetrated into the minds of 
 the Beckside Methodists that whatever else was 
 done there would be no new chapel.
 
 '' The Zeal of Thine House " 
 
 HI 
 
 "Of His Necessity" 
 
 307
 
 " The Zeal of Thine House " 
 III 
 
 " Of His Necessity " 
 
 Long Ben, Jabe, and the " super," with their 
 heads close together, were bending over certain 
 hasty lead-pencil drawings, engrossed in earnest 
 conversation. 
 
 " Howd ! howd," cried the Clogger, interrupt- 
 ing the minister, " Yo' munna talk like that. 
 Th' on'y chance o' gerrin' it through 'ull be fur 
 t' keep them names aat. If yo' talken abaat 
 Roman ex's [esques] and Gothics ta aar chaps 
 yo'll ruin th' job, an' wee'st ha' wark enew as 
 it is." 
 
 " Aw think we'd better let th' owd winders a' 
 be," chimed in Ben ; " bud yo' con mak' a fancy 
 frunt if yo'n a moind. On'y dooan't caw it by 
 ony fancy names." 
 
 " Very good," said the " super," with a sigh of 
 disappointment. " I'll do the best I can, and 
 you must pave the way for me."
 
 3IO CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 " An' ther' mun be noa steeples, nur pinnacles, 
 nur hangels' yeds, nur Chineese wark abaat it," 
 persisted Jabe. And, as the " super " nodded 
 slowly, Ben gently added, " An' we mun ha' 
 noa thrutchin, an' wilta-shalta wark. If they 
 winna they winna, and we ar'na' fur t' hurt even 
 ' one o' these little ones.' " And the tremolo 
 cadence of anxiety in the carpenter's voice dis- 
 armed a momentary irritation in the minister's 
 mind. 
 
 This conversation took place on a Sunday 
 afternoon. The two officials having made up 
 their minds that, though the old building must 
 be preserved, some heed must be paid to the 
 wishes of those who pressed for improvement, 
 had requested an interview with their ecclesi- 
 astical chief, of which the words recorded above 
 were the closing parts. 
 
 They had explained to him the exact 
 situation, and after a stealthy visit to the 
 chapel ostensibly to address the scholars, but 
 really to survey the premises, the *' super " had 
 hastily sketched a plan which had the tentative 
 support of his subordinates, the understanding 
 being that he was to prepare detailed drawings 
 and submit the whole scheme to a meeting of 
 trustees, Jabe and Ben undertaking to prepare 
 the way as best they could. 
 
 Now, since the memorable scene in the 
 chapel-yard, Silas, only an occasional visitor 
 before, had taken to attending regularly at the
 
 "THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 311 
 
 Clog Shop, evidently apprehensive lest, in his 
 absence, some conspiracy might be hatching 
 for the injury of his beloved chapel. And as 
 Sam Speck had recently taken to openly ad- 
 vocating a new building, thereby manifesting 
 a dangerous independence of judgment, the 
 Clog Shop confabulations often developed into 
 stand-up forensic fights between the two, the 
 other members of the party only making 
 occasional contributions to the debates. 
 
 On the Sunday night in question, the dis- 
 cussion on the " super's " sermon lasted rather 
 longer than usual, a passing reference of his 
 to Socinianism having produced itching curio- 
 sity on the part of the irresponsibles, and 
 evasion and impenetrable mystery on the 
 part of those who were generally recognised as 
 authorities. 
 
 Presently, however. Long Ben, who was 
 generally supposed to dislike the subject of 
 the new chapel as provocative of strong words 
 and stronger emotions, actually introduced the 
 question himself. 
 
 Sam Speck, astonished at this manoeuvre, 
 and hoping, though with misgivings, that he 
 had made a convert, at once launched out in 
 commendation of the enterprise and pluck of 
 the Clough Enders, and the grandeur of their 
 new building, at least as far as its plans were 
 concerned. 
 
 Of course Silas, the chapel-keeper, at once
 
 312 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 accepted the challenge, and was soon giving 
 Sam a Roland for his Oliver. 
 
 To the surprise of everybody, Long Ben and 
 Jabe immediately took sides with Silas, and 
 out-Heroded Herod in their denunciation of 
 any idea of erecting a new sanctuary. 
 
 Sam was dumbfounded, and Silas, whose 
 only reliable supporters hitherto had been Lige 
 and Jethro, rejoiced over the new converts with 
 many a quiet chuckle. Sam looked crestfallen, 
 and Jonas Tatlock and Nathan the smith, his 
 chief supporters, frowned and looked at each 
 other in sympathetic resentment. 
 
 Presently Long Ben, contemplating with 
 peculiar steadiness the candle on the table, 
 and with the most guileless expression of 
 countenance he could command, remarked — 
 
 " Th' Independents hez a gradely nice chapil 
 at th' Hawpenny Gate." 
 
 " Ay," added Jabe reflectively, as if the idea 
 were perfectly new to him, " specially sin' it 
 wur rebuilt." 
 
 As nobody followed this subtle lead, Ben 
 resumed — 
 
 " Le'ss see ; when wur it fettlet up ? " 
 
 " Nine ye'r sin', cum th' frost of February," 
 said Lige, who prided himself on chronology. 
 
 Nobody, however, seemed to take any par- 
 ticular interest in the matter, for the Halfpenny 
 Gate was four miles away, and the chapel 
 only an Independent one, and Jethro was just
 
 "THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 313 
 
 beginning to hum a tune preparatory to start- 
 ing a hymn, singing being not an uncommon 
 practice when topics of interest were scarce, 
 when Jabe observed — 
 
 " It wur th' poorest chapil i' th' country- 
 side afoor it wur enlarged." 
 
 " Soa it wur, lad," replied Ben, apparently 
 only just remembering the fact, and then, after 
 another pause, he went on — 
 
 " Aw'm nor i' favour of new patches upo* 
 owd cloas as a general thing, but it's aw reet 
 i' sum cases, and saves boath brass an* fawin* 
 aat." 
 
 Now, Sam Speck, indignant at the unusu- 
 ally emphatic manner in which the recognised 
 heads had opposed his new building scheme, 
 was giving but a sulky and indifferent ear to 
 the conversation, but happening to lift his head 
 at this moment, he caught a gleam in Ben's 
 eye which came as a revelation to him, and 
 catching at the suggestion hidden under Ben's 
 last remark, he cried out suddenly — 
 
 " That's it ! By th' mon, that's it ! Chaps, 
 we'll enlarge th' owd 'un 1 " 
 
 And those crafty schemers, Jabe and Ben, 
 affected to consider this as a totally new idea. 
 They tilted back their chairs and studied the 
 joists intently, and then slowly shook their 
 heads, as if to say that they thought very 
 little of the scheme, and, at anyrate, saw 
 serious difficulties.
 
 314 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 And their attitude had exactly the effect 
 they expected. Gentle opposition only wedded 
 Sam the faster to his idea, and made him the 
 more fruitful of arguments in favour of it. 
 
 Silas also — a much more serious difficulty 
 than Sam — was deceived by the manoeuvre, 
 and, as the only person present who knew the 
 exact measurements, supplied details which 
 strongly confirmed Sam's proposal, and very 
 soon found himself getting angry at the incon- 
 vinceableness of the arch-conspirators. 
 
 At length, after long argument, Jabe, in 
 dubious, hesitant tones, admitted that " Ther' 
 met be summat in it," and with that the 
 assembly dissolved, Sam full of the double 
 glory of invention and conquest in argument, 
 and the two stewards demurely content. 
 
 The following Friday the " super " held the 
 Trustees' Meeting and expounded his scheme. 
 The old building was to be left intact, except 
 that the front was to be taken out and brought 
 forward, thus giving about forty extra sittings 
 in the chapel. The vestry at the back was to 
 be pulled down and a schoolroom erected in 
 its place. The old woodwork of the chapel 
 was to be removed into the school, but the 
 pulpit and communion-rail were to be left 
 intact ; and when, after describing his scheme 
 in outline, the *' super " unfolded a number of 
 beautifully drawn and coloured plans (" as good 
 as picters," according to Sam Speck), and
 
 '«THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 315 
 
 invited examination, seven self-consciously 
 important men drew up to the table and 
 proceeded to scrutinise the designs with as 
 much of the air of experts as they could 
 manage to put on. They hung long and 
 lovingly over the " picters," and when the 
 " super " returned that night to Duxbury he 
 had full authority to proceed, and left behind 
 him a body of men who spent the rest of the 
 evening marvelling at the extent and versatility 
 of his gifts. 
 
 A day or two later completed plans were 
 sent, and lay on the Clog Shop counter for 
 public inspection, and for the next fortnight 
 Beckside Methodism sat in almost perpetual 
 committee over these latest examples of the 
 minister's skill. By the end of that time, there 
 was scarcely a person concerned even remotely 
 in the matter who had not given judgment in 
 favour of the scheme. There was one excep- 
 tion, however, and though it would ordinarily 
 have been regarded as of little moment, yet 
 after what had passed in the graveyard, Jabe 
 and Ben were honestly distressed at the 
 ominous absence of Silas. 
 
 The " super " was coming over to a public 
 meeting for the purpose of raising funds on the 
 Friday, and Wednesday night had arrived, but 
 the chapel-keeper had given no sign. Glowing 
 descriptions of the new designs had been given 
 him by those who knew nothing of what had
 
 3i6 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 occurred between him and the leaders. Twice, 
 after putting the plans in a conspicuous place 
 on the counter, Jabe had sent for Silas on some 
 invented business in order to draw him into a 
 criticism of the scheme, but without success, 
 and to have directly broached the question 
 would have been to court failure. 
 
 Thursday, the day before the great meeting, 
 arrived, and no satisfactory evidence was forth- 
 coming as to Silas's attitude. In the quietest 
 part of the afternoon of that day, however, 
 whilst Jabe was busy upon a new pair of clogs, 
 Silas suddenly presented himself. He wanted 
 a clog-iron on, and he wanted it on in a great 
 hurry, and, catching sight out of the corner of 
 his eye of the plans, he turned his face toward 
 the opposite wall, and became intensely inter- 
 ested in a quite venerable advertisement of 
 patent blacking. 
 
 Jabe took most extraordinary pains with that 
 clog-iron, and succeeded in making the opera- 
 tion last quite a long time. In the meantime, 
 Silas, affecting the most restless impatience, 
 fidgeted every moment about the shortness of 
 time. 
 
 Presently Jabe began dropping hints, and 
 putting leading questions, but Silas would not 
 be caught, and when the iron had been replaced, 
 and another one that Jabe discovered to be 
 " loosening " had been made secure, and the 
 repairing process could no longer be prolonged,
 
 "THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 317 
 
 he handed back the clog to its owner with a 
 I petulant jerk. 
 
 Silas, on his side, now that the opportunity 
 of departure was provided, seemed suddenly to 
 I have been seized with a fit of lingering, and 
 
 manifested a reluctance to depart strangely 
 inconsistent with his former feverish impa- 
 tience. 
 
 At this moment a new idea occurred to Jabe, 
 and, catching sight of a pair of clogs, evidently 
 waiting to be taken home, he cried out — 
 
 " Hay, dear ! that lump-yed of a Isaac's goan 
 to his tay ba'at takkin' Jethro's clugs wi' him. 
 Sit thi daan, Silas, an' moind th' shop woll Aw 
 nip daan an' tak' em. Th' owd lad conna cum 
 aat till he gets 'em." 
 
 Silas, forgetting his previous haste, complied 
 with ill-disguised alacrity, and almost before 
 Jabe had closed the shop-door, he was bending 
 eagerly over the erstwhile invisible plans. He 
 had a good long look at them, for Jabe was an 
 unconscionable time away, and when he did 
 return he found the plans apparently as he had 
 left them, and Silas still engrossed in the subject 
 of patent blacking. 
 
 Jabe attempted to draw the chapel-keeper 
 into conversation again, but without success. 
 Silas remembered his forgotten haste, and de- 
 parted with demonstrations of impatience, 
 leaving the Clogger wrestling with a sense of 
 defeat.
 
 3i8 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 In the evening Silas joined the company 
 round the fire, and appeared very attentive 
 when anything referring to the renovation 
 scheme was introduced ; and, when he had 
 departed, Ben nodded his head sagaciously 
 across the fireplace at his friend, and re- 
 marked — 
 
 " He's cumin' raand nicely, tha sees." 
 
 The following night the great meeting was 
 to be held. The " super " was to take the 
 chair, and for some days consultations had 
 been held, challenges given, and thinly-veiled 
 exhortations addressed by the Becksiders one 
 to another with a view to promoting liber- 
 ality. 
 
 It was getting dark on the Friday even- 
 ing as the " super " reached the top of the hill 
 going down to the village, and his reverence 
 was just tightening rein to steady his steed 
 down the rough incline when a man came out 
 from behind a gate - post and cried, looking 
 cautiously round as he did so, " Whey ! " 
 
 It was Long Ben, and as he came close to 
 the trap the " super " noticed a look of appre- 
 hensive caution on his face. After the heartiest 
 of greetings, and another anxious glance towards 
 the village, he said, dropping his voice almost 
 to a whisper — 
 
 " He's bin agate on me ageean ; he winna le' 
 me gie nowt." 
 
 " Who won't ? " asked the " super."
 
 <«THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 319 
 
 " Whey, him ! " jerking his thumb in the 
 direction of the Clog Shop. *' He says Aw'm 
 nobbut fur t' gie five paand ! " And Ben's 
 long face lengthened considerably with an 
 injured, resentful expression. 
 
 " Well, can you afford more, Mr. Barber ? " 
 asked the " super," who knew enough to justify 
 the question. 
 
 " Affooard ! Wot's affooarding to dew wi' 
 it ? " cried Ben, now fairly roused. " This is 
 fur th' Lord's haase, isn't it ? Aw mun affooard, 
 an' Aw will, fur oather him or yo' ! " 
 
 " Well, but, with your family, Mr. Barber " — 
 
 " Family ! that's just it. Dew yo' think my 
 childer 'ud loike fur t' goa theer, an' gie nowt 
 towart th' fettlin' on it? Neaw, neaw, mestur, 
 we'est dew it if we 'an ta clem [starve] fur 
 it!" 
 
 " And does Mr. Jabez want to stop 
 you ? " 
 
 " Stop us ? Ay, does he. He says as if Aw 
 give a hawpenny mooar nur five paand he'll 
 stop th' job." 
 
 " Well, what do you want me to do ? " 
 
 " Aw've getten a bit of a plan fur chettin' 
 him, if yo'll help me." 
 
 " Well, what is it ? " 
 
 " When yo' begin ta read aat th' subscriptions 
 yo' mun read aat ' Ben Barber, five paand,' 
 an' then a bit efther yo' can say, * A Friend, 
 twenty paand,' dun yo' see, an' theer's th'
 
 320 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 brass," and Ben handed the minister five five- 
 pound notes. 
 
 A few minutes later the " super " and Ben 
 entered the Clog Shop in company, and Jabe 
 seeing them together, glared fiercely at Ben 
 and demanded — 
 
 " Weer'st bin ? " 
 
 But Ben merely sauntered to his seat with 
 his hands in his pockets, and began humming a 
 tune. 
 
 " Tum, tum, tum," cried Jabe, mocking the 
 carpenter's music, and evidently in the worst 
 of humours ; " tha's summat ta ' tum, tum ' 
 abaat, tha has." And eyeing him with a look 
 of mingled suspicion and disgust, he suddenly 
 demanded — 
 
 " Hast browt that writin' papper ? " 
 
 *' Hey, neaw ! " cried Ben in sudden remem- 
 brance ; " Aw'd cleean forgetten it," and he 
 hurried off homeward. 
 
 Jabe watched him disappear with distrustful, 
 uneasy looks, and then, turning with a heavy 
 sigh to the minister, he cried despairingly — 
 
 " Aw'st ne'er mak' nowt on him, Aw con see. 
 Aw've bin trying forty ye'r, an' Aw'm furder 
 off nor ivver ! " and then on sudden recollection 
 he changed his tone and said, " But Aw want 
 ta hev a word wi' yo', Mestur Shuper, afoor we 
 goa." 
 
 " Proceed, Mr. Steward." 
 
 " Naa, when yo' starten a talkin' abaat brass
 
 "THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 321 
 
 ta-neet, yon sawft ninny 'ull be up on his feet 
 an' givin' away his childer's meit afoor we know 
 wheer we are. Well, Aw'm gooin' fur t' stop 
 him. As soon as yo'n oppened aat, yo mun 
 read aat, ' Jabez Longworth, twenty-five paand,' 
 an' then, afoor he has time fur t' speik, yo' mun 
 say, ' Ben Barber, twenty-five paand.' An' if 
 yon mon gets up on his lung legs yo' mun stop 
 him, an' if he gets up twenty toimes yo' mun 
 stop him, — and theer's th' brass." And Jabe 
 handed fifty pounds to the minister in gold and 
 notes. 
 
 The " super," touched, amused, and a little 
 embarrassed by the conflicting confidences of 
 these two friends, was about to reply, when Ben 
 returned with the writing materials, and all 
 three adjourned to the chapel. 
 
 A goodly company had assembled, and, after 
 a formal opening, the minister proceeded in a 
 clear and forcible speech to explain the scheme 
 and solicit subscriptions. 
 
 " I have received one or two subscriptions 
 already," he said, " which I will read : — 
 
 " Mr. Benjamin Barber, five pounds. 
 
 " A Friend, twenty pounds." 
 
 There was an exclamation of smothered 
 wrath from Jabe, but the minister pro- 
 ceeded : — 
 
 " Mr. Jabez Longworth, twenty-five pounds. 
 
 " Mr. Benjamin Barber, twenty-five." 
 
 The meeting looked mystified. Two sub- 
 
 21
 
 322 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 scriptions in one name sounded very odd. 
 Long Ben sat in his side pew with his eyes 
 closed, and his face void of all expression, and 
 Jabe, after emitting from tightly-pursed lips 
 certain indescribable sounds, suddenly rose to 
 his feet, and glaring over the heads of the 
 people, across the whole length of the chapel, 
 exclaimed, shaking a podgy finger at Ben — 
 
 " Thaa thinks thaa's dun it this toime, dust 
 na? Bud Aw'll be straight wi' thee yet, tha 
 long lump-yed, thaa." 
 
 The minister was shocked at this very un- 
 parliamentary language, and was about to 
 intervene when his attention was diverted by a 
 scuffling sound in one of the middle pews, 
 where Sam Speck and Nathan seemed to be 
 having some trouble with Silas the chapel- 
 keeper, who was tightly jammed between 
 them. 
 
 More subscriptions began to come in. Dr. 
 Walmsley, in his own and his " dear wife's " 
 name, offered a thankoffering for a good 
 mother, followed by smaller gifts from the 
 ladies themselves. Then came Jonas Tatlock 
 and Johnty Harrop, followed by poor Phebe 
 Green from the mangle-house, who wanted " to 
 thank God for being a friend to the widow 
 and sending her some more friends." 
 
 " Ten paand, Mestur Shuper," shouted 
 Nathan the smith, still embarrassed by that 
 mysterious conflict in the middle pew.
 
 "THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 323 
 
 " An' me ten," chimed in Sam Speck, 
 apparently out of breath from the same 
 cause. 
 
 Then a sudden hush fell on the assembly 
 as Sniggy Parkin stood up, in evident 
 emotion. 
 
 " Aw — aw hevn't getten gradely straight 
 yet, friends," he stammered, " bud if yo'll trust 
 me twelve months Aw'll gee two paand ten fur 
 th' schoo'-missis, God bless her " — (loud 
 Amens) — " an' two paand ten fur this blessed 
 owd place wheer Jesus washed my sins away." 
 
 Then came smaller contributions from 
 others of the reformed Brick-crofters, each 
 accompanied by some rudely-tender reference 
 to " th' schoo'-missis." 
 
 A pause followed, and Lige, the road-mender, 
 started off singing, " Ther'll be na mooar sorra 
 theer." 
 
 And when that was got through, Job 
 Sharpies, the niggardly pig-dealer, rose. There 
 was breathless silence as he opened his pew 
 door and walked up to the communion-rail, 
 behind which the minister sat, and put down 
 on the table a coin. 
 
 Then he smiled patronisingly on the 
 minister, and walked back to his seat. Several 
 persons rose in their seats and leaned over 
 to see what the coin was. " A sovereign," 
 passed in whispers round the chapel, and 
 expressive looks were exchanged.
 
 324 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 As the whispers reached the back pew Jabe 
 rose from his seat, paused to draw himself to 
 his very fullest height, and then kicking 
 savagely at the disobedient pew door, he 
 limped down the whole length of the chapel, 
 took the coin from the table, and, stepping 
 with a haughty mien to Job's seat, he placed 
 the coin on the narrow book-rest with a loud 
 click, saying as he did so, in tones of in- 
 expressible scorn and irony, " Thaa conna 
 affooard it, Job," and then, with his nose 
 very much in the air, he limped back to his 
 pew. 
 
 A second time, at a moment of intense 
 interest, that mysterious noise came from Sam 
 Speck's pew, and taking advantage of the 
 momentary distraction. Job snatched his cap 
 from one of the pegs against the wall and 
 hurried out. 
 
 A few more subscriptions were now an- 
 nounced, including quite reckless sums from 
 Jethro and Lige, and once more that unruly 
 disturbance in Sam Speck's neighbourhood 
 broke out. A sharp sound, like the rending of 
 cloth, was heard, and Silas, the chapel-keeper, 
 with a flapping rent in one of his coat-sleeves, 
 came struggling out of the pew, having 
 evidently escaped with difficulty from the 
 restraining hands of Sam and Nathan. 
 
 With his long, thin hair waving about, and 
 excitement and triumph in his look, he rushed
 
 '•THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 325 
 
 up to the table, and dragging out of his pocket 
 a large tobacco-box, he opened the lid and 
 emptied the contents before the minister. It 
 was a strange collection. There were several 
 dim and dirty threepenny and fourpenny 
 pieces, a number of green-mouldy coppers, 
 two crowns, a few other odd silver coins, and 
 three little greasy packets containing a half- 
 sovereign each. 
 
 " They say Aw munna give nowt 'cause 
 Aw'm sa poor," he cried, in his wild way. 
 " They say as they'll send it back if Aw dew. 
 Did th' Lord stop th' poor widow fro' givin' 
 'cause hoc wur poor ? Did He send her mite 
 back ? Neaw ! An' He winna send mine 
 back, if they dew. It wur aw as hoo had, and 
 He took it ; an' it's aw as Aw have, an' He'll 
 tak' mine. An' Aw daar ony on yo' ta stop 
 me." And poor Silas sank sobbing upon the 
 communion cushion. 
 
 " Friends," said the minister, with wet eyes 
 and shaking voice, " Silas, like the widow, has 
 given more than we all, for he has given of his 
 necessity."
 
 " The Zeal of Thine House 
 
 IV 
 
 Raising the Wind 
 
 327
 
 " The Zeal of Thine House " 
 
 IV 
 
 Raising the Wind 
 
 The Clogger sat in a high-backed arm chair, 
 very close to the parlour fire. He had a huge 
 " comforter " round his neck, the ends of which 
 passed up over his ears and met in a knot at 
 the top of his head. One side of his face was 
 swollen. Though the weather was cold, he 
 was without a coat, for Beckside gentlemen 
 seldom wore their coats indoors ; but his 
 shoulders were covered by a heavy shawl. He 
 had on his knee a jug containing ale-posset — 
 a very popular local cure for colds — and near 
 him, on the oven top, another jug containing 
 " cumfrey tay." 
 
 He held his head a little on one side in a 
 pensive manner, and had a pathetic, self- 
 pitying expression on his face. He had got 
 wet through two or three times lately whilst 
 out begging for the chapel, and this was the
 
 330 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 result. He had now had several days of 
 invalidism, which had tried his temper very 
 severely, and at last had reduced him to 
 pensive and sorrowful resignation. 
 
 " Aw've towd thi mony a toime as Aw 
 shouldn't be a lung liver," he said, in melan- 
 choly, whining tones, to Aunt Judy, who was 
 nursing him. " An' tha sees Aw'm reet. 
 Aw'st dee abaat th' same age as my muther 
 did." 
 
 " Dee ? Ger aat wi' thi, tha owd molly- 
 coddle. Yo' felleys is so feart if owt ails 
 yo'." 
 
 " Judy," he replied, shaking his head with 
 profound solemnity, " yo'r Jabe's dun." And 
 then, after another pause and a sob, which he 
 did not even try to conceal, " Aw'st ne'er see 
 th' chapil oppened aat." 
 
 Judy was in difficulties. She did not in the 
 least share the patient's fears, but she knew 
 that to refuse to believe in them would only 
 make things worse. So she tried to get up an 
 argument with him on the comparative virtues 
 of ale-posset and " cumfrey tay," and roundly 
 declared, in the hope of arousing a spark of 
 the old combativeness, that the preference of 
 men-folk for ale-posset was a suspicious 
 circumstance to her. 
 
 But even this did not succeed, and Jabe 
 was commencing to give some directions as 
 to the disposal of his worldly possessions,
 
 "THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 331 
 
 when Judy had a sudden inspiration, and 
 broke in — 
 
 " Hastyerd wotSueJohnty's bin propoasin'?" 
 
 " Neaw, wench," replied the C logger, but 
 with just the faintest gleam of curiosity in 
 his eye. " Aw've noa interest i' warldly things 
 naa." 
 
 " Hoo says hoo can see a hunderd paand in 
 it, at ony rate," said Judy, stealing a sly look 
 at her brother's face, and knowing that if any- 
 thing could rouse him it would be the chance 
 of hearing of means to raise money for the 
 chapel renovation scheme. 
 
 " Well, hoo's a loikely wench is Susy," Jabe 
 replied. " Wot's hoo been sayin' ? " 
 
 " Hoo wants us to have a buzaar." And 
 Judy gave a sort of anticipatory wince, and 
 shot a glance of quick apprehension at 
 the Clogger, as she dropped out the last 
 word. 
 
 " Wot ?" shouted Jabe, jumping to his feet, 
 and upsetting the jug of ale-posset as he did so. 
 And for the next five minutes poor Judy had 
 poured upon her a torrent of abuse and re- 
 proach. 
 
 The attack would doubtless have lasted 
 longer than it did but for the fact that Jabe's 
 excitement burst a huge gumboil and effectually 
 closed his mouth for the time, and the doctor, 
 coming in a little later, found him faint and 
 exhausted, but still " breathing out threatenings."
 
 332 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 For the next three days Jabe sat in semi- 
 state in his parlour, passing through the various 
 stages of convalescence, and telling over and 
 over again the story of Sue Johnty's wicked 
 and worldly proposal, and though many dis- 
 agreed with him, and some had even given a 
 conditional adhesion to Mrs. Johnty's scheme, 
 nobody dared to say so in the dogger's 
 presence. 
 
 Jabe had never seen a bazaar, but he re- 
 garded them as the last sign of worldliness 
 and pride in a church, and declared again and 
 again during those days of convalescence — 
 
 " Aw'd sooner see th' bums [bailiffs] i' th' 
 chapel fur debt nur pay it off wi' brass fro' 
 Vanity Fair." 
 
 This episode seemed also to increase his ani- 
 mosity towards the opposite sex. 
 
 " Women an' trubbel cam' into th' warld 
 together, an' they'n bin together ivver sin' ; bud 
 Aw'll watch 'em at this." 
 
 But poor Jabe was only human, and turned 
 pale with a sense of approaching discomfiture 
 as on the first day after he resumed work he 
 lifted his head and saw the schoolmistress 
 (now Mrs. Dr. Walmsley), Nancy of the Fold 
 farm, and the irresistible Mrs. Johnty Harrop 
 approaching the shop. 
 
 It was a long tussle in the parlour that 
 afternoon, and when the ladies retired they had 
 a subdued and resigned air about them which
 
 "THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 333 
 
 seemed to indicate defeat, but it was only the 
 meekness of a great sense of victory, for that 
 very night Jabe, by tortuous and difficult 
 processes, understood only by the initiated, 
 caused it to be known that he was sacrificing 
 his principles for peace sake, and that the 
 bazaar would be held. 
 
 In a few days all Beckside was working and 
 begging for the sale. It was intended to be 
 held in the following February, and as the time 
 of opening drew near, the whole neighbourhood 
 became excited about it. Church people from 
 Brogden offered to help, and the families of the 
 two brothers who owned the Beckside Mill took 
 hearty interest in the enterprise. 
 
 Jabe and his confederates -became positively 
 nervous about it. A bazaar had never been 
 held nearer than Duxbury, and our friends had 
 many misgivings. Most of the arrangements 
 were in the hands of the ladies, and one or 
 two of them were wilful and quite irresistible 
 women, who did not even consult the digni- 
 taries of the Clog Shop, and every few hours 
 Sam Speck brought tidings of fresh arrange- 
 ments of an utterly unheard - of character, 
 until, when the Sunday before the great event 
 arrived, Jabe was almost ill with suppressed 
 excitement. 
 
 The sale was to last two days, and the local 
 preacher who was appointed on the preceding 
 Sunday brought a note from the " super " con-
 
 334 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 taining hints for the management of the affair. 
 At the close of the note he remarked that as 
 the schoolhouse where the bazaar was to be 
 held was over the Beck-bridge, and rather 
 lonely, it would be well to get someone to stay 
 in the building all night, as a protection against 
 fire or thieves. 
 
 This suggestion was a perfect boon. After 
 having had to stand aside and act as mere 
 camp-followers in the affair, the Clog Shop 
 authorities suddenly found themselves in charge 
 of an important department, and proceeded 
 to discuss the situation with undisguised 
 relish. 
 
 As soon as the question was raised there 
 were numerous volunteers, and it seemed at 
 one time as if there was going to be difficulty 
 in settling who should have the honour of 
 defending the schoolhouse — Sam Speck, whose 
 father had been a parish constable, and had 
 bequeathed an old truncheon to his son, 
 and Lige the road - mender, who often 
 at the Clog Shop fire told remarkable 
 stories about his achievements as gamekeeper's 
 substitute in days gone by, being the most 
 clamorous. 
 
 As the debate proceeded, however, it widened 
 out somewhat, and in a short time the bazaar 
 was forgotten in the breathless interest with 
 which the circle listened to stories of footpads, 
 burglars, and highway robbers.
 
 "THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 335 
 
 By this time Sam and Lige seemed to show 
 some uneasiness. From thieves the conversa- 
 tion seemed to pass quite naturally to ghosts, 
 and by the time that Jonas Tatlock had told 
 once more his never-failing story of the sexton 
 who fell asleep one night in Brogden Church, 
 and was awakened by a ghost which touched 
 his hair, leaving a white tuft amidst a plentiful 
 shock of brown, every person present was most 
 satisfactorily thrilled, and the sudden falling 
 together of the embers in the fire sent a shock 
 through the whole company. 
 
 In the silence that followed every man 
 seemed to be inwardly resolving to swallow 
 his own preferences and to waive any claim 
 he might have to the hitherto coveted honour. 
 And so, when conversation on the immediate 
 question was resumed, Sam and Lige found 
 that all competition for the perilous honour 
 they claimed had ceased, and they were likely 
 to be left in unchallenged possession. 
 
 Then Sam became suddenly generous, 
 and intimated that he really didn't mind 
 very much if anybody particularly wanted the 
 honour. 
 
 But nobody did, and some hints dropped by 
 Lige about the dangers to his " asthmatic " in 
 being out late were ignored ; in fact, the more 
 generous Sam and his companion showed them- 
 selves, the more self-sacrificing became the rest 
 of the company, and Sam, at anyrate, went
 
 336 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 home that night anathematising his own long 
 tongue. 
 
 But real self-sacrifice brings its own reward, 
 and so the valiant volunteer guardsmen were 
 comforted next day by the discovery that they 
 had achieved fame as heroic spirits. All day 
 on Monday they were receiving offers of loans 
 of firearms of almost every style and age, 
 whilst bludgeons and cudgels were tendered 
 wholesale, and Micky Hollows, from the Gravel 
 Hole, offered an ingenious man-trap with 
 powerful springs of his own invention. 
 
 This popularity, of course, had its effect on 
 the two daring spirits, and when the policeman 
 sauntered into the Clog Shop on Monday 
 night, and volunteered to assist them, his 
 offer was slightingly — almost scornfully — 
 declined. 
 
 The next day, " Poncake Tuesday," was the 
 opening of the bazaar. All passed off well in 
 spite of the fuming and agitation of Jabe, and 
 when the first day's proceedings were over, and 
 it was announced that ^93, 17s. had been 
 taken, everybody went home tired but 
 happy. 
 
 As the buyers and sellers dispersed, much 
 interest was excited by the arrival of Sam and 
 Lige to mount guard over the building and its 
 valuable contents. Sam carried a thick cudgel 
 over his shoulder, and a pistol sticking out of 
 each pocket, whilst Lige had an old gun, one of
 
 ''THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 337 
 
 his own long-handled stone-breaking hammers, 
 and an old-fashioned powder-flask, whilst he led 
 by a chain Long Ben's big yard dog " Tenter." 
 Feeling that admiring and even envious eyes 
 were upon them, the watchmen marched to- 
 wards the stove in the middle of the school- 
 house, and very self-consciously proceeded to 
 arrange their weapons in order. 
 
 When the general public had gone, Jabe, 
 Ben, and a few of the others stayed behind 
 with the watchers, and smoked a social pipe 
 whilst they recounted the successes of the day. 
 When they talked of going, Sam, who seemed 
 somehow to have laid in quite a stock of new 
 or revised stories, began to tell them faster 
 than ever, putting into the relation rather more 
 than his usual animation. Then he invited 
 them to taste a brew of hot coffee, which he 
 proceeded to make ; and so it was past mid- 
 night when the last lingerers departed, and the 
 valiant defenders of church property were left 
 alone. 
 
 For a time they stood in the road listening 
 to the retreating footsteps and voices of their 
 friends, and then to the banging of doors which 
 followed, but in a minute or two all was quiet, 
 and an eerie stillness seemed to be in the black 
 darkness. 
 
 So the watchmen went inside for the 
 comfort and company of the dog. Then 
 they smoked, glancing uneasily up at the
 
 338 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 high windows every now and again, and 
 holding their breath to listen at the slightest 
 sound. 
 
 After a while Sam began to examine his 
 weapons, and showed unmistakable signs of 
 nervousness, while Lige took frequent pulls at 
 a large can of warm ale, which was kept in 
 condition by standing near the stove. The 
 dog stretched himself out on the floor to sleep. 
 
 Presently Lige began to nod, which made 
 Sam quite angry, and he tried to draw him 
 into conversation. But it was no use ; the 
 road-mender was overpowered, and was sinking 
 every minute or two into slumber, in spite of 
 his own and Sam's efforts to keep him 
 awake. 
 
 The stove was a closed one. They had 
 been recommended for safety's sake to use a 
 lantern instead of a naked light, and so the 
 room was almost dark, and the articles that 
 hung about made all sorts of strange deep 
 shadows, and assumed all sorts of suggestive 
 and terrifying shapes. 
 
 Sam grew so apprehensive that he dared not 
 look round. It was the very longest night he 
 had ever spent. How cold it was getting, and 
 how awesomely quiet. Would morning never — 
 Bang ! 
 
 Sam must have been dozing, but this bang 
 brought him instantly to his feet. He snatched 
 up the pistols, held them straight over his head,
 
 "THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 339 
 
 shut his eyes, and fired. One of the pistols 
 kicked and hurt him, and he jumped back and 
 yelled. 
 
 The shots were followed by the furious 
 barking of the dog, and by Lige falling 
 from his seat and lying on his back, where 
 he remained shouting, " Murther ! Thieves ! 
 Fire ! " 
 
 Then the dog, frantic with excitement, 
 jumped at Sam, who sprang back and fell over 
 the small table on which the lantern was 
 standing, and extinguished the only light they 
 had. 
 
 " Help ! Murther ! " shouted Sam. 
 
 " Fire ! Fire ! " shouted Lige, and then they 
 both lay panting on the floor in the powder 
 smoke until the dog ceased barking, and all 
 was still again. 
 
 Presently they heard a scraping sound on 
 the walls outside, which set the dog barking 
 again, and then there was a bang at one of the 
 high windows. A minute later, Sam, venturing 
 to lift up his head, saw a man with a lantern 
 trying to open the window. 
 
 " Thieves ! Help ! " shouted Sam again, 
 and began to grope on the floor for a weapon, 
 the dog the while going nearly frantic. All at 
 once the window flew open, a puff of cold air 
 entered the room, and the thin, squeaky 
 voice of Jethro the knocker-up was heard 
 crying —
 
 340 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 " Sam ! Liger ! wotiver's ta dew ? Are yo' 
 kilt?" 
 
 In a few minutes Jethro had lowered his 
 lantern into the room on the end of his hand- 
 kerchief, and by its light Sam rescued Lige 
 from the debris and opened the door, when it 
 appeared that Jethro, getting up early to pre- 
 pare for his rounds, had remembered the lonely 
 watchers, and had made them a can of hot 
 coffee, but that in the darkness he had stumbled 
 against the door with the butt-end of his 
 knocking-up stick, and had made the sharp 
 bang which had startled Sam so terribly. 
 
 The next day nearly all the goods were dis- 
 posed of. The handsome total of i^204 was 
 realised, and the graver spirits of the Clog 
 Shop were of opinion that it was worth while 
 to have had the bazaar, if only for its chasten- 
 ing effects on the irrepressible Sam. 
 
 But Sam and Lige escaped more easily 
 than they otherwise would have done, because 
 another matter attracted public attention. 
 The bazaar had made Beckside popular, and 
 the struggles of the villagers with their chapel 
 scheme evoked sympathy in quite unexpected 
 quarters. 
 
 One day the younger of the two gentlemen 
 who owned the mill sent for Jabe to the office, 
 and proposed to him, by the help of a party of 
 musical friends from Duxbury, to give a grand 
 concert in a temporarily empty warehouse
 
 "THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 341 
 
 belonging to the mill. The proceeds were to 
 go to the renovation fund. As soon as the 
 scheme was described to him Jabe saw in it a 
 grand opportunity for the Beckside string band 
 to display its talents, but the master, after long 
 and skilful fencing, managed to convince the 
 Clogger that, however desirable, this was 
 scarcely practicable. 
 
 When Jabe announced the arrangements to 
 his friends he was almost unanimously re- 
 proached for never having proposed that their 
 band should give concerts. They might have 
 had the schoolhouse for the asking. But when 
 it was clear that he had actually discussed the 
 question of the band assisting at the forth- 
 coming performance, and had allowed himself 
 to be beaten, he was regarded as having 
 seriously compromised himself 
 
 The concert promised to be a very grand 
 affair, and, to crown all, the day but one before 
 it was to take place the master brought news 
 that the famous Madame Bona, a great pro- 
 fessional lady singer, who happened to be 
 singing at Whipham, a town a few miles the 
 other side of Duxbury, had sent a special 
 message to say that she had heard of the 
 Beckside concert and its object, and would 
 like to sing at it without fee. 
 
 This being noised abroad the fame of the 
 lady created quite a rush for tickets, and when 
 the evening arrived the big warehouse, swept
 
 342 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 out and decorated for the occasion, was crammed. 
 The reserved seats were filled with the local 
 gentry, many of whom had never even seen 
 Beckside before, and on the front row of the 
 cheaper seats sat the members of the Clog 
 Shop Club. 
 
 The small but select band from Duxbury 
 came in for very severe criticism indeed from 
 these authorities. Jethro, as chief, sat bolt 
 upright with his eyes closed, every now and 
 then making expressive grimaces as the per- 
 formers offended his delicate ear ; and, when the 
 overture was finished, Sam Speck leaned back- 
 ward to a Duxbury man who was sitting 
 behind, and pointing at Jonas Tatlock, whis- 
 pered — 
 
 " Ther's a mon theere as 'ud fiddle the'r yeds 
 off." 
 
 After three or four pieces had been got 
 through, a rustle in the front seats and a 
 general buzz of excitement announced the 
 advent of the great singer. Most of the Clog 
 Shop cronies stood up to see her come in ; and 
 when she did so each turned and looked at his 
 neighbour with a surprised and shocked expres- 
 sion, for the lady was in evening dress. 
 
 It was the first time most of them had seen 
 a lady thus attired, and it so irresistibly 
 suggested the theatre, and other wicked places, 
 that Jabe and Ben sat suddenly down and 
 buried their faces — hot with shame — in their
 
 '•THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 343 
 
 hands, whilst the rest looked at each other 
 with embarrassment. 
 
 But the lady began to sing ; and as her full, 
 rich tones rolled down the room even Jabe 
 lifted his head to listen, carefully avoiding, 
 however, looking at the singer. In a moment 
 or two he began to frown, and, finally, turning 
 to Jethro, he cried in a loud, angry whisper — 
 
 " What's hoo mee-mawin abaat ? " 
 
 " Huish, mon," cried Jethro, who was as per- 
 plexed as his friend, but had his reputation to 
 think of. " Aw fancy yon's that new Tonic 
 Sol-fa as thaa's yerd abaat." 
 
 But Jabe only shook his head in weary dis- 
 approval, and though the " quality " applauded 
 the Italian song, and even the crowd clapped, 
 the chapel authorities received it in frigid 
 silence. 
 
 One or two band selections having been 
 played, a well-known and somewhat old- 
 fashioned violin solo was given, which, as it 
 came within the range of their own knowledge, 
 received from the village critics a modified 
 approval. 
 
 Then the lady appeared again and sang an 
 English love-song, and, though its sentiments 
 made Jabe's lip curl, its music found a way to 
 his heart, and he led off the clapping for their 
 bench. The others somewhat coldly joined in, 
 and Sam Speck stood bolt upright and stared 
 at the singer with all his eyes, although she
 
 344 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 was, according to Beckside standards, un- 
 dressed. 
 
 Towards the close of the concert the lady 
 sang once more, and was rapturously encored. 
 When she responded it was noticed that she 
 was without music, and signalled to the accom- 
 panist that she would dispense with his assist- 
 ance. What was she going to do ? Every 
 eye in the great throng was upon her; even 
 the bench of critics was compelled to look at 
 her. 
 
 And there she stood. Something seemed 
 to be moving her, and she tried to commence 
 but could not. Then she folded her hands 
 behind her, school girl fashion, threw back her 
 beautiful head, and a moment later there came 
 warbling through the hot air the old familiar 
 strains of Beckside's favourite Sunday School 
 hymn — 
 
 " Around the throne of God in heaven, 
 Thousands of children stand." 
 
 The audience was spellbound ; and as the 
 singer sang on, a great flush oi feeling passed 
 over hundreds of faces in the cheaper seats, 
 and all were listening entranced, when suddenly 
 the thin, shrill voice of Jethro pierced the air 
 with a vibrant, long drawn out " G-1-o-r-y ! " 
 
 The singer faltered ; tears suddenly swam 
 into her eyes ; she stopped, swept a long, low 
 curtsey, and hurriedly retired — whilst the back
 
 ''THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 345 
 
 benches, led by Jethro, took up the broken 
 refrain and sang it to the end. 
 
 The reserved seats even had been touched 
 by this unrehearsed item, and as the assembly 
 broke up the only topic of conversation was 
 the great singer's last song, and her unheard-of 
 breakdown. 
 
 The Clogger and his friends filed off, duck 
 fashion, to the shop, each man feeling as he 
 wiped his eyes that they had something worth 
 talking about for once. The pipes had all 
 been charged, and Jethro was just opening the 
 conversation, when a carriage was heard to 
 stop outside. The door opened ; a rustle of 
 silk and a waft of scent came floating into the 
 shop, and the great Madame Bona swept 
 towards the ingle-nook. 
 
 " Well, gentlemen ; how did you like my 
 song ? " she asked, still manifesting signs of 
 emotion. 
 
 *' God bless yo' ! " shouted two or three at 
 once. 
 
 " God bless you, for you taught it me," 
 replied the singer. 
 
 Every man rose to his feet in amazement. 
 
 " Yes, old friends, you taught it me. And 
 in my strange life now, that and other things 
 you taught me, keep me from going entirely 
 wrong. I've heard of your sacrifices for the 
 dear old chapel, and I want you to know that 
 there are others out in the great world who
 
 346 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 love it too, and will thank God for it for 
 ever." 
 
 And slipping a heavy purse into Jabe's 
 trembling hand, she made another sweeping 
 curtsey, crying, as she did so, " God bless you, 
 and God bless the chapel ! " — and was gone.
 
 '^ The Zeal of Thine House " 
 V 
 
 At Last! 
 
 847
 
 " The Zeal of Thine House " 
 
 V 
 
 At Last! 
 
 During the renovation of the chapel the Clog 
 Shop became a sort of General Office. The 
 Building Committee, which had been formed 
 by a strictly temporary enlargement of the 
 Trustees' Meeting, was supposed to meet in 
 Jabe's parlour every Friday evening, but in 
 reality it could never be said to have sus- 
 pended its sittings, and the Friday night 
 meetings became mere perfunctory ceremonies 
 which formally closed the week's work. 
 
 The " super " had informed them that to be 
 strictly in order all decisions must be confirmed 
 by the Trustees, and the fortnightly meeting of 
 that body, though brief, was a solemnly im- 
 portant affair, and invested the members of it 
 with much of the same sense of dignified 
 responsibility that supports the Lords Com- 
 missioners when delivering the Royal Assent
 
 350 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 which makes a mere " Bill " an Act of Parlia- 
 ment. 
 
 Now, Silas the chapel-keeper had been made 
 a committee-man, and had not the least idea 
 of allowing his office to become a sinecure. 
 Sometimes, indeed, his functions seemed in 
 danger of clashing the one with the other, the 
 chapel-keeper getting in the way of the com- 
 mittee-man or vice versa, which led to some 
 mental perturbation. 
 
 Silas, however, had an adequate idea of 
 what was required of him, and, as he had also 
 much leisure and more zeal, he was a most 
 prominent member of the Building Board. 
 Vested with his new authority, he became a 
 sort of self-appointed inspector of works of the 
 most lynx-eyed and incorruptible character, 
 and a thorn in the side of the workmen. 
 
 On that memorable Monday morning when 
 Long Ben and his workmen arrived on the 
 premises to commence operations, they found 
 Silas waiting for them at the gate dangling 
 his keys in his hand, and evidently fully 
 sensible of the honour and responsibility 
 vested in him. 
 
 As he inserted the key into the front door, 
 he turned round and eyed the two tool-laden 
 apprentices with suspicious and admonitory 
 looks as he said — 
 
 " Naa, yo' lads, nooan o' yo'r gams. Yo're no' 
 gooin'in to a menadgerie or a alehaase, mind yo'."
 
 "THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 351 
 
 When they began the work of removing the 
 front pews Silas found himself in difficulties. 
 If he stood by and watched the workmen, every 
 stroke of the hammer sent a thrill through him, 
 and their light-hearted manner made his blood 
 boil, but if he left them he was tortured with 
 apprehensions of the sacrilege they might be 
 committing. 
 
 Presently in the pleasant excitement of the 
 work one of the boys began to hiss a tune 
 through his teeth, and in a few moments the 
 hiss grew into a whistle. 
 
 " Wot ! " shouted Silas, coming in from the 
 graveyard, and glaring fiercely at the offender 
 whistling. " Thaa gaumless wastril, dust know 
 wheer thaa art ? " 
 
 A day or two later, as a high wind was 
 blowing and the chapel became very draughty, 
 the other apprentice ventured to put on his 
 cap, and was unconscious of the enormity of his 
 crime until the cap was sent flying from his 
 head, and Silas stood over him shaking his fist 
 and shouting — 
 
 " For shawm o' thysel. Wheer hast bin 
 browt up ? " and then turning to the other 
 workmen, who were sheepishly removing their 
 head coverings, he gave them an up-to-date 
 exposition of the awful examples of Uzzah and 
 the rash men of Bethshemesh. 
 
 Later on Silas was haunted with suspicion 
 that smoking occasionally took place in the
 
 6:>- 
 
 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 vestry, and had elaborated the most ingenious 
 plan for discovering the offender when a much 
 more serious difficulty presented itself. 
 
 When the bricklayers arrived one morning to 
 commence pulling down the back premises pre- 
 paratory to building the new schoolroom, Silas 
 discovered that Pot Dick, an avowed sceptic 
 from Brogden, was amongst the number. He 
 saw him arrive with silent amazement, and as 
 Dick was passing round towards the back of 
 the chapel to commence work, Silas stopped 
 him — 
 
 " Wot ! Thee ! Sithee, if thaa puts a jfinger 
 upo' thuse owd stooans Aw'll — Aw'll chuck thi 
 o'er that waw." 
 
 As Silas was slight and painfully thin, and 
 Pot Dick a burly sixteen-stoner, this terrible 
 threat only made the bricklayer smile. 
 
 But at that moment Long Ben appeared on 
 the scene, and the outraged chapel-keeper at 
 once attacked him. Ben seemed inclined to 
 argue the point, and so Silas fetched Jabe and 
 Sam Speck, and, after a long wrangle, he 
 carried his point, and the master bricklayer 
 was requested to remove the obnoxious work- 
 man. 
 
 Encouraged by this victory, the chapel- 
 keeper stood guard over his beloved charge, 
 and so lectured and badgered the workmen 
 that Ben's position as chief contractor became a 
 very difficult one indeed.
 
 "THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 353 
 
 As the new part of the building began to 
 rise on its foundations, Silas also took upon 
 himself the role of chief exhibitor ; and getting 
 possession somehow of a number of technical 
 building terms, he amazed and mystified the 
 villagers by entirely incomprehensible descrip- 
 tions, in which pullasthurs (pilasters), mullions, 
 corbills (corbels), and cornishes frequently 
 appeared, whilst strange visitors went away 
 profoundly impressed with the transcendent 
 abilities of " Aar artchitect." 
 
 When the front window was nearly finished 
 Silas made a grand discovery, and for several 
 days every person visiting the building was 
 taken across the road to get a view of the 
 window, and was then informed under in- 
 violable bonds of secrecy, " They tell me as 
 that winder's pure Gostic. Brogdin Church 
 winder's a sky-leet to it." 
 
 To the workmen, however, Silas became a 
 perfect terror. If they inadvertently trod on a 
 grave or laid anything upon the packing-sheets 
 covering the pulpit and communion-rail, he was 
 down upon them with unexampled fierceness ; 
 and a joiner who absently began singing " Rule 
 Britannia" was not allowed to forget his enor- 
 mous transgression for weeks. 
 
 At last the badgered labourers began to 
 resent these things. Murmurs broke out, 
 protests were made, and one Saturday, after 
 paying the wages, Long Ben adjourned to 
 
 23
 
 354 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 the Clog Shop in a very perplexed frame of 
 mind. 
 
 He sighed heavily as he sank into his 
 accustomed seat and began to fill his pipe, 
 but as the others were deep in a discussion 
 as to whether Sovrenity (Sovereignty) or Wheat 
 and Tares would be the best tune to com- 
 mence with on the opening day, he was 
 unheeded. 
 
 In a few moments, however, unable longer to 
 contain himself, he burst out — 
 
 " Aw'll tell yo' wot it is, chaps. If iver th' 
 chapel's ta be oppened aat, yo'll ha' ta muzzil 
 yond' awd crater i' th' chapil yard." 
 
 Every eye was turned instantly on the 
 speaker, and as he leaned back in the 
 chimney-nook with a decided " I've had my 
 say and mean it " look on his face, Jabe 
 drawled out as he poked his little finger 
 into the bowl of his pipe — 
 
 " Ay, rots is allis daan o' tarriers." 
 
 Ben vouchsafed no reply ; he was too busy 
 with his own thoughts. At length he 
 observed — 
 
 " Wee'st ha' ta get him aat o' th' rooad some 
 rooad." 
 
 " Ay ! " said two or three at once, and 
 laughed incredulously at the absurdity of such 
 an idea. 
 
 " Aw shouldn't loike fur t' be th' mon ta men- 
 tion sitchen a thing to him," said Sam Speck.
 
 "THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 355 
 
 " Yo' couldn't poo' him aat o' Beckside just 
 naa wi' horses an' cheynes " (chains), said Jabe 
 with deep conviction. 
 
 " But there are other reasons why he should 
 be got away at once," broke in the doctor, who 
 was present. Everybody turned to look at the 
 speaker interrogatively, and Long Ben asked 
 somewhat eagerly — 
 
 " Wot dun yo' meean, doctor ? " 
 
 " I mean that unless he gets a complete 
 change at once we shall lose him." 
 
 There was a long pause, during which 
 surprise deepened into anxiety on every face 
 as they looked meaningly at each other, and 
 Ben's gradually assumed a very conscience- 
 stricken expression. 
 
 But just then Silas appeared on the scene, 
 and though to those who had heard the 
 doctor's statement he looked more worn and 
 haggard than ever, he at once commenced an 
 animated discussion on the to him obnoxious 
 proposal to put a patent ventilator on the 
 roof. 
 
 In the midst of the debate the doctor 
 rose to go, and Jabe and Ben followed him 
 out. 
 
 " Dun yo' meean it, doctor ? " asked Ben 
 anxiously when they got outside. 
 
 " About Silas ? I do mean it. It is a 
 very serious case. It is only his interest 
 in that old building that is keeping him up."
 
 356 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 Ben heaved a great sigh, and began to pull 
 his straggling beard very nervously, whilst 
 Jabe, turning his head away and gazing far 
 away up the hill, asked in a husky voice — 
 
 " Dun yo' think as th' owd chapil-haase 'as 
 hed owt to dew wi' it ? " 
 
 " Think ? I'm sure of it." 
 
 The two stewards shot quick glances at each 
 other, and instantly dropped their eyes to the 
 ground, and as they stood there rubbing the 
 dust with uneasy feet, remembrances of Silas' 
 long and voluntary services and of appeals he 
 had made for improvements in his little cottage 
 came home to them, and added bitterness to the 
 sorrow of the moment. 
 
 At last Jabe broke out — 
 
 " He mun goa, chuse wot he says and chuse 
 wot it cosses (costs). He mun be ta'n away if 
 he winna goa." 
 
 To this the other two agreed, and Jabe and 
 Ben went back to the shop. 
 
 Next morning Silas was not in his usual 
 place at the schoolhouse, which was the 
 temporary place of worship, and it was 
 soon known that he was in bed, with the 
 doctor attending him. He seemed to rally, 
 however, about Tuesday, and after the week- 
 night service Jabe and Ben went to have their 
 tussle with the patient, taking the minister and 
 the doctor with them. 
 
 The chapel-keeper heard the proposal with
 
 •<THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 357 
 
 intense indignation, and refused peremptorily to 
 have the question discussed. When, however, 
 the doctor and the minister had spoken seriously 
 to him, and he began to fear having to give 
 way, he lost his temper, accused Ben of 
 interested motives, called him a " fawse owd 
 schamer," and then gave himself away by 
 threatening him with all sorts of dire ven- 
 geance when he came back. 
 
 Ben endured his chastisement with great 
 meekness, and said coaxingly — 
 
 " If tha'll goa to th' sayside we'll say no 
 mooar abaat th' ventilator, an' tha'st tak' a 
 pictur' o' th' chapil wi' thi. Sam Speck shall 
 goa wi' thi fur company, an' tha'st come back 
 i' toime fur th' oppenin' aat." 
 
 Visiting the " sayside " was not so common 
 in Lancashire in those days, and Silas and his 
 friend were the only Becksiders who enjoyed 
 the luxury that season ; but neither the dis- 
 tinction thus achieved nor the load of little 
 comforts that were heaped upon him to take 
 with him, nor all the promises of his friends 
 to write to him compensated, in Silas' mind, for 
 his painful separation from his beloved charge. 
 
 All the day before his departure he followed 
 Long Ben about, instructing, cautioning, and 
 even threatening him, until Ben was glad when 
 evening came ; and next morning the coach 
 was kept standing some time outside the chapel, 
 whilst Silas gave his final directions.
 
 358 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 A few days later Jabe sat dozing in the 
 ingle-nook, with Ben as his only companion. 
 
 " There's twenty-five paand wrung between 
 thee an' me," said the carpenter 
 
 Jabe responded with an unintelligible grunt. 
 
 " Aw think Aw've fun a way o' squaring it," 
 continued Ben. " Th' doctor says he'll gie me 
 ten paand and Nancy-o'-th'-Fowt 'ull gie me 
 anuther, an' wi' that twenty-five th' job's dun." 
 
 " Wot's dun ? Wot art talkin' abaat ? " cried 
 Jabe, waking up and rubbing his eyes. 
 
 " Pooin' Silas' haase daan, an' buildin' a 
 betther afore he comes whoam," was the reply. 
 
 Jabe stopped in the middle of a vast yawn, 
 transfixed Ben with his eyes, as if to look him 
 through, and sat gazing thus at him whilst the 
 whole project was passing in review before his 
 mind. He saw at once the discrepancy be- 
 tween Ben's figures and the probable cost of 
 the new cottage, and did not need the least 
 hint as to how Ben, who would of course build 
 it, meant to make up the deficiency. 
 
 With this exception the proposal was exactly 
 to his mind ; and so after stipulating that the 
 matter should be kept out of the weekly letter 
 to Silas, so that " Th' owd lad can come back 
 to a grand surprise," he gave his consent to the 
 scheme, and, in fact, came so near to paying 
 Ben a compliment for his thoughtfulness that 
 that worthy had some diflficulty in concealing 
 his surprise.
 
 "THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 359 
 
 In course of time the chapel drew near to 
 completion. The date of the opening was 
 fixed. Band practices in preparation for the 
 great event were in full swing, and Ben was 
 pushing rapidly on with Silas' cottage. Letters 
 of painful elaborateness were received weekly 
 from the absentees, which, whilst they contained 
 innumerable questions about the progress of 
 the renovation, very pointed and peremptory 
 messages to the committee, and impatient de- 
 mands as to when they might come home, 
 gave only the most cursory information about 
 the patient. 
 
 At last, word was sent that Silas might re- 
 turn, and two days later the old coach landed 
 him and Sam at the chapel gate, where a knot 
 of Beckside worthies had gathered to welcome 
 them. Silas had to be helped out, and a glance 
 of sad meaning passed round as the onlookers 
 scanned his yellow face. 
 
 But Silas scarcely saw them. Disengag- 
 ing himself from Sam's arm, and waving his 
 friends back for a moment he leaned on his 
 stick, and, standing in the middle of the road, 
 drew a long, heavy breath, as his shining eyes 
 feasted themselves on the now finished chapel 
 front. 
 
 " H-a-y, bud isn't it grand ! " he cried out at 
 length, and then, dropping his stick and waving 
 his hands over his head, he cried, " ' Beautiful 
 for situation, the jye of the whole earth is
 
 36o CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 Mount Zion.' Hay, chaps ! Clough End's a 
 coil hoile [coal house] to it." 
 
 Then he entered the chapel yard, passing 
 his new cottage without noticing it, and after 
 looking eagerly and delightedly at everything, 
 he turned to the graves, and cried as if address- 
 ing the occupants — 
 
 " John Longvvorth ! Juddy ! Mother ! Wot 
 dun yo' think o' this ? It's welly as foine as 
 yo'r own place, isn't it ? ' Beautiful for situation, 
 the jye of the whole earth is Mount Zion.' " 
 
 But Silas' excitement had exhausted him ; 
 and as he sank down upon a gravestone, Long 
 Ben came forward and led him towards his 
 house. 
 
 Aunt Judy and Mrs. Johnty Harrop were 
 in possession, and whilst they had polished 
 up all the old bits of furniture that were 
 worth keeping, and had arranged them as 
 nearly as possible in the old places, they had 
 added a great many new things, and waited to 
 have their reward in seeing Silas' surprise. 
 
 When he approached the house and first 
 realised what had been done, his face was a 
 picture. Perplexity, astonishment, and delight 
 followed each other on his withered face, and 
 passing inside he dropped into a big arm-chair, 
 the gift of the schoolmistress, and burst into 
 sobs, crying out through his tears — 
 
 " ' Mooar nor we can ask or think.' * Mooar 
 nor we can ask or think.' "
 
 "THE ZEAL OF THINE HOUSE" 361 
 
 The opening service was a never-to-be- 
 forgotten triumph. The Chairman of the 
 District preached. The band achieved its most 
 complete success. The anthem given by the 
 united band and choir filled the preacher with 
 most satisfactory astonishment, and all the 
 visitors, with the exception of a few envious 
 Clough Enders, expressed their admiration of 
 the improvements. 
 
 After the evening service the " super " an- 
 nounced that the collections had far exceeded 
 expectations, and that, in fact, the chapel was 
 opened without a penny of debt upon it, at 
 which glad tidings congregation and choir, 
 and band and committee, and all combined 
 sent up such a Doxology that Jethro declared 
 — and surely we could have no better judge — 
 
 " Aw thowt Aw wur flooatin' into heaven." 
 
 And Jethro was nearly a prophet for others, 
 at anyrate, if not for himself, for when the 
 congregation was dispersing Aunt Judy came 
 hurrying into the vestry and beckoned Jabe 
 and his co-steward out. Silas, it appeared, had 
 been quite carried away by the last Doxology, 
 and the excitement had been too much for 
 him, so that, after opening the doors for the 
 people to pass out, he hurried to his cottage 
 and fell down in a dead swoon. 
 
 The doctor, who was, of course, on the 
 premises, was in almost instant attendance, 
 but from the first gave little hope. And Jabe
 
 362 CLOG SHOP CHRONICLES 
 
 and the rest passed in a moment from elevated 
 delight to fear and sorrow. Silas was laid on 
 a long settle, and everything that could be 
 suggested was got or done to relieve him. 
 
 After half an hour's anxious waiting he 
 moved a little, and presently opened his eyes. 
 But, instead of noticing any one, he fixed his 
 gaze on the opposite wall. 
 
 Suddenly his countenance brightened. He 
 moved his hand as though he would have 
 pointed, and cried — 
 
 " Hay, wot a big 'un ! This is niver aar 
 chapil!" 
 
 And then he paused, and presently broke 
 out again — 
 
 " Bless thi, Grace ! Has thaa come to th' 
 oppenin' ? An' yo', muther ? An' yo', John 
 Longworth ? Wait till they oppen th' dur. 
 Naa, then ! naa, then ! " and as he spoke Silas' 
 chapel doors did open, and the dear old saint 
 entered into the joy of his Lord, 
 
 THE END 
 
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