Worthy of his Name by Eglanton Thorne

PHILIP DARNELL was determined that his work-people should not get the better of him. Since they had chosen to go out on strike, they must take the consequences of their folly. He would soon find others to fill their places. He went back to town that same day resolved to find men; and they were not hard to find. Ere the next day closed, he had engaged a sufficient number, and it was arranged that they should travel down to Rayleigh on the following day by a train which arrived there late in the evening.

Mr. Ellary had the difficult task of providing for their accommodation within the mill buildings. He could gain no help from the villagers. Everybody sympathised with the strikers, and one and all refused to stretch forth a finger in the service of Philip Darnell.

How it became known that he was sending men down to work at the mill no one could explain. Doubtless the sight of the large supplies of necessaries which kept arriving from London suggested the idea to the strikers, on the alert to guard their rights.

Every precaution Mr. Ellary could take failed to secure the strangers from a warm reception. The strikers collected and mobbed them as they came out of the station. Brickbats were thrown, and one man was seriously injured. The darkness of the night favoured the attacking party, and the village police were overpowered. Many of the new-comers were persuaded or frightened into turning back ere they reached the mill gates. The band of men whom Mr. Ellary at last succeeded in getting within was little more than half the number of those who had come to Rayleigh, and they were in a sadly disheartened frame of mind.

But though his new arrangement did not work well, Philip Darnell was not disposed to give in. He brought more men down from London, and established himself for a while at the Mill House, that he might be at hand to assist and support Mr. Ellary.

Week after week passed on, and the mill was kept going, though not without difficulty, owing to the inexperience of the new mill-hands. Meanwhile, the strikers and their families were suffering sorely. Children sickened and died, and their death was laid to the charge of Philip Darnell. When a spell of severe weather set in, and there still seemed no prospect of a termination of the strike, the general feeling of resentment towards Philip Darnell grew to a white heat. One day his effigy was carried the whole length of the village, followed by a mocking, hooting crowd, and finally burnt on the common behind the colonel's house.

Sebastian Mouncey began to fear that the mill-owner would not escape personal violence.

The clergyman did what he could to relieve the poor families in the straits they had brought on themselves; but he had no power to bring about a better state of things, since Mr. Darnell refused to listen to any mediator.

Nor was Gus idle. He had found plenty to do since he was dismissed from the mill. The colonel's house was now empty, and there was work for boys to do in weeding and hoeing the garden. But Gus had a way of finding tasks for himself in addition to those with which the vicar provided him. He went in and out of the cottages, greeted everywhere with a welcome; for since it became known that he, too, was a sufferer from Philip Darnell's tyranny and injustice, all the old friendliness towards him had revived.

If there was an over-worked mother to be helped, or a sick child to be amused, or any job to be done to which he could give his strength and skill, Gus was ready to meet the need. He was never so happy as when he was helping others.

Christmas was close at hand. It promised to be the gloomiest Christmas the villagers of Rayleigh had ever known. It was the night of the twentieth-a night long remembered at Rayleigh. Gus was sleeping in the tiny room he had to himself beneath the thatched roof of the cottage. He was never a heavy sleeper, and towards morning the melancholy howling of a dog roused hint from his slumber. The sound seemed to come from the direction of the mill. Sitting up in bed to listen, Gus was surprised to see a red glow in the sky. Was it the herald of the dawn?

He hurried to the little casement beneath the eaves. Then he saw that the glow came from behind the mill, and from it, showing dark against the copper-coloured sky, rose a thick column of smoke. As Gus gazed in bewilderment, unable at once to conceive the meaning of what he saw, a flame shot through the smoke.

Gus sprang from the window, and rushed to the top of the stairs, crying, "Fire! Fire! " Hustling on his clothes, he was abroad as soon as any one, and flew to rouse those who were sleeping at the mill. As he hurried along, he soon perceived whence the smoke came. It was not the mill, but Mill House that was in flames.

The men were quickly roused; but for a while the greatest confusion prevailed. There was a fire-engine belonging to the mill, but the new hands did not understand how to use the gear, and the firemen wert of course amongst the strikers. Even in this extremity they held back, mindful of their wrongs.

"Let him burn! " Gus heard a man say. "He has done his best to starve us; he would not care if we and our children perished. Let him burn, I say!"

"For shame, Ned! " cried Gus passionately. "Are you a man, and talk like that?"

There was no time for more words. The boy was working with an energy which put to shame every half-hearted man. Mr. Ellary and the vicar were now on the spot, issuing commands, and working so hard themselves that few could resist the contagion of their example. But work as they might, things seemed against them. The hose was out of order; there was a terrible delay ere it could be got to work. Meanwhile, in the still frosty air the fire was burning fiercely, and spreading all along the front of the house.

Gus was one of those who helped to drag the fire-escape round to the burning house. No sign of life was apparent in the front, where the fire raged fiercest. Happily there were few persons in the house.