Patience Wins | Page 7

that Uncle Dick was on the move, and the next moment tap, tap, tap, came three blows on my wall, which I knew as well as could be were given with the edge of a hair-brush, and I replied in the same way.
"Ha, ha!" cried Uncle Bob, "if they are going to give us fried ham like that for breakfast--"
"And such eggs!" cried Uncle Jack.
"And such bread!" said Uncle Dick, hewing off a great slice.
"And such coffee and milk!" I said, taking up the idea that I was sure was coming, "we won't go back to London."
"Right!" said Uncle Dick. "Bah! Just as if we were going to be frightened away by a set of old women's tales. They've got police here, and laws."
The matter was discussed until breakfast was over, and by that time my three giants of uncles had decided that they would not stir for an army of discontented workmen, but would do their duty to themselves and their partner in London.
"But look here, boys," said Uncle Dick; "if we are going to war, we don't want women in the way."
"No," said Uncle Jack.
"So you had better write and tell Alick to keep on the old place till the company must have it, and by that time we shall know what we are about."
This was done directly after breakfast, and as soon as the letter had been despatched we went off to see the works.
"I shall never like this place," I said, as we went down towards the town. "London was smoky enough, but this is terrible."
"Oh, wait a bit!" said Uncle Dick, and as we strode on with me trying to take long steps to keep up with my companions, I could not help seeing how the people kept staring at them. And though there were plenty of big fine men in the town, I soon saw that my uncles stood out amongst them as being remarkable for their size and frank handsome looks. This was the more plainly to be seen, since the majority of the work-people we passed were pale, thin, and degenerate looking little men, with big muscular arms, and a general appearance of everything else having been sacrificed to make those limbs strong.
The farther we went the more unsatisfactory the town looked. We were leaving the great works to the right, and our way lay through streets and streets of dingy-looking houses all alike, and with the open channels in front foul with soapy water and the refuse which the people threw out.
I looked up with disgust painted on my face so strongly that Uncle Bob laughed.
"Here, let's get this fellow a bower somewhere by a beautiful stream," he cried, laughing. Then more seriously, "Never mind the dirt, Cob," he cried. "Dirty work brings clean money."
"Oh, I don't mind," I said. "Which way now?"
"Down here," said Uncle Dick; and he led us down a nasty dirty street, worse than any we had yet passed, and so on and on, for about half an hour, till we were once more where wheels whirred, and we could hear the harsh churring noise of blades being held upon rapidly revolving stones. Now and then, too, I caught sight of water on our right, down through lanes where houses and works were crowded together.
"Do you notice one thing, Cob?" said Uncle Dick.
"One thing!" I said; "there's so much to notice that I don't know what to look at first."
"I'll tell you what I mean," he said. "You can hear the rush and rumble of machinery, can't you?"
"Yes," I said, "like wheels whizzing and stones rolling, as if giant tinkers were grinding enormous scissors."
"Exactly," he said; "but you very seldom hear the hiss of steam out here."
"No. Have they a different kind of engines?"
"Yes, a very different kind. Your steam-engine goes because the water is made hot: these machines go with the water kept cold."
"Oh, I see! By hydraulic presses."
"No, not by hydraulic presses, Cob; by hydraulic power. Look here."
We were getting quite in the outskirts now, and on rising ground, and, drawing me on one side, he showed me that the works we were by were dependent on water-power alone.
"Why, it's like one of those old flour-mills up the country rivers," I exclaimed, "with their mill-dam, and water-wheel."
"And without the willows and lilies and silver buttercups, Cob," said Uncle Jack.
"And the great jack and chub and tench we used to fish out," said Uncle Bob.
"Yes," I said; "I suppose one would catch old saucepans, dead cats, and old shoes in a dirty pool like this."
"Yes," said Uncle Dick, "and our wheel-bands when the trades'-union people attack us."
"Why should they throw them in here?" I said, as I looked at the great deep-looking piece of water held up by a strong stone-built dam, and fed by a