The Old Wives Tale | Page 5

the rest of the time.
Even the majestic thought that whenever and wherever in all England a
woman washes up, she washes up the product of the district; that
whenever and wherever in all England a plate is broken the fracture
means new business for the district--even this majestic thought had
probably never occurred to either of the girls. The fact is, that while in
the Five Towns they were also in the Square, Bursley and the Square
ignored the staple manufacture as perfectly as the district ignored the
county. Bursley has the honours of antiquity in the Five Towns. No
industrial development can ever rob it of its superiority in age, which
makes it absolutely sure in its conceit. And the time will never come
when the other towns--let them swell and bluster as they may--will not
pronounce the name of Bursley as one pronounces the name of one's
mother. Add to this that the Square was the centre of Bursley's retail
trade (which scorned the staple as something wholesale, vulgar, and
assuredly filthy), and you will comprehend the importance and the
self-isolation of the Square in the scheme of the created universe. There
you have it, embedded in the district, and the district embedded in the
county, and the county lost and dreaming in the heart of England!
The Square was named after St. Luke. The Evangelist might have been

startled by certain phenomena in his square, but, except in Wakes Week,
when the shocking always happened, St. Luke's Square lived in a
manner passably saintly--though it contained five public-houses. It
contained five public-houses, a bank, a barber's, a confectioner's, three
grocers', two chemists', an ironmonger's, a clothier's, and five drapers'.
These were all the catalogue. St. Luke's Square had no room for minor
establishments. The aristocracy of the Square undoubtedly consisted of
the drapers (for the bank was impersonal); and among the five the shop
of Baines stood supreme. No business establishment could possibly be
more respected than that of Mr. Baines was respected. And though John
Baines had been bedridden for a dozen years, he still lived on the lips
of admiring, ceremonious burgesses as 'our honoured
fellow-townsman.' He deserved his reputation.
The Baines's shop, to make which three dwellings had at intervals been
thrown into one, lay at the bottom of the Square. It formed about
one-third of the south side of the Square, the remainder being made up
of Critchlow's (chemist), the clothier's, and the Hanover Spirit Vaults.
("Vaults" was a favourite synonym of the public-house in the Square.
Only two of the public-houses were crude public-houses: the rest were
"vaults.") It was a composite building of three storeys, in
blackish-crimson brick, with a projecting shop-front and, above and
behind that, two rows of little windows. On the sash of each window
was a red cloth roll stuffed with sawdust, to prevent draughts; plain
white blinds descended about six inches from the top of each window.
There were no curtains to any of the windows save one; this was the
window of the drawing-room, on the first floor at the corner of the
Square and King Street. Another window, on the second storey, was
peculiar, in that it had neither blind nor pad, and was very dirty; this
was the window of an unused room that had a separate staircase to
itself, the staircase being barred by a door always locked. Constance
and Sophia had lived in continual expectation of the abnormal issuing
from that mysterious room, which was next to their own. But they were
disappointed. The room had no shameful secret except the
incompetence of the architect who had made one house out of three; it
was just an empty, unemployable room. The building had also a
considerable frontage on King Street, where, behind the shop, was

sheltered the parlour, with a large window and a door that led directly
by two steps into the street. A strange peculiarity of the shop was that it
bore no signboard. Once it had had a large signboard which a
memorable gale had blown into the Square. Mr. Baines had decided not
to replace it. He had always objected to what he called "puffing," and
for this reason would never hear of such a thing as a clearance sale. The
hatred of "puffing" grew on him until he came to regard even a sign as
"puffing." Uninformed persons who wished to find Baines's must ask
and learn. For Mr. Baines, to have replaced the sign would have been to
condone, yea, to participate in, the modern craze for unscrupulous
self-advertisement. This abstention of Mr. Baines's from indulgence in
signboards was somehow accepted by the more thoughtful members of
the community as evidence that the height of Mr. Baines's principles
was greater even than they had imagined.
Constance