"I don't pretend to understand the questions fully, but from Ranald's letters I have gathered that he did not consider that justice was being done either to the men or to the company. For instance, in the matter of stores--I may be wrong in this, you will correct me, Colonel--I understand it was the custom to charge the men in the camps for the articles they needed prices three or four times what was fair.""Well," said the colonel, "I guess things WERE a little high, but that's the way every company does.""And then I understand that the men were so poorly housed and fed and so poorly paid that only those of the inferior class could be secured.""Well, I guess they weren't very high-class," said the colonel, "that's right enough.""But, Colonel, if you secure a better class of men, and you treat them in a fair and honorable way with some regard to their comfort you ought to get better results in work, shouldn't you?""Well, that's so," said the colonel; "there never was such an amount of timber got out with the same number of men since the company started work, but yet the thing don't pay, and that's the trouble. The concern must pay or go under.""Yes, that's quite true, Colonel," said Mrs. Murray; "but why doesn't your concern pay?""Well, you see, there's no market; trade is dull and we can't sell to advantage.""But surely that is not your manager's fault," said Mrs. Murray, "and surely it would be an unjust thing to hold him responsible for that.""But the company don't look at things in that light," said the colonel. "You see they figure it this way, stores ain't bringing in the returns they used to, the camps cost a little more, wages are a little higher, there ain't nothing coming in, and they say, Well, that chap out there means well with his reading-rooms for the mill hands, his library in the camp, and that sort of thing, but he ain't sharp enough!""Sharp enough! that's a hard word, Colonel," said Mrs. Murray, earnestly, "and it may be a cruel word, but if Ranald were ever so sharp he really couldn't remove the real cause of the trouble. You say he has produced larger results than ever before, and if the market were normal there would be larger returns. Then, it seems to me, Colonel, that if Ranald suffers he is suffering, not because he has been unfaithful or incompetent, but because the market is bad, and that I am certain you would not consider fair.""You must not be too hard on us," said the colonel. "So far as Iam concerned, I think you are right, but it is a hard thing to make business men look at these things in anything but a business way.""But it should not be hard, Colonel," said Mrs. Murray, with sad earnestness, "to make even business men see that when honor is the price of dividends the cost is too great," and without giving the colonel an opportunity of replying, she went on with eager enthusiasm to show how the laws of the kingdom of heaven might be applied to the great problems of labor. "And it would pay, Colonel," she cried, "it would pay in money, but far more it would pay in what cannot be bought for money--in the lives and souls of men, for unjust and uncharitable dealing injures more the man who is guilty of it than the man who suffers from it in the first instance.""Madam," answered the colonel, gravely, "I feel you are right, and I should be glad to have you address the meeting of our share-holders, called for next month, to discuss the question of our western business.""Do you mean Ranald's position?" asked Kate.
"Well, I rather think that will come up."
"Then," said Mrs. Murray, unconsciously claiming the colonel's allegiance, "I feel sure there will be one advocate at least for fair and honorable dealing at that meeting." And the colonel was far too gallant to refuse to acknowledge the claim, but simply said: "You may trust me, madam; I shall do my best.""I only wish papa were here," said Kate. "He is a share-holder, isn't he? And wish he could hear you, auntie, but he and mamma won't be home for two weeks.""Oh, Kate," cried Mrs. Murray, "you make me ashamed, and I fear Ihave been talking too much."
At this point Harry came in. "I just came over to send you to bed," he said, kissing his aunt, and greeting the others. "You are all to look your most beautiful to-morrow.""Well," said the colonel, slowly, "that won't be hard for the rest of you, and it don't matter much for me, and I hope we ain't going to lose our music.""No, indeed!" cried Kate, sitting down at the piano, while the colonel leaned back in his easy chair and gave himself up to an hour's unmingled delight.
"You have given more pleasure than you know to a wayfaring man," he said, as he bade her good night.
"Come again, when you are in town, you are always welcome, Colonel Thorp," she said.
"You may count me here every time," said the colonel. Then turning to Mrs. Murray, with a low bow, he said, "you have given me some ideas madam, that I hope may not be quite unfruitful, and as for that young man of yours, well--I--guess--you ain't--hurt his cause any. We'll put up a fight, anyway.""I am glad to have met you, Colonel Thorp," said Mrs. Murray, "and I am quite sure you will stand up for what is right," and with another bow the colonel took his leave.
"Now, Harry, you must go, too," said Kate; "you can see your aunt again after to-morrow, and I must get my beauty sleep, besides Idon't want to stand up with a man gaunt and hollow-eyed for lack of sleep," and she bundled him off in spite of his remonstrances. But eager as Kate was for her beauty sleep, the light burned late in her room; and long after she had seen Mrs. Murray snugly tucked in for the night, she sat with Ranald's open letter in her hand, reading it till she almost knew it by heart. It told, among other things, of his differences with the company in regard to stores, wages, and supplies, and of his efforts to establish a reading-room at the mills, and a library at the camps; but there was a sentence at the close of the letter that Kate read over and over again with the light of a great love in her eyes and with a cry of pain in her heart. "The magazines and papers that Kate sends are a great boon.
Dear Kate, what a girl she is! I know none like her; and what a friend she has been to me ever since the day she stood up for me at Quebec. You remember I told you about that. What a guy I must have been, but she never showed a sign of shame. I often think of that now, how different she was from another! I see it now as Icould not then--a man is a fool once in his life, but I have got my lesson and still have a good true friend." Often she read and long she pondered the last words. It was so easy to read too much into them. "A good, true friend." She looked at the words till the tears came. Then she stood up and looked at herself in the glass.
"Now, young woman," she said, severely, "be sensible and don't dream dreams until you are asleep, and to sleep you must go forthwith." But sleep was slow to come, and strange to say, it was the thought of the little woman in the next room that quieted her heart and sent her to sleep, and next day she was looking her best.
And when the ceremony was over, and the guests were assembled at the wedding breakfast, there were not a few who agreed with Harry when, in his speech, he threw down his gage as champion for the peerless bridesmaid, whom for the hour--alas, too short--he was privileged to call his "lady fair." For while Kate had not the beauty of form and face and the fascination of manner that turned men's heads and made Maimie the envy of all her set, there was in her a wholesomeness, a fearless sincerity, a noble dignity, and that indescribable charm of a true heart that made men trust her and love her as only good women are loved. At last the brilliant affair was all over, the rice and old boots were thrown, the farewell words spoken, and tears shed, and then the aunts came back to the empty and disordered house.
"Well, I am glad for Maimie," said Aunt Frank; "it is a good match.""Dear Maimie," replied Aunt Murray, with a gentle sigh, "I hope she will be happy.""After all it is much better," said Aunt Frank.
"Yes, it is much better," replied Mrs. Murray; and then she added, "How lovely Kate looked! What a noble girl she is," but she did not explain even to herself, much less to Aunt Frank, the nexus of her thoughts.
