The Paper Cap. A Story of Love and Labor

“Then don’t thee say a word about the man. Thy words hev been so good, so wonderfully good, that I will not hev meaner ones mixed up with them. They may come to-morrow after law and money talk, but not after thy loving, heartening promises. No! No!”

“Well, then, go home and tell Annie, and let that weary Reform Bill business drop out of thy mind.”

“Reform was a great need. It was a good thing to see it come, and Grey and Brougham hev proved themsens to be great men.”

“I don’t deny it, and it is allays so ordered, that in all times, great men can do great things.”

With a light heart and a quick step the squire hurried back to the Clarendon. He had been given to drink of the elixir of life, the joy of work, the pleasure of doing great good to many others, the feeling that he was going to redeem his lost years. He had not walked with such a light purposeful step for twenty years, and Annie was amazed when she heard it. She was still more amazed when she heard him greet some acquaintance whom he met in the corridor. Now Annie had resolved to be rather cool and silent with her husband. He had overstayed his own time nearly two hours, and she thought he ought to be made to feel the enormity of such a delinquency; especially, when he was hurrying their departure, though she had yet a great many little things to attend to.

She quickly changed her intentions. She only needed one glance at her husband to make her rise to her feet, and go to meet him with a face full of wonder. “Why! Antony! Antony, whativer hes come to thee? Thou looks – thou looks – ”

“How, Annie? How do I look?”

“Why! Like thou looked – on thy wedding day! Whativer is it, dear?”

“Annie! Annie! I feel varry like I did that day. Oh, Annie, I hev got my life given back to me! I am going to begin it again from this varry hour! I am going to work, to be a big man of business, Annie. I’m going to build a factory for a thousand power looms. Oh, my wife! My wife! I’m so proud, so happy, I seem to hev been dead and just come back to life again.”

“I am so glad for thee, dear. Who, or what, hes brought thee this wonderful good?”

“Sit thee down beside me, and let me hold thy hand, or I’ll mebbe think I am dreaming. Am I awake? Am I in my right mind? Or is it all a dream, Annie? Tell me the truth.”

“Tell thy wife what hes happened, then I can tell thee the truth.”

“Why-a! thy husband, the squire of Annis, is going to build the biggest and handsomest factory in the whole West Riding – going to fill it with steam power looms – going to manufacture woolen goods for the whole of England – if England will hev the sense to buy them; for they will be well made, and of tip-top quality. Annis village is going to be a big spinning and weaving town! O Annie! Annie! I see the vision. I saw it as I came through Piccadilly. The little village seemed to be in midair, and as I looked, it changed, and I saw it full of big buildings, and high chimneys, and hurrying men and women, and I knew that I was looking at what, please God, I shall live to see in reality. Annie, I hev begun to live this varry day. I have been in a sweet, sweet sleep for more than fifty years, but I hev been awakened, and now I am going to work for the new Annis, and redeem all the years I hev loitered away through the old.”

“I am glad for thee, Antony. Glad for thee! How is tha going to manage it? I am sorry Kitty and I hev made thee spend so much good gold on our foolishness!”

“Nay, nay, I am glad you both hed all you wanted. This morning I was feeling down in the depths. I hedn’t but just money enough to take us home, and I was wondering how iver I was to make buckle and belt meet. Then tha knows I got a letter from Jo-sepha, and I went to see her, and she told me she was going to build the biggest factory in the West Riding. She told me that she hed made money enough to do this: that it was Annis money, ivery farthing of it, and it was coming to Annis, and Annis only. Then she told me what her big plans were, bigger than I could fairly swallow at first, and oh, dear lass, she asked me to be her partner. I hev to give the land and my time. She does all the rest.”

“Thy sister hes a great heart. I found that out this winter.”

“Ay, and she found out that thou were a deal sweeter than she thought before, and she opened her heart to thee, and Dick, and Kitty.”

“Will she live in Annis?”

“Not she! No one could get her away from London, and the house her Admiral built for her. She will come down to our regular meeting once a quarter. She won’t bother thee.”

“No, indeed, she won’t! After this wonderful kindness to thee, she can’t bother me. She is welcome to iverything that is mine, even to my warmest and truest love. The best room at Annis Hall is hers, and we will both love and honor her all the days of our lives.”

“Now, then, I am quite happy, as happy as God and His gift can make a man; and if I was a Methodist, I would go to their chapel at once and tell them all what a good and great thing God hed done for them, as well as mysen. Thou sees they were thought of, no doubt, when I was thought of, for God knew I’d do right by His poor men and women and little childer.”

“I hope, though, thou wilt stand by thy awn church. It hes stood by thee, and all thy family for centuries. I wouldn’t like thee to desert the mother church of England.”

“Howiver can thou speak to me in such a half-and-half way. My prayer book is next to my Bible. Why-a! it is my soul’s mother. I hev my collect for ivery day, and I say it. On the mornings I went hunting, sometimes I was a bit hurried, but as I stood in my bare feet, I allays said it, and I allays did my best to mean ivery word I said.”

“I know, my love – but thou hes lately seemed to hev a sneaking respect for Mr. Foster, and Jonathan Hartley, and Methodists in general.”

“Well, that is true. I hev a varry great respect for them. They do their duty, and in the main they trusted in God through these past black years, and behaved themsens like men. But I should as soon think of deserting thee as of deserting my Mother Church.”

“I believe thee, yet we do hev varry poor sermons, and in that way Mr. Foster is a great temptation.”

“I niver minded the sermon. I hed the blessed Book of Common Prayer. And if the church is my soul’s mother, then the Book of Common Prayer is mother’s milk; that it is, and I wonder that thou hes niver noticed how faithfully I manage to say my collect. My mother taught me to say one ivery morning. I promised her I would. I am a man of my word, Annie, even to the living, and I would be feared to break a promise to the dead. I can’t think of anything much worse a man could do.”

“My dear one! This day God hes chosen thee to take care of his poor. We must get back to Annis as quickly as possible, and give them this hope.”

“So we must, but I hev a meeting to-morrow at ten o’clock with Josepha’s banker, business adviser, her lawyer, and her architect. I may be most of the day with his crowd. This is Monday, could tha be ready to start home on Thursday, by early mail coach?”

“Easily.”

“That will do. Now then, Annie, I hed a varry good dinner, but I want a cup of tea – I am all a quiver yet.”

Later in the evening Dick came in, and joined them at the supper table. He looked at his father and mother and wondered. He saw and felt that something good had happened, and in a few minutes the squire told him all. His enthusiasm set the conversation to a still happier tone, though Dick was for a moment dashed and silenced by his father’s reply to his question as to what he was to look after in this new arrangement of their lives.

“Why, Dick,” answered the squire, “thy aunt did not name thee, and when I did, she said: ‘We’ll find something for Dick when the time is fitting.’ She said also that my time would be so taken up with watching the builders at work, that Dick would hev to look after his mother and the household affairs, till they got used to being alone all day long. Tha sees, Dick, we hev spoiled our women folk, and we can’t stop waiting on them, all at once.”

Dick took the position assigned him very pleasantly, and then remarked that Kitty ought to have been informed. “The dear one,” he continued, “hes been worried above a bit about the money we were all spending. She said her father looked as if he had a heartache, below all his smiles.”

Then Dick thought of the political climax that Harry had spoken of, and asked himself if he should now speak of it. No, he could not. He could not do it at this happy hour. Nothing could be hindered, or helped, by the introduction of this painful subject, and he told himself that he would not be the person to fling a shadow over such a happy and hopeful transition in the squire’s life. For Dick also was happy in a change which would bring him so much nearer to his beautiful and beloved Faith.

Indeed it was a very charming return home. The squire seemed to have regained his youth. He felt as if indeed such a marvelous change had actually taken place, nor was there much marvel in it. His life had been almost quiescent. He had been lulled by the long rust of his actually fine business talents. Quite frequently he had had a few days of restlessness when some fine railway offer presented itself, but any offer would have implied a curtailment, which would not result in bettering his weavers’ condition, and he hesitated until the opportunity was gone. For opportunities do not wait, they are always on the wing. Their offer is “take or leave me,” and so it is only the alert who bid quick enough.

After a pleasant, though fatiguing drive, they reached Annis village. Their carriage was waiting at the coach office for them, and everyone lifted his cap with a joyful air as they appeared. The squire was glad to see that the caps were nearly all paper caps. It was likely then that many of his old weavers were waiting on what he had promised in his speech to them. And it filled his heart with joy that he could now keep that promise, on a large and generous scale. He saw among the little crowd watching the coach, Israel Naylor, and he called him in a loud, cheerful voice, that was in itself a promise of good, and said: “Israel, run and tell Jonathan Hartley to come up to the Hall, and see me as soon as iver he can and thou come with him, if tha likes to, I hev nothing but good news for the men. Tell them that. And tell thysen the same.”

In an hour the squire and his family and his trunks and valises and carpet bags were all at home again. Weary they certainly were, but oh, so happy, and Dick perhaps happiest of all, for he had seen Mr. Foster at his door, and as he drove past him, had lifted his hat; and in that silent, smiling movement, sent a message that he knew would make Faith as happy as himself.

I need not tell any woman how happy Mistress Annis and her daughter were to be home again. London was now far from their thoughts. It was the new Annis that concerned them – the great, busy town they were to build up for the future. Like the squire, they all showed new and extraordinary energy and spirit, and as for the squire he could hardly wait with patience for the arrival of Jonathan Hartley and Israel.

Actually more than twenty of the old weavers came with Jonathan, and Annie found herself a little bothered to get sittings for them, until the squire bethought him of the ballroom. Thither he led the way with his final cup of tea still in his hand, as in loud cheerful words he bid them be seated. Annie had caused the chairs to be placed so as to form a half circle and the squire’s own chair was placed centrally within it. And as he took it every man lifted his paper cap above his head, and gave him a hearty cheer, and no man in England was happier at that moment than Antony Annis, Squire of Annis and Deeping Hollow.

“My friends!” he cried, with all the enthusiasm of a man who has recaptured his youth. “I am going to build the biggest and handsomest factory in Yorkshire – or in any other place. I am going to fill it with the best power looms that can be bought – a thousand of them. I am going to begin it to-morrow morning. To-night, right here and now, I am going to ask Jonathan to be my adviser and helper and general overseer. For this work I am offering him now, one hundred and fifty pounds the first year, or while the building is in progress. When we get to actual weaving two hundred pounds a year, with increase as the work and responsibility increases. Now, Jonathan, if this offer suits thee, I shall want thee at eight o’clock in the morning. Wilt tha be ready, eh?”

Jonathan was almost too amazed to speak, but in a moment or two he almost shouted —

“Thou fairly caps me, squire. Whativer can I say to thee? I am dumbfounded with joy! God bless thee, squire!”

“I am glad to be His messenger of comfort to you all. These are the plans for all who choose to take them, my old men having the preference wheriver it can be given. To-morrow, Jonathan and I will go over my land lying round Annis village within three miles, and we will pick the finest six acres there is in that area for the mill. We will begin digging for the foundation Monday morning, if only with the few men we can get round our awn village. Jonathan will go to all the places near by, to get others, and there will be hundreds of men coming from London and elsewhere, builders, mechanics, and such like. The architect is hiring them, and will come here with them. Men, these fresh mouths will all be to fill, and I think you, that awn your awn cottages, can get your wives to cook and wash for them, and so do their part, until we get a place put up for the main lot to eat and sleep in. Jonathan will help to arrange that business; and you may tell your women, Antony Annis will be surety for what-iver is just money for their work. Bit by bit, we will soon get all into good working order, and I am promised a fine factory ready for work and business in one year. What do you think of that, men?” Then up went every paper cap with a happy shout, and the squire smiled and continued:

“You need not fear about the brass for all I am going to do, being either short or scrimpit. My partner has money enough to build two mills, aye, and more than that. And my partner is Annis born, and loves this bit of Yorkshire, and is bound to see Annis village keep step with all the other manufacturing places in England; and when I tell you that my partner is well known to most of you, and that her name is Josepha Annis, you’ll hev no fear about the outcome.”

“No! No! Squire,” said Jonathan, speaking for all. “We all know the Admiral’s widow. In one way or other we hev all felt her loving kindness; and we hev often heard about her heving no end of money, and they know thy word, added to her good heart, makes us all happy and satisfied. Squire, thou hes kept thy promise thou hes done far more than keep it. God must hev helped thee! Glory be to God!”

“To be sure I hev kept my promise. I allays keep my promise to the poor man, just as fully as to the rich man. Tell your women that my partner and I are going to put in order all your cottages – we are going to put wells or running water in all of them, and re-roof and paint and whitewash and mend where mending is needed. And you men during your time of trouble, hev let your little gardens go to the bad. Get agate quickly, and make them up to mark. You knaw you can’t do rough work with your hands, you that reckon to weave fine broadcloth; but there will be work of some kind or other, and it will be all planned out, while the building goes on, as fast as men and money can make it go.”

“Squire,” said Jonathan in a voice so alive with feeling, so strong and happy, that it might almost have been seen, as well as heard, “Squire, I’ll be here at eight in the morning, happy to answer thy wish and word.”

“Well, then, lads, I hev said enough for to-night. Go and make your families and friends as happy as yoursens. I haven’t said all I wanted to say, but I shall be right here with you, and I will see that not one of my people suffer in any way. There is just another promise I make you for my partner. She is planning a school – a good day school for the children, and a hospital for the sick, and you’ll get them, sure enough.”

“Squire, we thank thee with all our hearts, and we will now go and ring t’ chapel bell, and get the people together, and tell them all thou hes said would come to pass.”