San Marcos free press. [volume] (San Marcos, Tex.) 1877-1892, 1878-03-16


So tenderly, so delicately Mile gave
her charity, that there was only deepest
gratitude awakened without the CALLING
sense of obligation. She left more than
sufficient for some weeks, and promised
to send delicacies for the invalid.
No word of herself passed her lips I'M
til they were once more in the narrow
street.
"Oh, Uncle Mare" she said, "can
it be true that he is so hard, so false to
mep'
"Wait," was the brief reply.
They went into the wide courtyard
in whose space stood the four great fac
tories, the joint property of Marcus
Wilkinson and Cyril Ormsby, long be-
fore divided by the entirely opposite
management of these two into two dis
tinct departments-one entirely under
the control of the elder, the other of the
younger man. .,.... ......
Wilkinson's absurd soft-hearted-
ness" as Cyril mentally characterized
it, had made this division absolutely
necessary.
But it was not into his own kindly
governed, well ordered departments that
Marcus Wilkinson led his ward. He
turned into small room, where pale
man was busily writing, and at the
same time overlooking long room,
where about 70 girls were at work be-
fore busily whirling machinery. "Good
morning, Watkins" the old gentle
man said. 81 was in hopes that you
were taking holiday"
"Thank you, sir" was the reply, in
a detected tone. 81 can't well quit
work, sir. There's the wife and six
little ones, you see."
"Have you told Mr.. Ormsby the doc
tor says your life depends upon few
weeks of rest and pure ARP"
eyes, sir. He's not keeping me but
he says if go he must fill my place
and that means starvation for my fami-
ly. I.could never get another situation,
as feeble as am now" ........
elbow long have you been here, Mr..
Watkins?" rF ..t .a... ..
"Seventeen years, sir. I was with old
Mr.. Ormsby before you came, sir.' I,
ga faithful servant seventeen years."
said Mr.. Wilkinson, in low tone;
land few weeks rest may save his
life."
At this moment Mile shrank little I
nearer her guardian. Through the ,
window from which Mr.. Watkins over I
looked the loom-room, she could see ,
Cyril Ormsby, walking briskly about, ]
his voice harsh and imperative, finding =,
fault here and there, and keenly scrutin- 8
izing every item of the work. Not a ,
face in the long room was frightened i
by the presence of the master. Fingers G
worked more rapidly, eyes were fasten- /
ed persistently upon the looms, and /
every one seemed aware of stern task r
masters gaze. But Mr.. Wilkinson I
obeyed the mute petition expressed in &
The looks of his ward, and led Mile out +
INTO the wide passage again, to another /
work-room. r
1t were too tedious task to follow /
every step of these two as they passed a
rom room to room, everywhere meet i
NO some assurance of Mr.. Wilkinson's o
own hold upon the hearts of the Q
hands," and their terror of Cyril t.
)rmsby's harshness. t
Out again amongst the squalid homes, a
where her guardian had no control, but b
bestowed his kindly charity without os- h
entation; and here, more eloquently ii
han ever, Mile heard how cruel u
nockery were all the schemes of charity Il
md philanthropy that had been poured RI
nto her ears. 1t needed no spoken h
words from her guardian to tell her that Il
he noble words uttered to win her were Il
nut those of hypocrisy, which knew how a
could best plead its cause with her. e.
Inc and another, turning to Mr.. Will al
inson as to friend, unaware of the b.
Orture of their words to the kindly lady p
eside him, told of cruel exactions of al
york, in sickness or trouble, of closest b
alculation of time, of small wages and 81
eavy rents. IT
eff we won't live here and pay, we 81
ct no work in the factories!" one said, Il
'hen asked why he did not seek more W
ealthy quarter. c
81 am doing overtime to pay for my d
hilu'S funeral ~ one said ssfor lost tho 81