A Modern Tragedy (19 page)

Well, expenses would have to be cut down somehow, that was all, decided Arnold, pretending hard to himself that the situation was quite ordinary, that he was equal to it and it had not shaken him. Setting his jaw, he bent over his figures again and applied himself to the problem. At first he found he could not perform the simplest operations of addition and subtraction, but he forced his reluctant mind to the task, and presently it seemed to function much as usual. His own salary and his father's, as directors of the Limited Company of Messrs. Lumb, had already suffered drastic reductions—they
had economised on the household, on maids; on Reetha's schooling, on his sister's allowance; on their sober pleasures, on dress. He had deposited his largest insurance policy as cover for a further overdraft and surrendered another for immediate expenses. The office staff had volunteered to accept lower pay rather than be discharged, and this had already been arranged. But further severe cuts were obviously necessary. Dyson Haigh's salary must go at once, ought to have gone long ago, thought Arnold, scowling; let that young whippersnapper up at Heights keep his father—do him good. And Rosamond, too—she's earning. They're better off than we are. Indignation against the Haighs warmed his blood, and he proceeded more cheerfully. He went over all his calculations again, twice; because at the bottom of his heart he knew the conclusion which he must reach, had indeed already hinted it to his father; and they both disliked it so much that he wished to avoid reaching that conclusion if it could possibly be avoided. Action of too disagreeable a nature was involved. But it was no use shirking it; the economy seemed to Arnold inevitable and justified. The men's piece-work rates must go.

He did not wish to have to propose a cut in the rate, partly on general principles, and partly because the last time he had been forced to a cut, eighteen months ago when business began to be so bad, though the union officials themselves had been very decent about it, he had had a fearful row with the Valley Mill shop-steward, Milner Schofield, who accused him of the most abominable crimes and asked him sarcastically how soon they might expect another lowering in the rate. “You cut it when we earn too much, you cut it when we earn too little,” he said. Arnold, in a fury, had practically promised that he wouldn't ask for another cut—and now here he was faced with the necessity, as it seemed to him.

He had been so exasperated by Milner at the time that he
had made up his mind to get rid of him as soon as he could without being accused of victimisation. But after the fuss had died down and he had regained his temper, he remembered what a good workman Milner was—he had a head on him, could think for himself; and then old Mr. Lumb had kept on reminding him how Milner was the son of Isaiah Schofield, who had married one of the Lumb's menders on the very same day as his employer's wedding to Arnold's mother, and been the Valley Mill foreman for thirty years; and how the lad Milner had come straight to the Lumbs from school, as a half-timer, and stayed there ever since, and so on. And then Arnold had bethought himself that Harry was a decent reliable chap, if not too bright, and he would be awfully upset if Milner left—and so, taking one thing with another, Arnold had just let the thing slide, and Milner was still at Valley Mill, tentering. But now Arnold wished he had got rid of the Schofields. For one thing, one man and a boy could do the Schofields' work at the tentering easily; two men did it now—at full union wages and piece rates—only because Milner and Harry had grown up at Valley Mill, and Arnold didn't like to sack them.

The Lumbs were noted among small firms for paying good wages, and the piece-work rates had brought the men really large sums weekly during the post-war boom. It seemed to Arnold only fair that as the men had profited by the firm's prosperity, so they should share the firm's adversity. They should all, he and his father and the office staff and the men, pull in their belts and try to weather the storm. But he knew in advance that Milner wouldn't see it like that. He knew what would happen: he would write to the men's union, and they would reply that they would lay his proposals before his men and then interview him; and presently after much telephoning, a date for the interview would be fixed, and the president or secretary of the local branch of the union and two other men—“They daren't come alone,” thought Arnold
contemptuously: “They won't trust each other round the corner”—would arrive to see him, and ask for the shop-steward to be sent for; and Milner would be fetched up from the mill, highly excited and breathing fire and class-feeling, and he would stigmatise all Arnold's proposals as having a grossly unfair incidence on the men, and Arnold would be irritated by his long words and lose his temper, and the interview would end in general strain and a tendency to shout. And a few days later he would write to the union again, asking what their decision really was, and the union would write to him in a mollifying tone, implying that there was still much to be discussed, and after much telephoning a date would be fixed for the interview, and the local president and another man or two would appear at Valley Mill, and so on and so on, through weeks of tedium and irritation.

Arnold sighed and went through all his figures again; but the alternative remained clear. He must either reduce his wages bill, find more trade, or go bankrupt.

In these hard times there was no more trade to be had; and to begin cutting prices to secure it was a species of treachery to his fellow-dyers which in any case he couldn't afford. He decided to cut down the Lumbs' salaries yet again, cease Dyson's altogether, and attempt to make his employees see reason—for if he went bankrupt, all of them would be out of work, with very little prospect of ever being in again. He also made up his mind to act at once, without waiting for his father's consent. Mr. Lumb, as he grew older, grew also more testy and irascible, more bewildered by modern conditions, and less inclined to adapt himself to them. He had objected to the adoption of piece-work rates because they were new to Valley Mill; he would object equally strongly to their abandonment. Arnold did not resent his father's irritability; he saw in it the natural effect of age upon an open, kindly, vigorous temper very like his own, and did not think himself
unduly burdened because he often had to wear down Mr. Lumb's opposition to some necessary measure by much repetition. Indeed, he was proud of his father's still robust health and valid will, his stout, heavy frame and his formidable obstinacy; they contrasted agreeably in his mind with, for example, the querulous collapse of Dyson Haigh.

But now he could not afford the time necessary to convince his father; any further delay would be simply suicidal. He must act at once, thought Arnold, who was not a man to delay action because it was disagreeable; his father would accept the accomplished facts. Indeed as regarded Dyson, it would probably be a kindness to spare Mr. Lumb the necessity of making so painful a communication to his old friend; while Mr. Lumb's tone to unions was inclined to be too warm and peremptory, though towards individuals he was sympathetic enough.

Thinking thus, Arnold extracted from the safe the printed memorandum of the agreement between masters' and men's associations arrived at in 1918; and having studied its terms, he drew a sheet of paper towards him, and began to compose a letter to the union concerned.

“I shall have to see Milner Schofield about it first,” he thought, “but I may as well draft the letter now while it's, quiet and father's not about.”

Dear Sir
, he wrote with many crossings-out and substitutions:

Owing to the difficult times through which we are passing? and to meet the competition we are encountering, we feel that it is essential, at all events for a period, to go on time-work
.

Upon mentioning this to our shop-steward, he requested us to write to you
.

“Because that's what he will do,” said Arnold grimly. “Only in more emphatic terms.”

When last we made an arrangement we definitely stated we should not expect to make another cut in the piece rates, but circumstances are such that something must be done. We suggest, therefore, either the entire suspension of the piece rates, and return to day rates, for twelve months, or a special reduction of 10 per cent on the piece rates for twelve months; the position to be reviewed at the end of that period
.

Perhaps you will see our people and ascertain which they prefer?

In any case, this letter is to be taken as giving 3 calendar months' notice for the termination of the present agreed rates, as required by the 1918 agreement
.

This letter Arnold laboriously typed out on the office machine, and signed:
Yours faithfully, pp. W. H. LUMB & CO. LTD., Arnold Lumb, Managing Director
.

He felt it was a good letter, calm and firm, showing clearly his reasons for the step he was obliged to take, without too much whining. The strain of its composition had exhausted the resources of his diplomacy, however; and the letter which he wrote to Dyson Haigh, enclosing a cheque for a month's salary in lieu of notice, and explaining the impossibility of retaining his services any longer, was curt and cold.

He retained both letters in his pocket till he should have discussed the proposed cuts with Milner and some of the older men on the following morning.

This interview, which he held while his father was out on an errand invented by Arnold, turned out exactly as he had expected. At the first mention of the return to time-rates, Milner's eyes flashed fire and his nostrils dilated contemptuously; then with a cold sneering look on his face he observed that it was a matter for the union, and repeated this in the intervals of Arnold's remarks
ad nauseam
. Meanwhile the other men sniffed, looked about the room, and shuffled their feet awkwardly. It seemed to Arnold that they would like
to discuss the matter in detail with him, but dared not say anything while the shop-steward was there.

Presently Mr. Lumb's footsteps were heard without, and Arnold, with a sigh, dismissed the men to their work, saying that he would write to the union.

The whole mill immediately buzzed with the news of the suggested cuts, and Arnold posted both letters himself in the lunch hour.

As he drove his father home that night, he broached the subject of lowering the wages bill more definitely than he had yet done, and bore Mr. Lumb's objections with good temper, knowing that the matter was already in hand.

“But why not just lower a few of the men?” argued Mr. Lumb. “You don't want to reduce the wages of men we've had for years.”

“You know perfectly well you can't do things that way nowadays, father,” repeated Arnold patiently. “They all hang together—it's all or none.”

Mr. Lumb snorted with exasperation.

Two days later, on a morning of heavy snow-fall, Arnold received replies to both his attempts at economy. The first note he opened on tackling his correspondence that morning was written in a large straggling hand which he did not recognise; it proved to be Mrs. Haigh's.

Dear Mr. Arnold
, she wrote:

Thank you for your letter and the cheque. I am not showing these to my husband, as he is not equal to any business now, and I am afraid of upsetting him. We have an arrangement by which my son signs all his papers
.

I quite understand that it is impossible for him to remain a nominal member of your staff any longer; indeed, I should have mentioned this to you before, but hardly liked to do so without his express instructions
.

I thank you for all the courtesy and consideration you
have always shown to all of us, and I trust that, in spite of the circumstances which have clouded its end, both you and Mr. Lumb will always have the same affectionate regard for my husband's long association with the firm as he feels himself
.

Yours very sincerely,

Emily Haigh
.

“Rosamond wrote that, I'll be bound,” said Arnold grimly, turning over the leaves. “And her mother copied it. She began on her own and got stuck, so Rosamond wrote the rest and she copied it. Mrs. Haigh wouldn't know those words.
Circumstances which have clouded its end, nominal members, express instructions, the same affectionate regard
. Aye! That's Rosamond, right enough!”

A sudden passion shook him, but whether of love for the girl, or hate, he did not know. Angrily he threw down Mrs. Haigh's letter, reflecting as he did so that he should now have to break the news of his action in the matter to his father—a disagreeable task, especially with Mr. Lumb already so much upset about the wage cuts.

He opened the next envelope and drew out a sheet of substantial paper, which bore the printed heading of his men's union.

Dear Sir
, he read in close typescript:

In reply to your letter of the 2nd. in which you suggest going back on to day rates or a special reduction of 10 per cent for 12 months, I will put your proposal before your employees at the earliest possible date, and after reporting to them will suggest dates for an interview with you at which meeting I shall then be in a position to report their findings
.

“Oh, damn the whole West Riding!” exploded Arnold.

The letter was reasonable enough and, indeed, just what he had expected, but the vistas of glib official correspondence,
tiresome interviews and interminable hagglings which it opened before him made him feel quite sick. A heavy colour flooded his tired face, and on a sudden irresistible impulse, he put both letters together, and tore them violently across and across. The words: “for love or money” suddenly arose from some obscure corner of his mind and mocked him. “They've got mixed up nowadays,” thought Arnold sourly, “have love and money. You can't have one without the other, seemingly. Well!”

He stalked off down into the mill, paused in front of the Schofields, and, though he knew it was unwise, could not refrain from saying in a thick angry tone;