-shop. It is true, from off
the basis of the Guild, the women could look at their homes, at the
conditions of their own lives, and find fault. So the colliers found
their women had a new standard of their own, rather disconcerting. And
also, Mrs. Morel always had a lot of news on Monday nights, so that the
children liked William to be in when their mother came home, because she
told him things.

Then, when the lad was thirteen, she got him a job in the "Co-op."
office. He was a very clever boy, frank, with rather rough features and
real viking blue eyes.

"What dost want ter ma'e a stool-harsed Jack on 'im for?" said Morel.
"All he'll do is to wear his britches behind out an' earn nowt. What's
'e startin' wi'?"

"It doesn't matter what he's starting with," said Mrs. Morel.

"It wouldna! Put 'im i' th' pit we me, an' 'ell earn a easy ten shillin'
a wik from th' start. But six shillin' wearin' his truck-end out on a
stool's better than ten shillin' i' th' pit wi'me, I know."

"He is NOT going in the pit," said Mrs. Morel, "and there's an end of
it."

"It wor good enough for me, but it's non good enough for 'im."

"If your mother put you in the pit at twelve, it's no reason why I
should do the same with my lad."

"Twelve! It wor a sight afore that!"

"Whenever it was," said Mrs. Morel.

She was very proud of her son. He went to the night school, and learned
shorthand, so that by the time he was sixteen he was the best shorthand
clerk and book-keeper on the place, except one. Then he taught in the
night schools. But he was so fiery that only his good-nature and his
size protected him.

All the things that men do--the decent things--William did. He could
run like the wind. When he was twelve he won a first prize in a race;
an inkstand of glass, shaped like an anvil. It stood proudly on the
dresser, and gave Mrs. Morel a keen pleasure. The boy only ran for her.
He flew home with his anvil, breathless, with a "Look, mother!" That was
the first real tribute to herself. She took it like a queen.

"How pretty!" she exclaimed.

Then he began to get ambitious. He gave all his money to his mother.
When he earned fourteen shillings a week, she gave him back two for
himself, and, as he never drank, he felt himself rich. He went about
with the bourgeois of Bestwood. The townlet contained nothing higher
than the clergyman. Then came the bank manager, then the doctors, then
the tradespeople, and after that the hosts of c