Demos. George Gissing

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      ‘Are you a member of the Union?’ he inquired.

      ‘With pride I profess myself a member. Some day—and that at no remote date—I may have it in my power to serve the cause materially.’ He smiled meaningly. ‘The press—you understand?’ He spread his fingers to represent wide dominion. ‘An ally to whom the columns of the bourgeois press are open—you perceive? It is the task of my life.’

      ‘What papers do you write for?’ asked Mutimer bluntly.

      ‘Several, several. Not as yet in a leading capacity. In fact, I am feeling my way. With ends such as I propose to myself it won’t do to stand committed to any formal creed in politics. Politics, indeed! Ha, ha!’

      He laughed scornfully. Then, turning to Alice—

      ‘You will forgive me, I am sure, Miss Mutimer, that I address myself first to your brother—I had almost said your illustrious brother. To be confessed illustrious some day, depend upon it. I trust you are well?’

      ‘Thanks, I’m very well indeed,’ murmured Alice, rather disconcerted by such politeness.

      ‘And Mrs. Mutimer? That is well. By-the-by,’ he proceeded to Richard, ‘I have a piece of work in hand that will deeply interest you. I am translating the great treatise of Marx, “Das capital.” It occurs to me that a chapter now and then might see the light in the “Fiery Cross.” How do you view that suggestion?’

      Richard did not care to hide his suspicion, and even such an announcement as this failed to move him to cordiality.

      ‘You might drop a line about it to Mr. Westlake,’ he said.

      ‘Mr. Westlake? Oh! but I quite understood that you had practically the conduct of the paper.’

      Richard again smiled.

      ‘Mr. Westlake edits it,’ he said.

      Mr. Keene waved his hand in sign of friendly intelligence. Then he changed the subject.

      ‘I ventured to put at Miss Mutimer’s disposal certain tickets I hold—professionally—for the Regent’s Theatre to-night—the dress circle. I have five seats in all. May I have the pleasure of your company, Mr. Mutimer?’

      ‘I’m only in town for a night,’ Richard replied; ‘and I can’t very well spare the time.’

      ‘To be sure, to be sure; I was inconsiderate. Then Miss Mutimer and my friend Harry—’

      ‘I’m sorry they’re not at liberty,’ was Richard’s answer to the murmured interrogation. ‘If they had accepted your invitation be’ so good as to excuse them. I happen to want them particularly this evening.’

      ‘In that case, I have of course not a word to say, save to express my deep regret at losing the pleasure of their company. But another time, I trust. I—I feel presumptuous, but it is my earnest hope to be allowed to stand on the footing not only of a comrade in the cause, but of a neighbour; I live quite near. Forgive me if I seem a little precipitate. The privilege is so inestimable.’

      Richard made no answer, and Mr. Keene forthwith took his leave, suave to the last. When he was gone, Richard went to the dining-room, where his mother was sitting. Mrs. Mutimer would have given much to be allowed to sit in the kitchen; she had a room of her own upstairs, but there she felt too remote from the centre of domestic operations, and the dining-room was a compromise. Her chair was always placed in a rather dusky corner; she generally had sewing on her lap, but the consciousness that her needle was not really in demand, and that she might just as well have sat idle, troubled her habits of mind. She often had the face of one growing prematurely aged.

      ‘I hope you won’t let them bring anyone they like,’ Richard said to her. ‘I’ve sent that fellow about his business; he’s here for no good. He mustn’t come again.’

      ‘They won’t heed me,’ replied Mrs. Mutimer, using the tone of little interest with which she was accustomed to speak of details of the new order.

      ‘Well, then, they’ve got to heed you, and I’ll have that understood.—Why didn’t ‘Arry go to work to-day?’

      ‘Didn’t want to, I s’pose.’

      ‘Has he stayed at home often lately?’

      ‘Not at ‘ome, but I expect he doesn’t always go to work.’

      ‘Will you go and sit with Alice in the front room? I’ll have a talk with him.’

      ‘Arry came whistling at the summons. There was a nasty look on his face, the look which in his character corresponded to Richard’s resoluteness. His brother eyed him.

      ‘Look here, ‘Arry,’ the elder began, ‘I want this explaining. What do you mean by shirking your work?’

      There was no reply. ‘Arry strode to the window and leaned against the side of it, in the attitude of a Sunday loafer waiting for the dram-shop to open.

      ‘If this goes on,’ Richard pursued, ‘you’ll find yourself in your old position again. I’ve gone to a good deal of trouble to give you a start, and it seems to me you ought to show a better spirit. We’d better have an understanding; do you mean to learn engineering, or don’t you?’

      ‘I don’t see the use of it,’ said the other.

      ‘What do you mean? I suppose you must make your living somehow?’

      ‘Arry laughed, and in such a way that Richard looked at him keenly, his brow gathering darkness.

      ‘What are you laughing at?’

      ‘Why, at you. There’s no more need for me to work for a living than there is for you. As if I didn’t know that!’

      ‘Who’s been putting that into your head?’

      No scruple prevented the lad from breaking a promise he had made to Mr. Keene, the journalist, when the latter explained to him the disposition of the deceased Richard Mutimer’s estate; it was only that he preferred to get himself credit for acuteness.

      ‘Why, you don’t think I was to be kept in the dark about a thing like that? It’s just like you to want to make a fellow sweat the flesh off his bones when all the time there’s a fortune waiting for him. What have I got to work for, I’d like to know? I don’t just see the fun of it, and you wouldn’t neither, in my case. You’ve took jolly good care you don’t work yourself, trust you! I ain’t a-going to work no more, so there it is, plain and flat.’

      Richard was not prepared for this; he could not hit at once on a new course of procedure, and probably it was the uncertainty revealed in his countenance that brought ‘Arry to a pitch of boldness not altogether premeditated. The lad came from the window, thrust his hands more firmly into his pockets and stood prepared to do battle for his freeman’s rights It is not every day that a youth of his stamp finds himself gloriously capable of renouncing work. There was something like a glow of conscious virtue on his face.

      ‘You’re not going to work any more, eh?’ said his brother, half to himself. ‘And who’s going to support you?’ he asked, with rather forced indignation.

      ‘There’s interest per cent. coming out of my money.’

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