THE MACHINE.

Otago Witness, Issue 2805, 18 December 1907, Page 90

THE MACHINE.

By J. J. Bell, Author of "Wee Macgreegor," etc.

For three years David Fergus had stood on the same spot in the long avenue* of clanking, grinding/ squealing machinery, watching the same machine and the discs that .fell from it. A disc with a flaw had come to be a God-fiend ; and vet, of late, be had allowed more than one flaw to pass undetected. Sometimes he bated the machine. Once when it chanced to break down he stood and laughed at it. On a osrtain sultry evening in early July David watohed the last disc of the day drop on the bench in front of him, and gave a big sigh of relief as the factory norn sounded mightily, high above him. Yet he lingered by the machine till the last motn«nt, donned his coat leisurely, and was told to hurry up and olear out" by his foreman. On the third floor of another of the long high buildings of the enormous sewing machine factory a girl 'dallied till she also was mildly reprimanded. Jessie Baxter went slowly down the stairs, and on reaching the open air she saw David Fergus coming towards her. Presently they met, and, without speaking, fell into step and went towards the gate through which the thousands of men ■and girls employed in the factory were trooping. So the twain lagged until the road for a hundred yards or so in front of them wae deserted.

"Well, Davie?" she said at last, glancing up at the young man, whose good-looking face wai decidedly sulky at the moment. They had been "keeping company" (or years, and Jessie vas familiar with the Tad's moods, — which were not always sunny. His eyes softened for a space ; then hardened again. "I'm sick o' \t!" he said savagely. "I'm sick o' it, Jeame, an I'm gaun to throw it up." "Oh, Dayie !" she cried softly. He had never put it so strongly before. ''I'm gftun to throw up ma job here an' gang back to the foundry. Whiles something happens in the foundry — — " "Oh, Davie!" she cried a»ain. Men sometimes got sorely hurt in the foundry, she knew, but another thought distressed her, "The wages is the same, but in the foundry a man's better nor a machine. I'll ft*rt at the foundry efter the holidays, ken the- foreman." "No' the foundry !" There was pleading ' In her voice. "No' the foundry—^please, Davie!" "What for no? There's a chance o' gettin' a pee in the foundry, ana there's nane here. Ye k«n that yersel', lass. I* micht manage to get a rise by the New Year, an' then — an' then, Jessie"— -his voice was less hard — "you an' me'll get j marrit. Eh, lass?" "Be content, whaur ye are, Davie. W$ — we can get marrit at the New Year whether ye get a rise or no. I keji fine yer wark's gey wearisome. But if ye ha© patience, yell maybe get a rise In anither way " "Na, na! There's nae rises in the factory for an or'nar' man. If I was to bide anither month I wud smash the curst machine—either that, or it wud drive me to the drink.*" i

"Davie !" TbeTe jwas pain in her voice. 'A man needs a change," he continued half apologetically. "I've kep' the teetotal for three year, an' I've nae intentions o* breaking it. Maybe ye're feart the foundry wud send me back to the drink?"

She turned her face from him. She did fear the foundry, or rather the influence of two old acquaintances of her sweetheart who still wrought there. Rightly or wrongly she bad always secretly blamed them for leading Davie into temptation.

"Ye needna be feart," he went on. "I'll ba'e nae truck wi' Alexander an' Harvey. I've seen- what drink has done for them. An — an', Jessie, Tm no' likely to forget you. Ye sba*irly dinna think that?"

"I dinna think that," she said slowly. "But I'm feart yet get — hurt in the foundry." "Hurt?" He halted abruptly and caught her arm. "Ye dinna trust me — that's what it is. ' His voice was lowered, but it shook with anger.

"I do trust ye, dearie," she answered, with something like a sob. "That's a lee!"' He dropped her arm. She flared up. 'Hoo daur ye say that to me?" she cried. "An' if ye canna trust me," he said chttingly, "it wud be a peety for ye to marry me." *" She looked at him piteously, , dumbly. She had done her best, but she had done it badly. She did not know what to say to him. She had not the words to jxpress the faotr— perhaps she was unconscious of it — that she loved him with something of a mother's love as well as with that of a sweetheart, so that she could not help trying to protect him from ever the very slightest of risks. But David, being a man, was etung by her unintentional reminder of his past failing. Gratitude and love struggled with resentment, and resentment won. "Hae ye onything mair to say?" he demanded. Again she flared up. "Naetbin* excep* what ye said yereel'," she retorted. "Guid-bye." And she walked on. He stood staring after her. Presently he started in pursuit of her. But he did not follow far. For suddenly shame struck him, so that his face grew crimson, and, wheeling about, be went blindly in the opposite direction. The fair holidays came and passed, but David and Jessie made none of the little trips together that they had discussed and promised themselves all through the spring and early summer. They did not so much as sse each other, for the girl carefully avoids the man, staying indoors practically the whole week, for she had not the heart to go anywhere on pleasure. When she returned to her place in the factory she beard from a woman that David had gone to work in the foundry. The woman was curious to know what had happened, but Jessie answered nothing, and went on polishing the eyes, of her long strings of needles. She would polish the eyes of the needles now, she told herself, till the end of everything. And that week she gently refused a wellliving young man, with the comfortable income of forty-two shillings a week, who asked her to marry him.

As for David, he found work and wages in the foundry, but nothing else. He had expected, at the worst, to find some satisfaction — the satisfaction of 'showing to Jessie that be was strong enough to withstand the old temptation. He withstood it for three weeks, but on the third Saturday he came face to face with bis old acquaintances, Alexander and Harvey. They greeted him effusively,, and the three set out for a favourite publichouse. David knew very well what It meant. Each would stand a drink in turn— again — again. He would bejjrunk by nightfall. In an hour or two he would slip down the slope it had taken him three years to climb. But he didn't care — he'd be banged if he cared ! ' . . .

They entered the publkhouse. "Wnat are ye for, Davie!" asked Harvey, almost affectionately. ri Whusky." Presently fourpence-worth of whisky was on the counter before David. "Well* here's luck!" said Alexander, grinning and raising bis glass. He winked oovertly at Harvey. , "Prosperity!" muttered Harvey, fumbling the word slightly. He slapped David's shoulder.

"Oh !" groaned David, under bis breath ; and, turning abruptly, he fl«d from the shop.

» ♦ • • . It was * month before be managed to get back to the sewing-machine factory, wbere he was presently handling the discs with a sort of affection.

Several evenings passed ere be caught sight of Jessie, but at last he met her. "I heard ye was back," she said, as they met. "_Ay ; I'm back," he replied. "What's brooht ye back?" inquired the girl shyly, after ft long silence. "What wey did ye speak to me the nicht; f" be asked. "Was ye no' gaun to speak to me?" David shook his head. "I'm no' fit to speak to ye," he said sadly. 'NO' fit?" she cried, and her voice shook, "Ye're fit to speak to the Queen! Oh, Davie. forgi'e me ! I've beard aaboot what happened that Seturday wd* you an' Alexander an' Harvey. Say ye fOTgi'e me!" 'Ttaud yer tongue, lass!" he said, looking very uncomfortable. "It was you that kep r me stTacht," be added with an effort. "Na, na! It was yersel' z an' I'm that ashamed that I ever-- — ' ''Say nae malr aboob it!" be commanded.

Jessie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "But what brocht ye back to UlO factory!" she asked presently..

"Ye're ower inquisitive, Miss Baxter," ' he replied, in pleasant mockery.

A couple of months later the arch- ' inspector of such things brought an extremely badly flawed disc to David. 'Look here !" he said. "This'll never do. 'Thai's the second to-day." "I wudna wonder," returned David calmly. Tha inspector stared. "I'm for none o' yer sauce," he exclaimed indignantly. "What does it mean?"

"It just means that I'm no 1 a machine," said David, with a sweet smile.

And just as the inspector was on the point of exploding the young man added — "I'm gettin' marrit the nicht." "Oh, well " mumbled the inspector, relaxing. And it was well.