CHAPTER X

HOW TO DRESS ON NOTHING A YEAR

The two men left the station and began to walk sharply toward the town, which was close at hand. The first street they entered was deserted, but evidence of the strike lay open to the shamed sky. Lamps, it is true, still stood erect, but their glass was shattered; missiles and rubbish littered the roadway, shop-windows had not a pane left whole, and here and there makeshift screens of boards replaced or protected the windows. It was a scene of ruin, complete and piteous. The most curious feature was that not a soul was in the street: everything was still and lonely.

In the next street a similar spectacle met them—ruin and solitude. In a third, the same. In a fourth, the same. It was as if a battle had taken place, or rather as if the town had been sacked and cleared by an invading army, which had passed on like a destroying angel, leaving signs of its progress, and signs alone.

"This is deuced odd," was Tony's comment—"deuced odd. The ruin does not surprise, for everything is possible in this age of Socialism. But is the spirit of curiosity dead? If so, that will be 'the end of all things.' Surely everybody can not be murdered or afraid to come out. Surely we shall light upon at least one brand from the burning—some pathetic, interesting, interested spectator. If it were but a man drunk in the gutter...."

"Yes, it's rum," agreed his companion. "But listen! I think I hear a noise over there to the right. Shall we go and see?"

Tony stopped, friendliness in his heart.

"I think you're right," he said. "But look here! Judging by what we've seen, these chaps won't stick at trifles. Personally I don't much care what happens, so long as I can get interested; but you're different—you're an older man. Hadn't you better try the station?"

The little man blushed.

"Damn it, sir!" he began, and then stopped. "I beg your pardon—I haven't sworn these twenty years, but I feel somehow different to-day. What I mean is that I'm not a graybeard yet, and if you can be interested, I can. Come on!"

"All right," said Tony, warming to him. "Awfully sorry I said that. I say, you are a sportsman——"

The other blushed again, but this time with pleasure. "Thank you. That is the second time I have been called a sportsman within twenty-four hours. I ... I rather like it, Mr.——. By the way, have you any objection to telling me your name?"

"Not a bit, if you'll tell me yours."

The little man considered a moment, and then——

"My name is Hedderwick," he said frankly. "I feel I can trust you to keep your own counsel."

"Of course. Mine is Tony Wild."

They had been walking quickly in the direction of the noise, which every minute became clearer. At last, guided by their ears, they entered a street where their curiosity was satisfied. At the farther end was a seething crowd of men, a few women, and a rabble of gutter children. They were the strikers, or some of them, all excited and not a few drunk. As the guard had said, they were evidently somewhat out of hand, and the looting of the public-houses had not tended to assuage their wrath. Fired by their alleged grievances, liquor, eloquence and the electricity of a mob, they had spent the last few hours in wrecking the town. The police had done all that was possible to stem the attack and vindicate law and order, but they were hopelessly outnumbered. Reinforcements and soldiers had been telegraphed for, and were even now marching, but for the time being the local forces had retired to talk over the return match and exchange of lint and arnica. The strikers were in possession and thoroughly enjoying themselves.

Tony, whispering to his companion, "Keep close and don't get into arguments: pretend to be a labor leader, if you like!" pushed his way slowly through the crowd. Robert, his heart bumping with fear, interest and excitement, followed him; he was afraid, but not too afraid, and he felt that his holiday was proving a success. When they reached the center of interest, after a tardy but good-humored progress, they were rewarded with a sight neither had hoped for.

The thickest of the crowd was swaying round a large shop. It was termed the emporium, and almost merited the title. The happy anarchs had smashed every atom of the plate-glass, careless of the rate-payers, and then had proceeded to abolish such of the fittings as offended their esthetic sense. In the center of the window-space, standing on a chair, was a cheerful striker, conducting a kind of auction. More strictly, it was a charitable distribution, for no one made any effort to pay for the goods received. The shop was a miniature Whiteley's, embracing everything from a perambulator to a parachute, and it was odd to watch the incongruity of some of the articles distributed. One man, for example, was given a child's feeding-bottle, and accepted it without demur; with a bellow of approval he seized it by the rubber tube and whirled it round, shouting, till the tube broke and the bottle flew off at a tangent. Another received half a pianola—the whole was too much for him to carry, and kindly friends helped him to bisect it with clubs and bars. A third, bemused with beer, staggered off with a dozen volumes of Comparative Religion, murmuring brokenly. "Suthin' f'r the kids to read," and dropping at intervals his burden in the mud. It was a pleasant illustration of good feeling and unselfishness.

A few moments after Tony and Robert had penetrated to the front, ready-made clothing was being distributed with a lavish hand. The auctioneer would seize a suit, or a part of a suit, from the nearest peg, and with humorous or profane comments throw it to one of the crowd. "Who wants a waistcoat?" he was crying presently; "a regular fancy article, double-wove, stamped on every bleeding yard! Just the thing to fetch the girls! Just the thing to wear of a Sunday! and when the bloom's orf you can use it as an 'earth-rug or a tea-cozy! Just the thing—here y'are!" and he flung it to an outstretched hand.

"Now's our chance if we want a change!" whispered Robert. He meant it as a joke, and trembled as he saw Tony's face light up with amusement. "Don't be a fool!" he whispered at once. "These chaps are simply mad——"

"Could you oblige me with a suit?" asked Tony suavely, but in the clearest tones. The crowd turned at the university accent. Hitherto they had been too busy to notice the new arrival, but as they observed the opera hat, the smart broadcloth and starched linen, they recognized the presence of one of the upper classes and looked black. A murmur arose, growing in strength and hostility, and a voice suggested with painful clarity the dissection of his internal organs.

Tony took in the situation: another minute, and grumbling threats might be exchanged for action of an unpleasant kind; there was not a moment to lose. "Let me show you a thing, comrades!" he said brightly; and before the smoldering wrath could burst into flame he took off his hat and smote it. The fabric collapsed with a ridiculous klop, and the crowd, taken by surprise and ready to laugh at the mere trifle, roared. Tony spun it into the air with a careless grace, far over the heads of the throng; and as all eyes were fixed on its trajectory he pushed his way forward. "A moment, please!" he urged, shouldering on toward the shop. "By your leave, sir! Excuse me, friend! Beg pardon, brother!" And behold! he was standing beside the auctioneer.

The latter glared his enmity, refusing to budge, but Tony took no heed. All trace of boredom gone, his eyes aglow with eagerness, he gesticulated for silence. The strikers, not wholly recovered from their surprise, postponed, at least for the time being, the suggested vivisection, and waited for Tony to justify himself. He was a fluent speaker, and lost no time in beginning.

"Comrades!" he cried, "you see me as I am! I am in the unhappy position of being without a hat and in evening dress. Unlooked-for events put me in a train this morning, and it was not until the train had started that I realized my absurd costume. What was I to do? Chance settled the question. Chance brought me here into your delightful neighborhood, and what do I find? A good fairy, as it were, distributing clothes for nothing!" At this point a voice called for "Cheers for the——fairy!" which were heartily given. The fairy, unused to badinage, retired from the rostrum, and Tony was quick to jump up. "You see, comrades, that I got a rise: may you soon get the same—may you get what you are asking for!" A tornado of cheers covered his corollary, "viz., six months hard," uttered in an undertone. Feeling was shifting a little in his favor now, and he swept on. "Here, I thought, is my opportunity! I am an outcast, dressed in the ridiculous garb civilization imposes on her sons—the pampered scions of the aristocracy! You have seen me discard my allegiance to the dukes: the crushing of the hat was symbolical. I hate the petty trammels of the curled and scented darlings of the rich! If you wish—if you will allow me to annex one of the admirable and useful suits of reach-me-downs—nine and elevenpence ha'penny off the peg—I will discard the remnants of an obsolete feudalism. My coat shall go! My waistcoat! Even my——"

A prude cried "Shame!" Tony seized upon the word liked a practised ranter.

"Yes!" he cried warmly, "it is a shame that I should be forced to wear these loathsome garments when self-respect urges me to assume a manlier garb. May I take it that I have your assent? I put it to the meeting that I forthwith st—take what I want." He paused for breath, but they were dumb before this extraordinary creature. He hurried on. "Carried unanimously. Thank you, comrades, for this mark of appreciation and esteem. Behold!" He tore off his coat and waistcoat and trod upon them. "See how I trample the badge of servitude! Observe!" He discarded his nether apparel, knowing that he could not stick at trifles: the crowd's mood might turn if he gave it time. Luckily, his audacity was rewarded, for the audience roared with brutal joy at Tony's remarkable appearance. Without hesitation he snatched a suit from several that hung at hand, selecting the quietest he could see, talking furiously as he put it on. "And what now? See! a transformation! A man clothed in sensible dress! Hurrah for the social revolution! Hurrah for communizing the means of production and distribution—especially distribution! And all the rest of the dear old claptrap," he added sotto voce as he leaped nimbly down.

In the thunderous applause that followed the impassioned harangue Tony slipped his arms through Mr. Hedderwick's, and they were allowed to make good their escape. They walked in silence till they were clear of the crowd, and then Robert paused.

"Mr. Wild, you were simply splendid!" he said in awestruck tones. "You're one of the best chaps I've ever met."

Tony chuckled, tired but pleased.

"Not a bad effort, was it? But, by jove! I was in a funk half the time."

"So was I," confessed Robert. "I began to think I might have to use this." He pulled a revolver out of his pocket and showed it. Tony crowed with pure joy.

"Good lord, man! You've got a pistol! How perfectly splendid! What on earth do you carry a pistol for? Do tell me—please!"

Mr. Hedderwick walked on in silence for a minute, evidently weighing some problem. Presently he gave a gulp of decision.

"Mr. Wild," he said, "I haven't known you very long, but I seem to have known you for years. What I've seen has interested me—impressed me, and I like you. You know a little about me, that I'm off for a holiday on unusual lines, but unless you agree to my proposal I shan't tell you any more. You, it appears, are a free agent, young, with nothing to do. I think we might enjoy ourselves much more together than apart. In any case, if we found it didn't suit we could separate. If you feel like adventuring for a few days I think there may be a little fun. I can't promise it, but I think so. If you agree, I'll tell you the rest when we get to The Happy Heart."

"One question," said Tony, "and don't be offended. Do you want any money?"

Mr. Hedderwick thought for a moment and frowned. Then he smiled.

"I have two and eightpence in my pocket," he said frankly. "I came out in a hurry. I could get more if I wanted, but I don't mean to try, for I have no wish to be traced yet. I'm not a cadger or a confidence-trickster. If you care to finance me till we return, so much the better for me. If not, well, I'll do without and rough it somehow. I don't mean to miss my holiday."

Tony smiled. This Hedderwick seemed an admirable fellow.

"What and where is The Happy Heart?" he asked.

"An inn at Shereling where I mean to stay."

"Forward, then, to The Happy Heart. I wish I'd bagged some boots, too. These pumps are simply cruel."

They set out once more toward the station.