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"Aw, mither, now it is the terrible auld sport ye are. She drags me out to all these things." His eyes twinkled at Maitland. "I can't find time for any study." "Hoots ye and ye're study. A doot a rale heartening scramble on the ice wad dae ye mair guid than an oor wi' yon godless Jew buddie." "She means Marx, of course," said McNish, in answer to Maitland's look of perplexity.
"I never saw him like that," said the Reverend Murdo at length. "What can be the matter with him? With him passion is darkening counsel." "Well," said Maitland, "I have found out one thing that I wanted." "And what is that?" "These men clearly do not want what they are asking for. They want chiefly war at least, McNish does."
"Mr. Matheson," said McNish, "I am always glad to discuss any matter with you in a reasonable and kindly way." "I am afraid my presence has not helped very much, Mrs. McNish," said Maitland. "I am sorry I came tonight. I did come earnestly desiring and hoping that we might find a way out. It seems I have made a mistake." "You came at my request, Maitland," said the minister.
He proceeded to read over carefully the various clauses in the demands of the allied unions, emphasizing and explaining the meaning of each clause. "First, as to wages. This is purely a matter for adjustment to the cost of living and general industrial conditions. It is a matter of arithmetic and common sense. There is no principle involved." "I don't agree with you," said McNish.
Abandoned by the growing town, forgotten by the mill owner, it was re-discovered by Malcolm McNish, or rather by his keen eyed old mother on their arrival from the old land six months ago.
"It would be an interesting experiment," said the minister. "An interesting experiment, McNish, and you are not to grunt like that. The human element, of course, is the crux here. If we had the right sort of foreman he might be trusted to be a member of the union, but a man cannot direct and be directed at the same time.
McNish, quite uninterested in the platform, was quietly taking note of the audience, with many of whom he had made a slight acquaintance. As his eye travelled slowly from face to face it was suddenly arrested. There beside her father was Annette Perrotte, who greeted him with a bright nod and smile. They had long ago made up their tiff. Then McNish had another surprise.
McNish, the meeting was not wanting in ethical interest or human passion. It was a gathering of the workers in the various industries in the town, Trade Unionists most of them, but with a considerable number who had never owed allegiance to any Union and a number of disgruntled ex-Unionists.
He disna does not think much of these games of yours. But that's anither another" McNish was careful of his speech "matter." "But what in " "I am just telling you. There is a strong, a very strong movement under way among the unions at present." "A movement? Strike, do you mean?" "It may be, or worse." McNish's tone was very grave. "And as a good union man they expect your assistance."
"What is your name, my man?" he enquired. "Ma name is Malcolm McNish. 'A doot ye have na har-r-d it. But the name maitters little. It's the question 'A'm speerin' asking at ye." Here was no amateur in the business of Grievance Committees. His manner was that of a self-respecting man dealing with a fellow-man on terms of perfect equality.
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