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Updated: May 13, 2025
The application of engraved cylinders driven by steam-power, and the discovery of a method of printing four to six colours at once with such cylinders, has as completely superseded hand-work as did the application of machinery to the spinning and weaving of cotton, and these new arrangements in the printing-works have superseded the hand-workers much more than was the case in the production of the fabrics.
The anticipation of the visit to the printing-works burned in her heart like a steady lamp that shone through the brief, cloudy interests of the moment. And Edwin Clayhanger was precisely the topic which Janet seemed, as it were, expressly to avoid.
"I think I'll miss tea, Mrs. Orgreave," she said. "Edwin Clayhanger invited me to go over the printing-works at half-past six, and it's twenty-five minutes to seven now." "Oh, but, my dear," cried Mrs. Orgreave, "why ever didn't you tell them downstairs, or let me know earlier?" And she pulled at the bell-rope that overhung the head of the bed. Not a trace of teasing archness in her manner!
The spaciousness of the market-place redeems the narrowness of the streets. With the exception of a little faint-hearted sympathy shown to Monmouth, Frome has never helped to make history. Nowadays it does a brisk trade in woollen cloth, and possesses some large printing-works, breweries, and art-metal works.
She was sorry because he had a cold and was not taking care of it.... Now they were climbing a sombre creaking staircase towards a new and remote world that was separated from the common world just quitted by the adventurous passage of the rainy yard.... And now they were amid oily odours in a large raftered workshop, full of machines.... The printing-works!... An enormous but very deferential man saluted them with majestic solemnity.
"He asked me to go and look over their printing-works to-morrow," said she quickly. Janet was taken aback. "Really!" she exclaimed, unmistakably startled. She spoke a second too soon. If she had delayed only one second, she might have concealed from Hilda that which Hilda had most plainly perceived, to wit, anxiety and jealousy. Yes, jealousy, in this adorably benevolent creature's tone.
Clayhanger on the men, if you want to know what hard is." "Mr. Clayhanger? You mean old Mr. Clayhanger?" "Yes." "But he isn't a manufacturer." "No. But he's an employer of labour." Hilda rose uneasily from her chair, and walked towards the distant, shadowed dressing-table. "I should like to go over a printing-works," she said abruptly. "Very easy," said Mr.
"Steady on!" he protested uncouthly. And then, with the most naïve ingenuousness: "Mrs. Orgreave better?" But Osmond Orgreave was not in a merciful mood. A moment later he was saying: "Has she told you she wants to go over a printing-works?" "No," Clayhanger answered, with interest. "But I shall be very pleased to show her over ours, any time."
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