Sons and Lovers D. H. Lawrence (best ebook reader ubuntu txt) đ
- Author: D. H. Lawrence
Book online «Sons and Lovers D. H. Lawrence (best ebook reader ubuntu txt) đ». Author D. H. Lawrence
He was afraid of her. In a towering rage, he sat down.
When the children were old enough to be left, Mrs. Morel joined the Womenâs Guild. It was a little club of women attached to the Cooperative Wholesale Society, which met on Monday night in the long room over the grocery shop of the Bestwood Co-op. The women were supposed to discuss the benefits to be derived from cooperation, and other social questions. Sometimes Mrs. Morel read a paper. It seemed queer to the children to see their mother, who was always busy about the house, sitting writing in her rapid fashion, thinking, referring to books, and writing again. They felt for her on such occasions the deepest respect.
But they loved the Guild. It was the only thing to which they did not grudge their motherâ âand that partly because she enjoyed it, partly because of the treats they derived from it. The Guild was called by some hostile husbands, who found their wives getting too independent, the âclat-fartâ shopâ âthat is, the gossip-shop. It is true, from off the basis of the Guild, the women could look at their homes, at the conditions of their own lives, and find fault. So the colliers found their women had a new standard of their own, rather disconcerting. And also, Mrs. Morel always had a lot of news on Monday nights, so that the children liked William to be in when their mother came home, because she told him things.
Then, when the lad was thirteen, she got him a job in the Co-op office. He was a very clever boy, frank, with rather rough features and real viking blue eyes.
âWhat dost want ter maâe a stool-harsed Jack on âim for?â said Morel. âAll heâll do is to wear his britches behind out anâ earn nowt. Whatâs âe startinâ wiâ?â
âIt doesnât matter what heâs starting with,â said Mrs. Morel.
âIt wouldna! Put âim iâ thâ pit we me, anâ âell earn a easy ten shillinâ a wik from thâ start. But six shillinâ wearinâ his truck-end out on a stoolâs better than ten shillinâ iâ thâ pit wiâme, I know.â
âHe is not going in the pit,â said Mrs. Morel, âand thereâs an end of it.â
âIt wor good enough for me, but itâs non good enough for âim.â
âIf your mother put you in the pit at twelve, itâs no reason why I should do the same with my lad.â
âTwelve! It wor a sight afore that!â
âWhenever it was,â said Mrs. Morel.
She was very proud of her son. He went to the night school, and learned shorthand, so that by the time he was sixteen he was the best shorthand clerk and bookkeeper on the place, except one. Then he taught in the night schools. But he was so fiery that only his good-nature and his size protected him.
All the things that men doâ âthe decent thingsâ âWilliam did. He could run like the wind. When he was twelve he won a first prize in a race; an inkstand of glass, shaped like an anvil. It stood proudly on the dresser, and gave Mrs. Morel a keen pleasure. The boy only ran for her. He flew home with his anvil, breathless, with a âLook, mother!â That was the first real tribute to herself. She took it like a queen.
âHow pretty!â she exclaimed.
Then he began to get ambitious. He gave all his money to his mother. When he earned fourteen shillings a week, she gave him back two for himself, and, as he never drank, he felt himself rich. He went about with the bourgeois of Bestwood. The townlet contained nothing higher than the clergyman. Then came the bank manager, then the doctors, then the tradespeople, and after that the hosts of colliers. Willam began to consort with the sons of the chemist, the schoolmaster, and the tradesmen. He played billiards in the Mechanicsâ Hall. Also he dancedâ âthis in spite of his mother. All the life that Bestwood offered he enjoyed, from the sixpenny-hops down Church Street, to sports and billiards.
Paul was treated to dazzling descriptions of all kinds of flower-like ladies, most of whom lived like cut blooms in Williamâs heart for a brief fortnight.
Occasionally some flame would come in pursuit of her errant swain. Mrs. Morel would find a strange girl at the door, and immediately she sniffed the air.
âIs Mr. Morel in?â the damsel would ask appealingly.
âMy husband is at home,â Mrs. Morel replied.
âIâ âI mean young Mr. Morel,â repeated the maiden painfully.
âWhich one? There are several.â
Whereupon much blushing and stammering from the fair one.
âIâ âI met Mr. Morelâ âat Ripley,â she explained.
âOhâ âat a dance!â
âYes.â
âI donât approve of the girls my son meets at dances. And he is not at home.â
Then he came home angry with his mother for having turned the girl away so rudely. He was a careless, yet eager-looking fellow, who walked with long strides, sometimes frowning, often with his cap pushed jollily to the back of his head. Now he came in frowning. He threw his cap on to the sofa, and took his strong jaw in his hand, and glared down at his mother. She was small, with her hair taken straight back from her forehead. She had a quiet air of authority, and yet of rare warmth. Knowing her son was angry, she trembled inwardly.
âDid a lady call for me yesterday, mother?â he asked.
âI donât know about a lady. There was a girl came.â
âAnd why didnât you tell me?â
âBecause I forgot, simply.â
He fumed a little.
âA good-looking girlâ âseemed a lady?â
âI didnât look at her.â
âBig brown eyes?â
âI did not look. And tell your girls, my son, that when theyâre running after you, theyâre not to come and ask your mother for you. Tell them thatâ âbrazen baggages you meet at dancing-classes.â
âIâm sure she was a nice girl.â
âAnd Iâm sure she wasnât.â
There ended the altercation. Over the dancing there was a great strife between the mother and the son. The grievance reached its height when William said he was going to Hucknall
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