Virginia Henley Read Online Free

feet are younger than mine.”
    “I’ll serve him if I can have something to eat,” Kitty said impertinently.
    “Faith, child, there’s little enough, only a rabbit pie, but I’ll share whatever is left of it with you.”
    Kitty washed her hands and face very carefully and put on a clean apron. In the dining room Jonathan O’Reilly looked askance at Kitty in her bedraggled skirt and bare feet, carrying in the big dish with her head bent over it.
    “What’s your name?” he asked. She lifted her head up and he thought, My God, she’s got a face like a flower.
    “Kitty, milord.”
    “I remember you. Don’t think I don’t. How old are you now?”
    “Fifteen, Milord.”
    “The old Gypsy, your grandfather, has relatives in Lancashire, doesn’t he?”
    “I believe he does, milord.”
    O’Reilly’s mind was trying to smooth a path for Kitty that led directly to his bed. “Mmm, the mill is a hard place for a little wench like you, so I think I’ll make an exception in your case and find you a place in my household. You’ll make a nice little maid—that is, of course, if you know how to do as you’re told.”
    She seemed to hesitate.
    “Well, what is it? Speak up!” he shouted.
    “It’s my brother, Terrance, milord. He’s wonderful with horses, sor, You don’t suppose you could find it in your heart to make room for him too, do you?” she asked imploringly.
    He compressed his lips. “You drive a hard bargain, you little rogue.”
    She dimpled at him and he was surprised to hear himself say, “How would you like a piece of this rabbit pie?”
    “Oh, yes, please, milord,” Kitty said prettily.
    She ate so heartily, yet with the daintiness of a kitten; he was fascinated just watching her.
    “Have you no shoes?” he asked abruptly.
    “No, milord.”
    “Mmm; well, all that will be changed when we get to Bolton. Here, have some more.” He finished off the second bottle of claret he had had the foresight to bring with him. “With the proper food, we’ll soon have you filled out.”
    She scraped her plate clean and arose from the table and bobbed him a curtsy. “Milord, I’m after packing up all our belongings. If you’ll excuse me now, sor?”
    “Run along, run along. You and your brother go with your grandfather to his relations, and I’ll have the carriage sent round for you.”
    “Thank you, milord.”
    She took the empty pie plate back to Maggie, who said with dismay, “He’s eaten the lot!”
    “Yes, isn’t he a glutton?” ventured Kitty before she slipped out the back door.
    Patrick sat in the mill office with the foremen and overseers. He was patiently trying to explain why he was in favor of abolishing the Half-time Factory System in the three mills that the O’Reillys owned. These mills were known as the Falcon, the Egyptian and the Gibraltar. Jonathan O’Reilly had named them thus so they would not sound Irish.
    “It’s sheer exploitation of child labor. After working in this damp, dirty, noisy atmosphere from six in the morning until twelve noon, these exhausted children are expected to go into the classroom. They probably fall asleep over their books, instead of learning anything.”
    One of the men spoke up, “If we didn’t employ children, there would be more work available for men and women, but Mr. O’Reilly, your father, would never pay the extra wages that would entail.”
    Patrick raised his hand and said, “I’ll handle my father. You tell the workers there will be no more children after theend of the month. Now, Saturday noon I want the machinery pulled down and cleaned properly. Workmen are coming in to install mechanical devices to the looms in the form of a warp-stop motion. It will up production considerably. I realize the workers always struggle to retain traditional methods of production against oncoming thrusts of technocracy and automation, but it will be your job to convince them of the wisdom of these changes. They will be immeasurably better off in