The Frobishers/Chapter 17

FOOTINGS

On reaching No. 16, Joan was at once aware that something had gone wrong. Several girls, on their way home from bank, had dropped in, and were standing in perplexity looking at Sibyll, who sat crying in a rocking-chair by the hearth, whilst the good-natured Bessie Callear was kneeling beside her, attempting vainly to tranquillise her.

Joan could read mortification and ill-temper in her sister's face, and she saw that the well-intentioned efforts of Bessie and such as seconded her but aggravated the evil. She accordingly at once proceeded to create a diversion.

"Girls," she said, "glad to see you all again, and I have got a trifle for every one of you&mdash;just to show that I had you in my mind whilst I was away. You can have buttered toast as much as you can manage, Bessie! And you, Polly, shall have your slice of bread with butter laid on with a trowel. And you, Essie Gott, can stick a big pat into a mealy potato. Look! there is a pound for each in the back kitchen, done up in white muslin. As to my sister, you must excuse her. She is tired out and unhappy. Remember that she has had a hard day, leaving her old home, so that the best place for her is bed, and the best medicine a good sleep."

The girls rushed into the back kitchen, where the butter was ranged; and Joan took occasion to go to her sister and whisper&mdash;

"Do not be put out; I will dismiss them in two minutes. They really mean well, and are come to welcome you."

"Is this a public-house or a parish club?" asked Sibyll peevishly. "I did hope that if we had ever so small a house, we should have it to ourselves. To be mobbed in this way is intolerable."

Joan could not answer, for the girls returned in exuberant delight, and insisted on kissing her. Nothing she could have given them would have caused greater pleasure.

"There's one over," said Polly; "you take my advice and send it down with your respects to Lena Battersby. She is to take you on as 'prentice in the painting-room; she'll receive it as an attention, and you'll be the gainer for that."

"I will certainly do so," said Joan.

"Then, mind you write on a slip, 'With Miss Frobisher's compliments and kind regards to Miss Battersby.' I'll take it to her. She don't live in our street."

This was cheerfully agreed to. Then the guests departed, full of smiles and thanks.

When the sisters were left to themselves, Sibyll assumed an air of injured innocence. She was the youngest, and must accordingly submit, but she was constrained to remark that she thought she might have been consulted, at least considered, when Joan selected a place of habitation, and companions. It was no obligation binding on a sister to be friends with the acquaintances of her sister; on the contrary, usually each selected her own associates. She must say that from what she had seen of Joan's mode of living, she regarded it as peculiar. Of course these friends of hers had brothers, and where these girls entered there their male relations would thrust themselves. Then a condition of affairs would be reached that would be worse than peculiar, one that the rector of their parish at home would reprobate, one that would make her dear father turn in his grave.

Joan bore this grumbling good-humouredly and without contradiction.

As the following day was Sunday, she endeavoured to get Sibyll to resolve whether she preferred going to church in the morning or in the evening, as one of the twain must be at home to prepare the early dinner. Joan had some difficulty in getting her sister to come to a decision. Finally, however, Sibyll said that very possibly she might attend divine worship in the morning, as she was convinced of her incapacity to execute the most ordinary kitchen work.

When Sunday morning came, Joan undertook the preparations for the meal, and Sibyll, who did not leave her room till late, described herself as being too tired, and too afraid of losing her way, and too much ashamed of her condition, to care to go to church at all.

On Monday morning Joan's work at the "bank" was to begin. She rose before daylight, made herself a cup of cocoa, laid the fire for Sibyll, put on the kettle, and started for the pottery works.

One of the girls there employed, Essie Gott, called for her, so as to introduce her. Mr. Mangin would not be at the office so early; moreover, it was quite unnecessary that she should report herself to him. The bailie, or foreman, had been told to expect her, and Lena Battersby awaited her.

The women working at ground-laying and the assistants to the dippers wear overalls, a loose white dress that completely covers the gown, sleeves included, and they wear flat caps of the same material and colour, in shape like those worn by French men-cooks. The dress is by no means unbecoming&mdash;and a workshop presents a fresh and pleasant aspect, with the white figures moving in it, themselves like animated pieces of Dresden ware.

The first thing to be done on entering the works is to deposit the tin containing the breakfast in its proper place, where, on a stove, it can be kept warm, and then those engaged on the dangerous branches of the work assume their overalls.

In the shops of nearly every description, men and women, youths and young girls work together, and in some departments a man is served by two lasses. In the transfer and colour-dusting rooms, and in the warehouse, women predominate, whereas only men are engaged in the stacking of an oven and in the firing.

A brief account of the processes in a pottery may be here given.

After the clay has been thoroughly prepared, it is given to the "thrower," who fashions upon the wheel plain spherical articles, assisted by a woman called a "baller," who works up the requisite quantity of clay, and passes it to him in lumps.

Irregularly shaped vessels are made in moulds by "pressers," as also articles with raised or incised ornament. Those who press plates are called "flat pressers," whereas the "hollow-ware pressers" are such as make tureens, vases, and the like.

The handles and spouts of cups and jugs and teapots are made separately, and are applied after the vessels have been turned to smooth them.

Each kind of work is done by a separate department of workmen, termed "plate makers," "handlers," etc., according to the articles they make.

The "turner" shapes and roughly smooths the vessel on the wheel, and it is then taken to the "greenhouse," or drying-house, where it is thoroughly freed from moisture.

Then, when furnished with its requisite adjuncts and dry, it is "towed" by women. This is the polishing of the ware, plates, cups, bowls, saucers, etc., before they are sent to the biscuit fining. The scouring raises much dust, which, if great precaution be not used, is inhaled by the operatives; and it is in this process that so much injury is done to the respiratory organs.

Since 1894 it has been imperative to employ fans for the creation of a draught which shall remove the dust, by drawing it away.

Pressed or moulded ware requires no polishing of the surface, except the seams left by the joints of the moulds, which have to be scraped away, and these are removed whilst the clay is still moist. When the article has been smoothed, and is dry, it is sent to the oven, where it is burnt, and leaves it as biscuit china, not so called because twice baked (biscuit), but because it bears a fancied resemblance to biscuit in consistency.

If the articles be of the commonest description they now receive their enamel decoration; but all the better-class work is coloured upon the "glost." To glaze the ware it is referred to the dipper, a man who plunges it into a liquid mixture in which lead predominates; and which, being opaque, covers the whole surface, and, if already painted, obscures the colouring.

He then hands the dipped article to girls, who carry it away to be cleaned after the dipper, and then to be dried, after which it is passed into the glost oven, when, subjected to heat, the opaque flux is resolved into a vitreous glaze.

The ware, on leaving the glost oven, is&mdash;if not of the commonest character&mdash;transferred to the colouring shops, where the coloured borders to plates, jugs, etc., and floral patterns on tea and coffee pots and cups are applied. Colour in a fluid condition is floated on an engraved metal plate, kept hot, and then the surface of the disc is carefully cleaned, leaving the pigment only in the depressions. To this, paper is next applied, which is pressed on the metal, and when withdrawn carries the colour with it, transferred to its surface. A young girl thereupon cuts the paper as required, passes it to another girl, who applies the strips or pieces to the article that has to be decorated, and presses it with a rubber so as to ensure adhesion. Then the paper is washed away.

This process is that of "transfer," and the article thus treated is again submitted to fire, in the kiln, which fuses the colours that are mixed with a flux, and combines them with the body of the vessel to which they have been applied. But "transfer" is not the sole method employed. It is comparatively harmless to those engaged upon it.

The mischief is done in the colour-dusting.

Sometimes the entire surface of the vessel has to be coloured, with the exception, it may be, of some floral decoration. How this is done, by oiling the surface and powdering the colour on with little pads of cotton wool, has been already described by Polly Myatt, and need not here be repeated.

If a broad band of colour be required on a circular article, as a plate or bowl, the medium is applied with a brush, or "pencil," as the local term is, whilst the vessel is spinning on a "wheel."

Colour is afterwards dusted on. This is called the "oil and dust" process. But if the pattern is to be of an irregular shape, the "stencil" is applied. A floral or other free pattern is never ground-laid but applied at once with a pencil, and such a process is perfectly harmless. Ground-laying is only for broad flat surfaces of colour or for majolica.

The deadly nature of the colour-dusting has called for the interference of Government; in 1894, rules were made that were imposed on occupiers and operatives. But these were hardly carried out with the strictness necessary for their success, and they were evaded&mdash;especially in the small workshops.

Again, in 1898, the Home Office issued rules, which, however, were not made compulsory, but were accepted by all the large firms and many of the smaller. Further rules were settled by arbitration in 1898, and came into force on January 1, 1899. If these rules be loyally carried out, and the operatives themselves are careful, then much of the mischief wrought by the lead and dust, as described in this story, will have come to an end.

One admirable rule determined upon, is that a certified surgeon shall visit and examine all the women and young persons engaged in the dangerous processes once a month, and he is empowered to order suspension from employment. Moreover, no person under fifteen years of age is now permitted to be employed in any of those processes which are especially harmful to young constitutions.

Whether the rules will be faithfully applied, everywhere, time will show. At present every case of lead-poisoning that comes into the hospitals, or under the notice of a doctor visiting private houses, has to be reported and duly investigated. But the public must be constantly on the alert against evasion of regulations and neglect of wholesome provisions.

Painting with liquid colour is harmless. This is performed by men and women. The highest class work is done by men, and artists of great talent are employed on this work, and are highly paid. A skilled artist will receive from one to fifteen pounds or more for decorating a vase or dessert plate.

But the technique of the painting is one that requires experience to acquire.

Colours change in the firing, and the painter has to bear in mind this transmutation, and has to apply his colours as he knows that they will eventually turn out after having been subjected to heat in the kiln, not as they appear when he lays them on.

Moreover, the medium is not easy of manipulation, and the glazed surface is difficult to treat.

Sometimes a piece before it is highly finished has to undergo repeated firings to fix the several paintings and final touches that have to be applied before it is considered complete; and it is this that renders such articles eminently costly.

By degrees "transfer" is driving true art farther into the background. But mechanical work such as that is no substitute for hand painting, in the eye of any man of taste. It is, of course, cheap, and that is its sole recommendation.

The painting is entirely in the hands of men, that is to say, the art painting, but women are employed to put in lesser sprigs and flowers, and are paid by the number they can do in a day.

Joan laboured under a fond delusion when she supposed that she would be taken on as an artist; but that she had yet to learn. The hope that she might some day do better than work at that which was mechanical buoyed her up.

When Joan entered the workroom, she saw that she was at once an object of curiosity. She had inquired of Polly whether it would be expected of her that she should pay her footing, and Polly had answered&mdash;

"Certainly&mdash;it would be shabby not to do so." But she had failed to inquire what amount would be considered suitable.

As several girls came about her, Joan, with a flutter of the heart, held out a couple of sovereigns.

She had brought her old liberal ideas with her, and could hardly have supposed that a form would have sufficed. What is usually done, when a new hand comes into the shop, is for her to give a trifle, and the rest of those in it contribute their coppers, and with the sum all unite to have a simple tea. Sometimes they wait till several have paid their "footings," so as to have a great affair. But at the best it is very simple. It grows out of the widespread idea that a common meal serves as a friendly introduction of the new-comer to her future companions. The cup of tea is with these girls what the salt is to the desert Arab.

To Joan this was, or seemed to be, a most eventful occasion&mdash;a stepping into a new life, the beginning of working for her own livelihood, and it did not for a moment occur to her that what she offered was excessive. Divided up, the sum would be but a few shillings apiece&mdash;a cheap purchase of goodwill.

"What's the meaning of this?" asked Essie, looking at Joan's extended palm.

"I wish to pay my footing," said Joan falteringly; "is it too small a sum?"

"Small!" echoed Essie. "Take it back. We don't want your money. I say, girls, look at her! She wants to pay her footing with gold&mdash;and her father, a farmer, died bankrupt, and the landlord distrained, and sold the very bed from under her and her sister&mdash;and left them nothing but what they stood up in."

It was plain to Joan that a myth relative to her fortunes was in process of evolution.

"All these two girls have got," proceeded Essie, "is just some shillings kind friends scraped together to start them in this place. She&mdash;this one&mdash;has had to pay a month in advance for her house, and to furnish it, and she has been giving a lot of us real country butter."

"And butter is at one and fourpence," threw in a girl. "And here she comes and offers us two sovereigns for footings. Put them back in your pocket, and bring out half a crown; not one penny more will we have."

"Really," said Joan, looking round, "things are not so bad with me as Essie has represented. I can very well pay."

"It won't do," said Lena. "Then if another girl came, she'd be ashamed to be able to give only a shilling."

"It will never do," said several. "It will spoil everything. We only want to be friendly. We don't ask for money, and we won't have it&mdash;put that back."

"Well, then," said Joan, "then you shall have a florin or half a crown, and no more. But you must allow me my own way in one thing, if you have your own in this."

"What is that?"

"We are drawing near to Christmas. Polly Myatt tells me that holly is not to be got near here, and that what is brought into the market is poor stuff with few berries, and is very dear. I expect a hamper from my old home&mdash;the farm Essie spoke of," a flicker of a smile passed over her lips, "a hamper to be sent me previous to Christmas, full of holly well set with scarlet drops. Allow me to have the pleasure, as a token of my goodwill, to present everyone here with a sprig for your windows and mantelshelves."