Page 6 of The Irish Gypsy
“Have you no shoes?” he asked abruptly.
“No, milord.”
“Mmm; well, all that will be changed when weget to Bolton. Here, have some more.” He finished off the secondbottle of claret he had had the foresight to bring with him. “Withthe proper food, we’ll soon have you filled out.”
She scraped her plate clean and arose fromthe table and bobbed him a curtsy. “Milord, I’m after packing upall our belongings. If you’ll excuse me now, sor?”
“Run along, run along. You and your brothergo with your grandfather to his relations, and I’ll have thecarriage 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 Kittybefore she slipped out the back door.
Patrick sat in the mill office with theforemen and overseers. He was patiently trying to explain why hewas in favor of abolishing the Half-time Factory System in thethree mills that the O’Reillys owned. These mills were known as theFalcon, the Egyptian and the Gibraltar. Jonathan O’Reilly had namedthem 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 themorning until twelve noon, these exhausted children are expected togo into the classroom. They probably fall asleep over their books,instead of learning anything.”
One of the men spoke up, “If we didn’t employchildren, there would be more work available for men and women, butMr. O’Reilly, your father, would never pay the extra wages thatwould entail.”
Patrick raised his hand and said, “I’llhandle my father. You tell the workers there will be no morechildren after the end of the month. Now, Saturday noon I want themachinery pulled down and cleaned properly. Workmen are coming into install mechanical devices to the looms in the form of awarp-stop motion. It will up production considerably. I realize theworkers always struggle to retain traditional methods of productionagainst oncoming thrusts of technocracy and automation, but it willbe your job to convince them of the wisdom of these changes. Theywill be immeasurably better off in the long run. Now, I’ll be atthe Falcon tomorrow and the Gibraltar the next day, if you needme.”
He went into the mill yard and unlocked thegates to let himself out. “Billy, why are these bloody gates alwayslocked?” he asked the outside overseer.
“Orders, sir. I unlock the gates atfive-thirty and lock ’em again at six sharp.”
“But what if someone was late? They couldn’tget in,” Patrick pointed out.
“That’s the idea. They don’t work if they’relate. That way they aren’t late a second time. My orders are not tounlock them again until six o’clock at night.”
“Well, here’s some new orders for you, Billy.When you unlock these gates at five-thirty, don’t lock them againuntil everyone has gone home. It’s a mill, not a bloodyprison!”
Later that evening Patrick let himself intothe flat of Dolly Worthing; he had been paying for the flat thepast six months. She was a pretty blond widow, well endowed withseductive curves.
“Why, Patrick, darling, I wasn’t expectingyou tonight.”
He looked at her breasts, barely concealedbeneath the filmy material of her negligee. He cocked an eyebrowand said, “Who were you expecting?”
“Why, no one, of course. Patrick, you are avexing creature. You haven’t been here for over a week, and thenyou come in and accuse me of being unfaithful.” She poutedprettily.
“The thought never entered my mind until youput it there.” He had no illusions about Dolly. She would befaithful only as long as it suited her purpose. If she could findsomeone richer she would move along without a backward glance, hethought. But in truth he didn’t give enough credit where it wasdue, because Dolly was mad for him. He was easily the mostaccomplished lover she had ever known, even though he always kept apart of himself aloof so that never, even in their most intimatemoments, did he give himself completely. He poured himself abrandy, then pulled three or four envelopes from his breast pocketand threw them down on the sofa beside her. “What the devil arethese, Dolly?”
“My letters. When you didn’t come I wroteasking you what was wrong.”
“Do you realize how irritating it is to bepursued and questioned about my whereabouts continually?”
She moved close to him and put back her headso that her lips invited him. Instead of kissing her he sipped hisbrandy reflectively. She was piqued; determined to arouse him, sheslipped her hand down his thigh until it came to rest on the bulgeat his crotch. He was easily aroused, but not nearly so easily asshe herself. “Finish your brandy and come to bed,” she whispered.He didn’t appear to be in any hurry, so she slipped out of hernegligee and stood before him naked. If only he would besubservient as other men had been. She wanted him at her feet,declaring undying love for the favors she would grant him, but hewas too arrogant, too sure of himself for his own good. He put downhis glass and followed her into the bedroom. He undressed slowly.She couldn’t wait and helped him with avid fingers. His arms wentaround her and he kissed her slowly, expertly. She was all overhim, kissing, stroking, cupping him. He lay back with his handsunder his head.
“What’s the matter, Patrick?” she asked,breathing heavily.
“Nothing. When you’re in this mood, I mightas well lie back and let you do all the work; after all, that’swhat I’m paying you for.”
It was like a slap in the face. Hurt andangry, she withdrew immediately.
“That’s better,” he said quietly, and set towork to win her back into a loving mood. “I enjoy the pursuit,Dolly.” Afterward, as her breasts began to soften in the aftermathof pleasure, he caressed her and murmured, “What kind of a presentwould you like?”
She hesitated for only a second, “What Iwould really like, Patrick, is to go to London with you next timeyou go.”
