The fact was that, owing to depression of trade, lack of employment, and rigorous weather, public security in the Five Towns was at that period not as perfect as it ought to have been. In the stress of hunger the lower classes were forgetting their manners--and this in spite of the altruistic and noble efforts of their social superiors to relieve the destitution due, of course, to short-sighted improvidence. When (the social superiors were asking in despair) will the lower classes learn to put by for a rainy day? (They might have said a snowy and a frosty day.) It was 'really too bad' of the lower classes, when everything that could be done was being done for them, to kill, or even attempt to kill, the goose that lays the golden eggs! And especially in a respectable town! What, indeed, were things coming to? Well, here was Mr. Gerald Scales, gentleman from Manchester, a witness and victim to the deplorable moral condition of the Five Towns. What would he think of the Five Towns? The evil and the danger had been a topic of discussion in the shop for a week past, and now it was brought home to them. "I hope you weren't--" said Mrs. Baines, apologetically and sympathetically. "Oh no!" Mr. Scales interrupted her quite gaily. "I managed to beat them off. Only my elbow--" Meanwhile it was continuing to snow. "Do come in!" said Mrs. Baines. "I couldn't think of troubling you," said Mr. Scales. "I'm all right now, and I can find my way to the Tiger." "You must come in, if it's only for a minute," said Mrs. Baines, with decision. She had to think of the honour of the town. "You're very kind," said Mr. Scales. The door was suddenly opened from within, and Maggie surveyed them from the height of the two steps. "A happy New Year, mum, to all of you." "Thank you, Maggie," said Mrs. Baines, and primly added: "The same to you!" And in her own mind she said that Maggie could best prove her desire for a happy new year by contriving in future not to 'scamp her corners,' and not to break so much crockery. Sophia, scarce knowing what she did, mounted the steps. "Mr. Scales ought to let our New Year in, my pet," Mrs. Baines stopped her. "Oh, of course, mother!" Sophia concurred with, a gasp, springing back nervously. Mr. Scales raised his hat, and duly let the new year, and much snow, into the Baines parlour. And there was a vast deal of stamping of feet, agitating of umbrellas, and shaking of cloaks and ulsters on the doormat in the corner by the harmonium. And Maggie took away an armful of everything snowy, including goloshes, and received instructions to boil milk and to bring 'mince.' Mr. Povey said "B-r-r-r!" and shut the door (which was bordered with felt to stop ventilation); Mrs. Baines turned up the gas till it sang, and told Sophia to poke the fire, and actually told Constance to light the second gas. Excitement prevailed.