The underworld: The story of Robert Sinclair, minerWelsh, James C.
General
The underworld: The story of Robert Sinclair, miner
Welsh, James C.
Coal miners -- Fiction; Coal mines and mining -- Fiction
The talk of the two men worked like magic upon the impressionable mind
of young Robert, who sat listening. Long after all had retired for the
night he lay awake, his little mind away in the future, living in the
earthly paradise which had been conjured up before him by the warm,
inspiring sentences of this miners' leader, and joyful in the
contemplation of this paradise of happy humanity, he fell asleep. Could
he have foreseen the terrible, heartbreaking ordeals through which
Smillie often had to pass, still clinging with tenacity to the gleam
that led him on, praying sometimes that strength would be given to keep
him from turning back; of the strenuous battle he had, not only with
those he fought against, but of the greater and more bitter fights he
too often had with those of his own class whom he was trying to save;
and of the fights even with himself, it would have raised Smillie still
more in the estimation of this sensitive-hearted collier laddie.
CHAPTER VII
ON THE PIT-HEAD
"Hooray, mither, I've passed the examination, an' I can leave the school
noo!" cried Robert one day, breaking in upon his mother, as she was
busily preparing the dinner. She stopped peeling the potatoes to look up
and smile, as she replied: "Passed the fifth standard, Robin?" she said,
lovingly.
"Ay," said the boy proudly, his face beaming with smiles. "It was quite
easy. Oh, if you had just seen the sums we got; they were easy as
winking. I clinked them like onything."
"My, ye maun hae been real clever," said Mrs. Sinclair encouragingly.
"Sammy Grierson failed," broke in Robert again, too full of his success
to contain himself. "He couldna' tell what was the capital of
Switzerland! Then the inspector asked him what was the largest river in
Europe, an' he said the Thames. He forgot that the Thames was just the
biggest in England. I was sittin' next him an' had to answer baith
times, an' the inspector said I was a credit to the school. My, it was
great fun!" and he rattled on, full of importance at his success.
"Ay, but maybe Sammy was just nervous," said his mother, continuing her
operations upon the potatoes, and trying to let him see that there might
have been a cause for the failure of the other boy to answer correctly.
"Ach, but he's a dunce onyway," said the boy. "He canna spell an easy
word like 'examination,' an' he had twenty-two mistakes in his dictation
test," he went on, and she was quick to note the air of priggish
importance in his utterance.
"Ay, an' you're left the school now," said Mrs. Sinclair, after a
pause, during which her busy fingers handled the potatoes with great
skill. "Your faither will be gey pleased when he comes hame the day,"
she said, giving the conversation a new turn.
"Ay, I'll get leavin' the school when I like, an' gaun to the pit when I
like."
"Would ye no' raither gang to the school a while langer?" observed the
mother after a pause, and looking at him with searching eyes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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