of the district to place their faith in
the venture had been well and truly justified. The establishment of
the co-operative had, as it turned out, coincided with the first
signs of recovery from what would afterwards be called ‘The Long
Slump’; thus the suppliers found themselves getting a greater share
of the price fetched by their butter at the same time as the price
itself was steadily increasing.
Charlie had become a supplier to the factory
for the simple reason that there was nowhere else to sell his milk.
He refused to become a shareholder, repeating his refusal over and
over again until Amy was heartily sick of the subject. She
carefully refrained from reminding him that he had never actually
been invited to become one. But although he was denied a share in
the profits of the co-operative, Charlie benefited in a modest way
from the higher prices paid for his milk.
Amy had to rely on the snippets of
information she gleaned from Lizzie or from her brothers to find
out that the factory was doing well; Charlie never discussed such
matters with her. She had hoped that the lightening of any worries
he might have had over money would cause him to mellow somewhat,
particularly towards the children, but he seemed to be as demanding
as ever, and as reluctant to praise.
Charlie had little respect for ‘book
learning’, but he still expected his sons to do at least as well as
the other children in the valley school. When Malcolm failed his
Standard Three examination at the end of 1896 Charlie delivered a
beating, but he had no words of praise for David when the younger
boy did well in the same test.
The new minister (as Reverend Simons was
still called after two years in the town) was considered something
of a scholar by his parishioners, and Amy suspected this was part
of Charlie’s continued animosity towards him. Reverend Simons’
sermons tended to contain words of more syllables than most of the
congregation felt comfortable with, but it was his subject matter
that most excited Charlie’s outrage.
‘Trying to stop a man having a drink after a
hard day’s work,’ was his constant grumble. ‘Interfering in a man’s
honest pleasures.’ For a time Amy had thought he might cease going
to church entirely, thereby curtailing her only regular outing. But
among Charlie’s crudely articulated theories on how to manage a
wife was the idea that women needed regular church-going to keep
them in a suitably cowed frame of mind. And as he did not allow Amy
to go any further than Lizzie’s house unaccompanied, that meant he
had to take her.
Charlie was not the only man irritated by
Reverend Simons’ preoccupation with the evils of alcohol. Mr
Bateson, the town’s brewer and newspaper editor, had made good his
declaration that he would not darken the door of the church again
while Reverend Simons held sway there. But the antagonism between
these two men did not stop with Mr Bateson’s absence from church.
That was just the beginning.
Mr Bateson’s reports of the fortnightly
meetings of the Ruatane Gospel Temperance and Mutual Improvement
Society, founded and chaired by the minister, could not be
described as complimentary. While the Ruatane Herald dutifully reported each meeting in language that at first glance
seemed innocuous, hints of animosity were there for anyone who
cared to search for them.
The journalistic feud started off harmlessly
enough, with disparaging comments in the Herald about the
level of education of a visiting speaker at one of the temperance
meetings, who had been more distinguished by his enthusiasm than by
the quality of his grammar. Charlie read the criticism aloud with
relish, despite the fact that Amy was quite sure he had no idea
what was wrong with the unfortunate speaker’s choice of verb
forms.
The following Sunday, Reverend Simons
denounced from the pulpit those who claimed to be above their
neighbours, taking as his text the Gospel account of the Pharisee
and the Publican. He
the venture had been well and truly justified. The establishment of
the co-operative had, as it turned out, coincided with the first
signs of recovery from what would afterwards be called ‘The Long
Slump’; thus the suppliers found themselves getting a greater share
of the price fetched by their butter at the same time as the price
itself was steadily increasing.
Charlie had become a supplier to the factory
for the simple reason that there was nowhere else to sell his milk.
He refused to become a shareholder, repeating his refusal over and
over again until Amy was heartily sick of the subject. She
carefully refrained from reminding him that he had never actually
been invited to become one. But although he was denied a share in
the profits of the co-operative, Charlie benefited in a modest way
from the higher prices paid for his milk.
Amy had to rely on the snippets of
information she gleaned from Lizzie or from her brothers to find
out that the factory was doing well; Charlie never discussed such
matters with her. She had hoped that the lightening of any worries
he might have had over money would cause him to mellow somewhat,
particularly towards the children, but he seemed to be as demanding
as ever, and as reluctant to praise.
Charlie had little respect for ‘book
learning’, but he still expected his sons to do at least as well as
the other children in the valley school. When Malcolm failed his
Standard Three examination at the end of 1896 Charlie delivered a
beating, but he had no words of praise for David when the younger
boy did well in the same test.
The new minister (as Reverend Simons was
still called after two years in the town) was considered something
of a scholar by his parishioners, and Amy suspected this was part
of Charlie’s continued animosity towards him. Reverend Simons’
sermons tended to contain words of more syllables than most of the
congregation felt comfortable with, but it was his subject matter
that most excited Charlie’s outrage.
‘Trying to stop a man having a drink after a
hard day’s work,’ was his constant grumble. ‘Interfering in a man’s
honest pleasures.’ For a time Amy had thought he might cease going
to church entirely, thereby curtailing her only regular outing. But
among Charlie’s crudely articulated theories on how to manage a
wife was the idea that women needed regular church-going to keep
them in a suitably cowed frame of mind. And as he did not allow Amy
to go any further than Lizzie’s house unaccompanied, that meant he
had to take her.
Charlie was not the only man irritated by
Reverend Simons’ preoccupation with the evils of alcohol. Mr
Bateson, the town’s brewer and newspaper editor, had made good his
declaration that he would not darken the door of the church again
while Reverend Simons held sway there. But the antagonism between
these two men did not stop with Mr Bateson’s absence from church.
That was just the beginning.
Mr Bateson’s reports of the fortnightly
meetings of the Ruatane Gospel Temperance and Mutual Improvement
Society, founded and chaired by the minister, could not be
described as complimentary. While the Ruatane Herald dutifully reported each meeting in language that at first glance
seemed innocuous, hints of animosity were there for anyone who
cared to search for them.
The journalistic feud started off harmlessly
enough, with disparaging comments in the Herald about the
level of education of a visiting speaker at one of the temperance
meetings, who had been more distinguished by his enthusiasm than by
the quality of his grammar. Charlie read the criticism aloud with
relish, despite the fact that Amy was quite sure he had no idea
what was wrong with the unfortunate speaker’s choice of verb
forms.
The following Sunday, Reverend Simons
denounced from the pulpit those who claimed to be above their
neighbours, taking as his text the Gospel account of the Pharisee
and the Publican. He
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