. Jas. Keir Hardie's life story from pit trapper to Parliament . ccurred againI would be punished. I made no reply,I couldnt. I felt like crying. Nextmorning the same thing happened—Icouldnt tell why, but that is neitherhere nor there. It was a very wet morn-ing, and when I reached the shop I wasdrenched to the skin, barefoot and hun-gry. There had not even been a crustof bread in the house that morning. But that was pay day, and I wasfilled with hope. You are wanted up-stairs by the master, said the girl be- I therefore dismiss you, and to mak«you more careful in the future, I havedecided to
. Jas. Keir Hardie's life story from pit trapper to Parliament . ccurred againI would be punished. I made no reply,I couldnt. I felt like crying. Nextmorning the same thing happened—Icouldnt tell why, but that is neitherhere nor there. It was a very wet morn-ing, and when I reached the shop I wasdrenched to the skin, barefoot and hun-gry. There had not even been a crustof bread in the house that morning. But that was pay day, and I wasfilled with hope. You are wanted up-stairs by the master, said the girl be- I therefore dismiss you, and to mak«you more careful in the future, I havedecided to fine you a weeks wages. Andnow you may go! I wanted to speak and explainwhy I was late, but the servant tookme by the arm and led me I passed through the store the girlin charge gave me a roll and said akind word. Out in the rain I wandered round the streets most of the knew my mother was waitingfor my wages. As the afternoon wasdrawing to a close I ventured home andtold her what had happened. It seem-ed to be the last blow. The roll was. Cumnock, the scene of many of Keir Hardies triumphs hind the counter, and my heart almoststopped beating. Outside the dining-room door a servant bade me wait tillmaster had finished his prayers hewas much noted for his piety). Atlength the girl opened the door, andthe sight of that room is fresh in mymemory even as I write, nearly fiftyyears after. Round a great mahoganytable sat the members of the family,with the father at the top. In front ofhim was a very wonderful coffee boilerin the great glass bowl of which thecoffee was bubbling. The table wasloaded with dainties. My master look-ed at me over his glasses and said in apleasant voice: Boy, this is the secondmorning you have been late, and mycustomers leave me if they are keptwaiting for their hot breakfast * Four still under my vest, but soaked withthe rain. That night the baby wasborn, and the sun rose on the 1st afJanuary, 1867 over a home in whichthere w
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