Mrs Garlick made nothing of
this. In the Five Towns they think no more of smoke than the world at
large used to think of small-pox. The smoke plague is exactly as
curable as the small-pox plague. It continues to flourish, not because
smokiness is cheaper than cleanliness--it is dearer--but because a
greater nuisance than smoke is the nuisance of a change, and because
human nature in general is rather like Mrs Garlick: its notion of
economy is to pay heavily for the privilege of depriving itself of
something--mutton or cleanliness.
However, this mayor was different. He had emerged from the revival
services with a very tender conscience, and in assuming the chain of
office he assumed the duty of setting an example. It was to be no excuse
to him that in spite of bye-laws ten thousand other chimneys and kilns
were breathing out black filth all over the Five Towns. So far as he
could cure it the smoke nuisance had to be cured, or his conscience
would know the reason why! So he sat on the borough bench and fined
himself for his own smoke, and then he installed gas ovens. The town
laughed, of course, and spoke of him alternately as a rash fool, a
hypocrite, and a mere pompous ass.
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