The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists Part 19

He could manage a good many parcels at once: some in each hand and some tied together with string and slung over his shoulders. Occasionally, however, there were more than he could carry; then they were put into a handcart which he pushed or dragged after him to the distant jobs.

That first winter the boy's days were chiefly spent in the damp, evil-smelling, stone-flagged paint-shop, without even a fire to warm the clammy atmosphere.

But in all this he had seen no hards.h.i.+p. With the unconsciousness of boyhood, he worked hard and cheerfully. As time went on, the goal of his childish ambition was reached--he was sent out to work with the men! And he carried the same spirit with him, always doing his best to oblige those with whom he was working.

He tried hard to learn, and to be a good boy, and he succeeded, fairly well.

He soon became a favourite with Owen, for whom he conceived a great respect and affection, for he observed that whenever there was any special work of any kind to be done it was Owen who did it. On such occasions, Bert, in his artful, boyish way, would scheme to be sent to a.s.sist Owen, and the latter whenever possible used to ask that the boy might be allowed to work with him.

Bert's regard for Owen was equalled in intensity by his dislike of Cra.s.s, who was in the habit of jeering at the boy's aspirations.

'There'll be plenty of time for you to think about doin' fancy work after you've learnt to do plain painting,' he would say.

This morning, when he had finished was.h.i.+ng up the cups and mugs, Bert returned with them to the kitchen.

'Now let's see,' said Cra.s.s, thoughtfully, 'You've put the tea in the pail, I s'pose.'

'Yes.'

'And now you want a job, don't you?'

'Yes,' replied the boy.

'Well, get a bucket of water and that old brush and a swab, and go and wash off the old whitewash and colouring orf the pantry ceiling and walls.'

'All right,' said Bert. When he got as far as the door leading into the scullery he looked round and said:

'I've got to git them three bloaters cooked by breakfast time.'

'Never mind about that,' said Cra.s.s. 'I'll do them.'

Bert got the pail and the brush, drew some water from the tap, got a pair of steps and a short plank, one end of which he rested on the bottom shelf of the pantry and the other on the steps, and proceeded to carry out Cra.s.s's instructions.

It was very cold and damp and miserable in the pantry, and the candle only made it seem more so. Bert s.h.i.+vered: he would like to have put his jacket on, but that was out of the question at a job like this. He lifted the bucket of water on to one of the shelves and, climbing up on to the plank, took the brush from the water and soaked about a square yard of the ceiling; then he began to scrub it with the brush.

He was not very skilful yet, and as he scrubbed the water ran down over the stock of the brush, over his hand and down his uplifted arm, wetting the turned-up sleeves of his s.h.i.+rt. When he had scrubbed it sufficiently he rinsed it off as well as he could with the brush, and then, to finish with, he thrust his hand into the pail of water and, taking out the swab, wrung the water out of it and wiped the part of the ceiling that he had washed. Then he dropped it back into the pail, and shook his numbed fingers to restore the circulation. Then he peeped into the kitchen, where Cra.s.s was still seated by the fire, smoking and toasting one of the bloaters at the end of a pointed stick.

Bert wished he would go upstairs, or anywhere, so that he himself might go and have a warm at the fire.

''E might just as well 'ave let me do them bloaters,' he muttered to himself, regarding Cra.s.s malignantly through the crack of the door.

'This is a fine job to give to anybody--a cold mornin' like this.'

He s.h.i.+fted the pail of water a little further along the shelf and went on with the work.

A little later, Cra.s.s, still sitting by the fire, heard footsteps approaching along the pa.s.sage. He started up guiltily and, thrusting the hand holding his pipe into his ap.r.o.n pocket, retreated hastily into the scullery. He thought it might be Hunter, who was in the habit of turning up at all sorts of unlikely times, but it was only Easton.

'I've got a bit of bacon I want the young 'un to toast for me,' he said as Cra.s.s came back.

'You can do it yourself if you like,' replied Cra.s.s affably, looking at his watch. 'It's about ten to eight.'

Easton had been working for Rushton & Co. for a fortnight, and had been wise enough to stand Cra.s.s a drink on several occasions: he was consequently in that gentleman's good books for the time being.

'How are you getting on in there?' Cra.s.s asked, alluding to the work Easton and Owen were doing in the drawing-room. 'You ain't fell out with your mate yet, I s'pose?'

'No; 'e ain't got much to say this morning; 'is cough's pretty bad. I can generally manage to get on orl right with anybody, you know,'

Easton added.

'Well, so can I as a rule, but I get a bit sick listening to that b.l.o.o.d.y fool. Accordin' to 'im, everything's wrong. One day it's religion, another it's politics, and the next it's something else.'

'Yes, it is a bit thick; too much of it,' agreed Easton, 'but I don't take no notice of the b.l.o.o.d.y fool: that's the best way.'

'Of course, we know that things is a bit bad just now,' Cra.s.s went on, 'but if the likes of 'im could 'ave their own way they'd make 'em a b.l.o.o.d.y sight worse.'

'That's just what I say,' replied Easton.

'I've got a pill ready for 'im, though, next time 'e start yappin','

Cra.s.s continued as he drew a small piece of printed paper from his waistcoat pocket. 'Just read that; it's out of the Obscurer.'

Easton took the newspaper cutting and read it: 'Very good,' he remarked as he handed it back.

'Yes, I think that'll about shut 'im up. Did yer notice the other day when we was talking about poverty and men bein' out of work, 'ow 'e dodged out of answerin' wot I said about machinery bein' the cause of it? 'e never answered me! Started talkin' about something else.'

'Yes, I remember 'e never answered it,' said Easton, who had really no recollection of the incident at all.

'I mean to tackle 'im about it at breakfast-time. I don't see why 'e should be allowed to get out of it like that. There was a bloke down at the "Cricketers" the other night talkin' about the same thing--a chap as takes a interest in politics and the like, and 'e said the very same as me. Why, the number of men what's been throwed out of work by all this 'ere new-fangled machinery is something chronic!'

'Of course,' agreed Easton, 'everyone knows it.'

'You ought to give us a look in at the "Cricketers" some night. There's a lot of decent chaps comes there.'

'Yes, I think I will.'

'What 'ouse do you usually use?' asked Cra.s.s after a pause.

Easton laughed. 'Well, to tell you the truth I've not used anywhere's lately. Been 'avin too many 'ollerdays.'

'That do make a bit of difference, don't it?' said Cra.s.s. 'But you'll be all right 'ere, till this job's done. Just watch yerself a bit, and don't get comin' late in the mornin's. Old Nimrod's dead nuts on that.'

'I'll see to that all right,' replied Easton. 'I don't believe in losing time when there IS work to do. It's bad enough when you can't get it.'

'You know,' Cra.s.s went on, confidentially. 'Between me an' you an' the gatepost, as the sayin' is, I don't think Mr b.l.o.o.d.y Owen will be 'ere much longer. Nimrod 'ates the sight of 'im.'

Easton had it in his mind to say that Nimrod seemed to hate the sight of all of them: but he made no remark, and Cra.s.s continued:

''E's 'eard all about the way Owen goes on about politics and religion, an' one thing an' another, an' about the firm scampin' the work. You know that sort of talk don't do, does it?'

'Of course not.'

''Unter would 'ave got rid of 'im long ago, but it wasn't 'im as took 'im on in the first place. It was Rushton 'imself as give 'im a start.

It seems Owen took a lot of samples of 'is work an' showed 'em to the Bloke.'