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 THE RAGGED TROUSERED 
 PHILANTHROPISTS 

 
 THE 
 
 RAGGED TROUSERED 
 PHILANTHROPISTS 
 
 BY 
 
 ROBERT TRESSALL 
 U - 
 
 LONDON 
 GRANT RICHARDS LTD. 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 EDINBURGH: AT THE MERCAT PRESS 
 1914
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. AN IMPERIAL BANQUET I 
 
 ii. NIMROD: A MIGHTY HUNTER BEFORE THE LORD 18 
 
 III. THE FINANCIERS 36 
 
 IV. THE PLACARD ....... 54 
 
 V. OWEN AT HOME 65 
 
 VI. THE EXTERMINATING MACHINES . . 76 
 
 VII. THE CAP ON THE STAIRS 88 
 
 VIII. THE LONG HILL 97 
 
 IX. HANDS AND BRAINS IO4 
 
 X. THE UPPER AND NETHER MILLSTONES . .Ill 
 
 XI. THE THOROUGH MAN 131 
 
 XII. SUNDAY SCHOOL 139 
 
 XIII. THE LODGER 148 
 
 xiv. THE 'CRICKETERS' ARMS' . . . .153 
 
 XV. THE GREAT MONEY TRICK . . . . 1 66 
 
 XVI. THE REIGN OF TERROR 178 
 
 xvii. THE 'OPEN AIR' 188 
 
 XVIII. RUTH 194 
 
 XIX. THE OBLONG 209 
 
 XX. THE SLAUGHTER 235 
 
 XXI. CHRISTMAS EVE ... . 244 
 
 xxn. THE 'PANDORAMER' 251 
 
 XXIII. THE BRIGANDS 259 
 
 XXIV. THE VETERAN 265 
 
 XXV. THE NEW TENANTS . . . . . .272
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER fAliB 
 
 xxvi. THE BRIGAND'S CAVE 278 
 
 XXVII. THE BRIGANDS AT WORK 285 
 
 XXVIII. THE BEANO MEETING 293 
 
 XXIX. THE SOCIALIST VAN 306 
 
 XXX. THE BEANO 312 
 
 XXXI. THE GREAT ORATION 327 
 
 XXXII. THE ' SIXTY FIVE ' . . . . . 343 
 
 XXXIII. THE GHOULS 349 
 
 XXXIV. THE WISE MEN OF THE EAST .... 363 
 XXXV. THE WIDOW'S SON 379 
 
 XXXVI. THE END 388
 
 PREFACE 
 
 A few months ago a friend asked me to look at the manu- 
 script of a novel, ' The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists," 1 
 the work of a socialistic house-painter, who wrote his book 
 and died. I consented without enthusiasm, expecting to be 
 neither interested nor amused and found I had chanced 
 upon a remarkable human document. 
 
 With grim humour and pitiless realism the working man 
 has revealed the lives and hearts of his mates, their opinion 
 of their betters, their political views, their attitude towards 
 Socialism. Through the busy din of the hammer and the 
 scraping knife, the clang of the pail, the swish of the white- 
 wash, Hie yell of the foreman, comes the talk of the men, their 
 jokes and curses, their hopes and terrors, the whimpering of 
 their old people, the cry of their children. 
 
 In reducing a large mass of manuscript to the limitations 
 of book form, it has been my task to cut away superfluous 
 matter and repetition only. The rest remains as it came 
 from the pen of Robert Tressall, house-painter and sign- 
 writer, ivho recorded his criticism of the present scheme of 
 things, until, weary of the struggle, he slipped out of it. 
 
 / 'ESSIE POPE.
 
 CHAPTER I 
 AN IMPERIAL BANQUET 
 
 THE house was named 'The Cave.' It was a large old- 
 fashioned three-storied building, standing in about an acre of 
 ground, a mile outside the town of Mugsborough. It had been 
 unoccupied for many years, and was now being altered and 
 renovated for its new owner by the firm of Rushton and 
 Company, Builders and Decorators. 
 
 Altogether, about twenty-five men were working there 
 carpenters, plumbers, plasterers, bricklayers and painters 
 besides several unskilled labourers. They were putting new 
 floors where the old ones were decayed, and making two rooms 
 into one by demolishing the parting wall and substituting an 
 iron girder. They were replacing window frames and sashes, 
 re-plastering cracked ceilings and walls, cutting openings and 
 fitting doors where no doors had ever been before. They were 
 taking down broken chimney pots and fixing new ones in their 
 places. They were washing the old whitewash off the ceilings, 
 and scraping the old paper off the walls. The air was full of 
 the sounds of hammering and sawing, the ringing of trowels, 
 the rattle of pails, the splashing of water brushes and the s< rap- 
 ing of the stripping knives. It was also heavily laden with dust 
 and disease germs, powdered mortar, lime, plaster, and the dirt 
 that had been accumulating within the old house for years. In 
 brief, those employed there might be said to be living in a 
 Tariff Reform Paradise they had Plenty of Work. 
 
 At twelve o'clock Bob Crass, the painter's foreman, blew 
 a prolonged blast upon a whistle and all hands assembled in 
 the kitchen, where Bert the apprentice had already prepared 
 the tea in the large galvanised iron pail placed in the middle of 
 the floor. By the side of the pail were a number of old jam 
 jars, mugs, dilapidated tea-cups and one or two empty con- 
 densed milk tins. Each man on the 'job ' paid Bert threepence 
 a week for the tea and sugar they did not have milk and 
 
 A I
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 although they had tea at breakfast time as well as at dinner 
 the lad was generally considered to be making a fortune. 
 
 Two pairs of steps laid sideways in front of the fire at a 
 distance of about eight feet with a plank placed across, several 
 upturned pails, and the drawers belonging to the dresser, 
 formed the seating accommodation. The floor was covered 
 with all manner of ddbris, dust, dirt, fragments of old mortar 
 and plaster. A sack of cement was leaning against one of the 
 walls, and a bucket containing some stale whitewash stood in 
 one corner. 
 
 As each man came in he filled his cup, jamjar, or condensed 
 milk tin with tea from the steaming pail, before sitting down. 
 Most of them brought their food in little wicker baskets, which 
 they held on their laps, or placed on the floor beside them. 
 
 At first there was no attempt at conversation and nothing 
 was heard but the sounds of eating and drinking and the 
 frizzling of the bloater which Easton, one of the painters, was 
 toasting on the end of a pointed stick at the fire. 
 
 ' I don't think much of this bloody tea,' suddenly remarked 
 Sawkins, one of the labourers. 
 
 ' Well, it oughter be all right,' retorted Bert ; ' it's bin bilin' 
 ever since 'arf past eleven.' 
 
 Bert White was a frail-looking, weedy, pale-faced boy, fifteen 
 years of age and about four feet nine inches in height. His 
 trousers were part of a suit that he had once worn for best, but 
 that was so long ago that they had become too small for him, 
 fitting rather tightly and scarcely reaching the top of his 
 patched and broken hobnailed boots. The knees had been 
 patched with square pieces of cloth, several shades darker than 
 the original fabric, and these patches were now all in rags. 
 His coat was several sizes too large for him and hung about 
 him like a dirty ragged sack. He was a pitiable spectacle of 
 neglect and wretchedness as he sat there on an upturned pail, 
 eating his bread and cheese with fingers that, like his clothing, 
 were grimed with paint and dirt. 
 
 4 Well then, you can't have put enough tea in, or else you've 
 bin' usin' up wot was left yesterday,' continued Sawkins. 
 
 4 Why the bloody 'ell don't you leave the boy alone ? ' said 
 Harlow, another painter ; 4 if you don't like the tea you needn't 
 drink it. I'm sick of listening to you about it every dam day." 
 
 4 It's all ver3' well for you to say I needn't drink it,' answered 
 Sawkins, 4 but I've paid my share an' I've got a right to 
 
 2
 
 An Imperial Banquet 
 
 express an opinion. It's my belief that 'arf the money we give 
 'im is spent in penny 'orribles ; 'e's always got one in 'is hand ; 
 an' to make wot tea 'e does buy last, 'e collects all the slops 
 wot's left and biles it up day after day.' 
 
 4 No I don't ! ' says Bert, who was on the verge of tears. ' It's 
 not me wot buys the things at all. I gives all the money I gets 
 to Crass, and 'e buys them 'imself, so there ! ' 
 
 At this revelation some of the men furtively exchanged 
 significant glances, and Crass, the foreman, became very red. 
 
 4 You'd better keep your bloody thruppence and make your 
 own tea after this week,' he said, addressing Sawkins, 'and 
 then p'raps we'll 'ave a little peace at meal times.' 
 
 'An' you needn't ask me to cook no bloaters or bacon for 
 you no more,' added Bert, tearfully, "cos I won't do it.' 
 
 Sawkins was not popular with any of the others. When, 
 about twelve months previously, he first came to work for 
 Rushton and Company, he was a simple labourer, but since 
 then he had ' picked up ' a slight knowledge of the trade, and 
 having armed himself with a putty knife and put on a white 
 jacket, regarded himself as a fully qualified painter. The others 
 perhaps did not object to him trying to better his condition, 
 but his wages fivepence an hour were twopence an hour 
 less than the standard rate, and the result was that in slack 
 turns a better workman was often 'stood off' when Sawkins 
 was kept on. Moreover he was generally regarded as a sneak 
 who carried tales to the foreman and the ' Bloke.' Every new 
 hand was usually warned by his mates ' not to let that swine 
 Sawkins see anything.' 
 
 The unpleasant silence which now ensued was at length 
 broken by one of the men, who told a dirty story, and in the 
 laughter and applause that followed, the incident of the tea 
 was forgotten. 
 
 4 How did you get on yesterday ? ' asked Crass, addressing 
 Bundy, the plasterer, who was intently studying the sporting 
 columns of the 4 Daily Obscurer.' 
 
 4 No luck,' replied Bundy gloomily. 4 1 had a bob each way 
 on Stockwell, in the first race, but it was scratched before 
 the start.' 
 
 This gave rise to a conversation between Crass, Bundy, 
 and one or two others concerning the chances of different 
 horses in the morrow's races. It was Friday, and no one had 
 much money, so at the suggestion of Bundy a syndicate was 
 
 3
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 formed, each member contributing threepence, for the purpose 
 of backing 4 a dead certainty' given by the renowned Captain 
 Kiddem of the 'Obscurer.' One of those who did not join the 
 syndicate was Frank Owen, who as usual seemed absorbed 
 in a newspaper. He was generally regarded as a bit of a crank, 
 for it was felt that there must be something wrong about a 
 man who took no interest in racing or football, and was 
 always talking a lot of rot about religion and politics. If it had 
 not been for the fact that he was generally admitted to be an 
 exceptionally good workman, they would have had but little 
 hesitation in thinking him mad. Owen was about thirty-two 
 years of age, and of medium height, but so slightly built that 
 he appeared taller. His clean shaven face showed a suggestion 
 of refinement, his complexion was ominously clear, and an 
 unnatural colour flushed the thin cheeks. 
 
 There was a certain amount of justification for the attitude 
 of his fellow-workmen, for Owen held the most unusual and 
 unorthodox opinions, and it was because he was in the habit 
 of discussing them openly, that his fellow-workmen came to 
 the conclusion that there was probably something wrong 
 with his mind. 
 
 When all the members of the syndicate had handed over 
 their contributions, Bundy went out to arrange matters with 
 the bookie, and during his absence Easton annexed the copy 
 of ' The Obscurer ' that Bundy had thrown away and pro- 
 ceeded to work laboriously through some carefully cooked 
 statistics relating to Free Trade and Protection. Bert, his eyes 
 starting out of his head and his mouth wide open, was de- 
 vouring the contents of a paper called ' The Chronicles of 
 Crime.' Ned Dawson a poor devil who was paid fourpence 
 an hour for acting as mate or labourer to Bundy, or the brick- 
 layers, or anyone else who wanted him lay down on the dirty 
 floor in a corner of the room, and with his coat rolled up as 
 a pillow, went to sleep. Sawkins with the same intention, 
 stretched himself at full length on the dresser. 
 
 Most of the men lit their pipes and a desultory conversation 
 ensued. 
 
 'Is the gent what's bought this 'ouse any relation to 
 Sweater the Draper ? ' asked Payne, the carpenter's foreman. 
 
 ' It's the same bloke,' replied Crass. 
 
 ' Didn't he used to be on the Town Council or something ? ' 
 
 "E's bin on the Council for years,' returned Crass. "E's 
 
 4
 
 An Imperial Banquet 
 
 on it now. 'E's mayor this year. 'E's bin mayor several times 
 before.' 
 
 ' Let's see,' said Payne, reflectively. ' 'E married old Grind- 
 er's sister, didn't 'e ? You know who I mean, Grinder the 
 greengrocer.' 
 
 ' Yes, I believe 'e did,' said Crass. 
 
 'It wasn't Grinder's sister,' chimed in old Jack Linden, ' It 
 was 'is niece. I know, because I remember working in their 
 'ouse just after they were married, about ten years ago.' 
 
 ' Oh yes, I remember now,' said Payne, ' she used to manage 
 one of Grinder's branch shops.' 
 
 'Yes,' replied Linden. 'I remember it very well because 
 there was a lot of talk about it at the time. No one never 
 thought as ole Sweater'd ever git married at all, although 
 there was always several young women about what would 
 have been glad enough to 'ave him.' 
 
 This important matter being disposed of, there followed a 
 brief silence, which was presently broken by Harlow. 
 
 ' Funny name to call a 'ouse, ain't it ? ' he said. ' " The 
 Cave." I wonder what made 'em give it a name like that ? ' 
 
 'They calls 'em all sorts of outlandish names nowadays,' 
 said old Jack Linden. 
 
 'There's generally some sort of meaning to it though,' ob- 
 served Payne ; ' for instance, if a bloke backed a winner and 
 made a pile 'e might call 'is 'ouse " Epsom Lodge" or " New- 
 market Villa."' 
 
 4 Or sometimes there's a hoak tree or a cherry tree in the 
 garding,' said another man, ' then they calls it " Hoak Lodge" 
 or " Cherry Cottage." ' 
 
 'Well, there's a cave up at the end of this garden,' said 
 Harlow with a grin, ' you know, the cesspool, what the drains 
 of the 'ouse runs into ; praps they called it after that.' 
 
 ' Talking about the drains,' said old Jack Linden, when the 
 laughter produced by this elegant joke had ceased ; ' talking 
 about the drains, I wonder what they're going to do about 
 them.' 
 
 4 There's going to be a new set of drains altogether,' replied 
 Crass, ' carried right out to the road and connected with the 
 main.' 
 
 Crass really knew no more about what was going to be 
 done in this matter than did Linden, but he felt certain that 
 this course would be adopted. He never missed an opportunity 
 
 5
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 of enhancing his own prestige with the men by insinuating 
 that he was in the confidence of the firm. 
 
 'That's goin' to cost a good bit,' said Linden. 
 
 ' Yes, I suppose it will,' replied Crass, ' but money ain't no 
 object to old Sweater. 'E's got tons of it ; you know 'e's got 
 a large wholesale business in London and shops all over the 
 bloody country, besides the one 'e's got 'ere.' 
 
 Easton was still reading the ' Obscurer.' He was not able 
 to understand exactly what the compiler of the figures was 
 driving at probably the latter never intended that anyone 
 should understand but he was conscious of a growing feeling 
 of indignation and hatred against foreigners of every descrip- 
 tion, who were ruining this country, and he began to think 
 that it was about time we did something to protect ourselves. 
 Still, it was a very difficult question ; to tell the truth he him- 
 self could not make head or tale of it. At length he said aloud, 
 addressing himself to Crass : 
 
 ' Wot do you think of this 'ere fissical policy, Bob ? ' 
 
 'Ain't thought much about it,' replied Crass. ' I don't never 
 worry my 'ed about politics.' 
 
 ' Much better left alone,' chimed in old Jack Linden, sagely, 
 ' argyfying about politics generally ends up with a bloody row 
 an' does no good to nobody-' 
 
 At this there was a murmur of approval from several of 
 the others. Most of them were averse from arguing or disput- 
 ing about politics. If two or three men of similar opinions 
 happened to be together they might discuss such things in a 
 friendly and superficial way, but in a mixed company it was 
 better left alone. The 'Fissical Policy' emanated from the 
 Tory Party. That was the reason why some of them were 
 strongly in favour of it, and for the same reason others were 
 opposed to it. Some of them were under the delusion that 
 they were Conservatives ; others imagined themselves to be 
 Liberals ; as a matter of fact most of them were nothing. 
 They knew as much about the public affairs of their own 
 country as they did of the condition of affairs in the planet 
 Jupiter. 
 
 Easton began to regret that he had broached so objection- 
 able a subject, when, looking up from his paper, Owen said : 
 
 ' Does the fact that you never trouble your heads about 
 politics prevent you from voting at election times ? ' 
 
 No one answered, and there ensued a brief silence, Easton, 
 
 6
 
 An Imperial Banquet 
 
 however, in spite of the snub he had received, could not re- 
 frain from talking. 
 
 1 Well, I don't go in for politics much, either, but if what's in 
 this 'ere paper is true, it seems to me as we oughter take some 
 interest in it, when the country is being ruined by foreigners.' 
 
 ' If you're goin' to believe all that's in that bloody rag you'll 
 want some salt,' said Harlow. 
 
 The 'Obscurer' was a Tory paper and Harlow was a 
 member of the local Liberal club. 
 
 Harlow's remark roused Crass. 
 
 1 Wots the use of talkin' like that ? ' he said. ' You know 
 very well that the country is being ruined by foreigners. Just 
 go to a shop to buy something ; look round the place an' you'll 
 see that more than 'arf the dam stuff comes from abroad. 
 They're able to sell their goods 'ere because they don't 'ave 
 to pay no dooty, but they takes care to put 'eavy dooties on 
 our goods to keep 'em out of their countries ; and I say it's 
 about time it was stopped.' 
 
 1 'Ear, 'ear ! ' said Linden, who always agreed with Crass, 
 because the latter, being in charge of the job, had it in his 
 power to put in a good or bad word for a man to the boss. 
 ' 'Ear, 'ear ! Now that's wot I call common sense.' 
 
 Several other men, for the same reason as Linden, echoed 
 Grass's sentiments, but Owen laughed contemptuously. 
 
 1 Yes, it's quite true that we gets a lot of stuff from foreign 
 countries,' said Harlow, 'but they buys more from us than 
 we do from them.' 
 
 ' Now you think you know a 'ell of a lot,' said Crass ; ' 'ow 
 much more did they buy from us last year than we did from 
 them ? ' 
 
 Harlow looked foolish ; as a matter of fact his knowledge 
 of the subject was not much wider than Grass's. He mumbled 
 something about having no 'ed for figures, and offered to bring 
 full particulars next day. 
 
 4 You're wot I call a bloody windbag,' continued Crass ; 
 'you've got a 'ell of a lot to say, but wen it comes to the point 
 you don't know nothin'.' 
 
 'Why even 'ere in Mugsborough,' chimed in Sawkins 
 who though still lying on the dresser had been awakened by 
 the shouting 'we're overrun with 'em ! Nearly all the waiters 
 and the cook at the Grand Hotel, where we was working last 
 month, is foreigners.' 
 
 7
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 ' Yes, 1 said old Joe Philpot, tragically, ' and then there's all 
 them Hitalian horgan grinders, an' the blokes wot sells chest- 
 nuts ; an' wen I wos goin' 'ome last night I see a lot of them 
 Frenchies sellin' hunions, an' a little wile afterwards I met 
 two more of 'em comin' up the street with a bear.' 
 
 Notwithstanding the disquieting nature of this intelligence, 
 Owen again laughed, much to the indignation of the others, 
 who thought it was a very serious state of affairs and said 
 it was a dam shame that these people were allowed to take 
 the bread out of English people's mouths : they ought to be 
 driven into the bloody sea. 
 
 And so the talk continued, principally carried on by Crass 
 and those who agreed with him. None of them really under- 
 stood the subject ; not one of them had ever devoted fifteen 
 consecutive minutes to the earnest investigation of it. The 
 papers they read were filled with vague and alarming accounts 
 of the quantities of foreign merchandise imported into this 
 country, the enormous number of aliens constantly arriving, 
 their destitute condition, how they lived, the crimes they 
 committed, and the injury they did to British trade. These 
 were the seeds which, cunningly sown in their minds, caused 
 a bitter undiscriminating hatred of foreigners to grow up with- 
 in them. To them the mysterious thing which they called 
 either the 'Friscal Policy,' the ' Fistical Policy,' or the 
 4 Fissical Question,' was a great Anti-Foreign Crusade. The 
 country was in a hell of a state ; povertj', hunger, and misery 
 in a hundred forms had already invaded thousands of homes 
 and stood upon the threshold of thousands more. How came 
 these things to be? It was the bloody foreigner! Therefore, 
 down with the foreigners and all their works. Out with them. 
 Drive them into the bloody sea ! The country would be ruined 
 if not protected in some way. This Friscal, Fistical, Fissical 
 or whatever the hell policy it was called, was Protection, there- 
 fore no one but a bloody fool could hesitate to support it. It 
 was all quite plain quite simple. One did not need to think 
 twice about it. It was scarcely necessary to think about it at all. 
 
 This was the conclusion reached by Crass and such of his 
 mates who thought they were Conservatives the majority of 
 them could not have read a dozen sentences aloud without 
 stumbling it was not necessary to think or study or investi- 
 gate anything. It was all as clear as daylight. The foreigner 
 was the enemy, and the cause of poverty and bad trade. 
 
 8
 
 An Imperial Banquet 
 
 When the storm had in some degree subsided, Owen said 
 sneeringly : 
 
 ' Some of you seem to think that it was a great mistake on 
 God's part to make so many foreigners. You ought to hold a 
 mass meeting about it and pass a resolution something like 
 this : " This meeting of British Christians hereby indignantly ' 
 protests against the action of the Supreme Being in having 
 created so many foreigners, and calls upon Him to rain down 
 fire, brimstone, and mighty rocks forthwith upon the heads of 
 all those Philistines, so that they may be utterly exterminated 
 from the face of the earth, which rightly belongs to the British 
 people ".' 
 
 Crass looked very indignant, but could think of nothing to 
 say in answer to Owen, who continued : 
 
 ' A little while ago you made the remark that you never 
 trouble yourself about what you call politics, and some of the 
 rest agreed with you that to do so is not worth while. Well, 
 since you never "worry" yourself about these things, it 
 follows that you know nothing about them ; yet you do not 
 hesitate to express the most decided opinions concerning 
 matters of which you admittedly know nothing. Presently, 
 when there is an election, you will go and vote in favour of 
 a policy of which you know nothing. I say that since you 
 never take the trouble to find out which side is right or wrong 
 you have no right to express any opinion. You are not fit to 
 vote. You should not be allowed to vote.' 
 
 Crass was by this time very angry. 
 
 1 1 pays my rates and taxes,' he shouted, ' an' I've got as 
 much right to express an opinion as you 'ave. I votes for who 
 the bloody 'ell I likes. I shan't arst your leave nor nobody 
 else's ! Wot the 'ell's it got to do with you who I votes for ? ' 
 
 'It has a great deal to do with me. If you vote for protec- 
 tion you will be helping to bring it about, and if you succeed, 
 and if Protection is the evil that some people say it is, I shall 
 be one of those who will suffer. I say you have no right to 
 vote for a policy which may bring suffering upon other people, 
 without taking the trouble to find out whether you are helping 
 to make things better or worse.' 
 
 Owen had risen from his seat and was walking up and down 
 the room emphasizing his words with excited gestures. 
 
 'As for not trying to find out wot side is right,' said Crass, 
 somewhat overawed by Owen's manner, and by what he 
 
 9
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 thought was the glare of madness in his eyes, ' I reads 
 the "Ananias" every week, and I generally takes the "Daily 
 Chloroform" or the "Hobscurer", so I ought to know sum- 
 mat about it.' 
 
 1 Just listen to this,' interrupted Easton, wishing to create 
 a diversion and beginning to read from the copy of the ' Ob- 
 scurer ' which he still held in his hand : 
 
 "GREAT DISTRESS IN MUGSBOROUGH 
 HUNDREDS OUT OF EMPLOYMENT 
 WORK OF THE CHARITY SOCIETY 
 789 CASES ON THE BOOKS 
 
 " Great as was the distress among the working classes last 
 year, unfortunately there seems every prospect that before the 
 winter which has just commenced is over the distress will be 
 even more acute. 
 
 "Already the Charity Society and kindred associations are 
 relieving more cases than they did at the corresponding time 
 last year. Applications to the Board of Guardians have also 
 been much more numerous, and the Soup Kitchen has had to 
 open its doors on yth Nov., a fortnight earlier than usual. The 
 number of men, women and children provided with meals is 
 three or four times greater than last year." ' 
 
 Easton stopped ; reading was hard work to him. 
 
 'There's a lot more,' he said, 'about starting relief works : 
 two shillings a day for marriedmen, and one shilling for single, 
 and something about there's been 1572 quarts of soup given 
 to poor families wot was not even able to pay a penny, and a 
 lot more. And 'ere's another thing, an advertisement : 
 
 "THE SUFFERING POOR 
 
 SIR Distress among the Poor is so acute that I earnestly 
 ask you for aid for The Salvation Army's great Social Work 
 on their behalf. Some 6,000 are being sheltered nightly. Hun- 
 dreds are found work daily. Soup and bread are distributed in 
 the midnight hours to homeless wanderers in London. Addi- 
 tional workshops for the unemployed have been established. 
 Our Social Work for men, women, and children, for the char- 
 acterless and the outcast, is the largest and oldest organised 
 effort of its kind in the country, and greatly needs help. 
 
 IO
 
 An Imperial Banquet 
 
 10,000 is required before Christmas day. Gifts may be made 
 to any specific section or home, if desired. Can you please send 
 us something to keep the work going ? Please address cheques, 
 crossed ' Bank of England ' (Law Courts Branch), to me at 
 101, Queen Victoria Street, E.G. Balance Sheets and Reports 
 upon application. 
 
 BRAMWELL BOOTH." 
 
 'Oh, that's part of the great 'appiness an' prosperity wot Owen 
 makes out Free Trade brings,' said Crass, with a jeering laugh. 
 
 1 1 never said Free Trade brought happiness or prosperity,' 
 said Owen. 
 
 ' Well, praps you didn't say exactly them words, but that's 
 wot it amounts to.' 
 
 ' I never said anything of the kind. We've had Free Trade 
 for the last fifty years and to-day most people are living in a 
 condition of more or less abject poverty, and thousands are 
 literally starving. When we had Protection things were worse 
 still. Other countries have Protection and yet many of their 
 people are glad to come here and work for starvation wages. 
 The only difference between Free Trade and Protection is that 
 under certain circumstances one might be a little worse than 
 the other, but as remedies for poverty neither of them are of 
 any real use whatever, for the simple reason that they do not 
 deal with the real causes of poverty.' 
 
 'The greatest cause of poverty is hover-population,' re- 
 marked Harlow. 
 
 'Yes,' said old Joe Philpot, 'if a boss wants two men, 
 twenty goes after the job ; there's too many people and not 
 enough work.' 
 
 'Over-population,' cried Owen, 'when there's thousands 
 of acres of uncultivated land in England without a house or 
 human being to be seen ! Is over-population the cause of pov- 
 erty in France ? Is over-population the cause of poverty in 
 Ireland ? Within the last fifty years the population of Ireland 
 has been reduced by more than half. Four millions of people 
 have been exterminated by famine or got rid of by emigration, 
 but they haven't got rid of the poverty. Pr'aps you think that 
 half the people in this country ought to be exterminated as 
 well. That's the sort of opinion that Philanthropists like you, 
 who spend your lives in slavery for other people, might be 
 expected to hold.' 
 
 II
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 Here Owen was seized with a violent fit of coughing, and 
 resumed his seat. When the cough had ceased he sat wiping 
 his mouth with his handkerchief and listening to the talk 
 that ensued. 
 
 1 Drink is the cause of most of the poverty,' said Slyme. 
 
 This young man had been through- some strange process 
 which he called ' conversion '. He had had a ' change of 'art ' 
 and looked down with pious pity upon those he called 'worldly ' 
 people. He was not ' worldly ', he did not smoke or drink and 
 never went to the theatre. He had an extraordinary notion 
 that total abstinence was one of the fundamental principles of 
 the Christian religion. It never occurred to what he called his 
 mind, that this doctrine is an insult to the Founder of 
 Christianity. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Crass, agreeing with Slyme, ' an' there's plenty 
 of 'em wot's too lazy to work when they can get it. Some of the 
 swine who go about pleading poverty 'ave never done a fair 
 day's work in all their bloody lives. Then there's all this new 
 fangled machinery,' continued Crass, 'that's wot's ruinin' every- 
 thing. Even in our trade there's them machines for trimmin' 
 wall paper, an' now they've brought out a paintin' machine. 
 There's a pump an' a 'ose pipe, an' they reckon two men can 
 do as much with this 'ere machine as twenty could with- 
 out it.' 
 
 1 Another thing is women,' said Harlow, ' there's thousands 
 of 'em nowadays doin' work wot oughter be done by men.' 
 
 'In my opinion there's too much of this 'ere eddication, 
 nowadays,' remarked old Linden, ' wot the 'ell's the good of 
 eddication to the likes of us ? ' 
 
 1 None whatever,' said Crass, ' it just puts foolish ideas into 
 people's 'eds and makes 'em too lazy to work.' 
 
 Owen was listening to this pitiable farrago with feelings of 
 contempt and wonder. Were they all hopelessly stupid ? Had 
 their intelligence never developed beyond the stage of child- 
 hood ? Or was he mad himself? 
 
 1 Early marriages is another thing,' said Slyme, ' no man 
 oughtn't to be allowed to get married unless he's in a position 
 to keep a family.' 
 
 ' How can marriage be a cause of poverty ? ' said Owen, 
 contemptuously. ' A man who is not married is living an un- 
 natural life. Why don't you continue your argument a little 
 further and say that the practice of eating and drinking is the 
 
 12
 
 An Imperial Banquet 
 
 cause of poverty, or that if people were to go barefoot and 
 naked there would be no poverty ? The man who is so poor 
 that he cannot marry is in a condition of poverty already.' 
 
 'Wot I mean,' said Slyme, 'is that no man oughtn't to 
 marry till he's saved up enough so as to 'ave some money in 
 the bank ; an' another thing, I reckon a man oughtn't to get 
 married till 'e's got a "ouse of 'is own. It's easy enough to buy 
 one in a building society if you're in reg'lar work.' 
 
 At this there was a general laugh. 
 
 ' Why, you bloody fool,' said Harlow, scornfully, ' most of 
 us is walkin' about 'arf our time. It's all very well for you to 
 talk ; you've got almost a constant job on this firm. If they're 
 doin' anything at all you're one of the few wot gets a show in. 
 And another thing,' he added with a sneer, ' we don't all go 
 to the same chapel as old Misery.' 
 
 'Old Misery' was Rushton and Company's manager or 
 walking foreman. ' Misery ' was only one of the nick-names 
 bestowed upon him by the hands : he was also known as 
 ' Nimrod ' and ' Pontius Pilate.' 
 
 ' And wot about drink ? ' demanded old Joe Philpot suddenly. 
 
 ''Ear, 'ear,' cried Harlow. 'That's the bleedin' talk. I wouldn't 
 mind 'avin 'arf a pint now, if somebody else will pay for it.' 
 
 Joe Philpot or as he was usually called, ' old Joe ' was in 
 the habit of indulging rather freely in the cup that inebriates. 
 He was not very old, being only a little over fifty, but he 
 looked much older. He had lost his wife some five years ago 
 and was now alone in the world, for his three children had 
 died in their infancy. Slyme's reference to drink had roused 
 Philpot's indignation ; he felt that it was directed against him- 
 self. The muddled condition of his brain did not permit him to 
 take up the cudgels in his own behalf, but he knew that 
 although Owen was a teetotaller himself, he disliked Slyme. 
 
 'There's no need for us to talk about drink or laziness,' 
 returned Owen, impatiently, 'because they have nothing to 
 do with the matter. The question is, what is the cause of the 
 lifelong poverty of the majority of those who are not drunkards 
 and who do work ? Why, if by some miracle, all the drunkards 
 and won't-works and unskilled or inefficient workers could be 
 transformed into sober, industrious and skilled workers to- 
 morrow, it would, under the present conditions, be so much 
 the worse for us, because there isn't enough work for all now, 
 and those people by increasing the competition for what work 
 
 13
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 there is, would inevitably cause a reduction of wages and a 
 greater scarcity of employment. The theories that drunken- 
 ness, laziness or inefficiency are the causes of poverty are so 
 many devices invented and fostered by those who are selfishly 
 interested in maintaining the present state of affairs, for the 
 purpose of preventing us from discovering the real causes of 
 our present condition.' 
 
 'Well, if we're all wrong,' said Crass with a sneer, 'praps 
 you can tell us what the real cause is ? ' 
 
 'An' praps you think you know how it's to be altered,' 
 remarked Harlow, winking at the others. 
 
 'Yes, I do think I know the cause,' declared Owen, 'and I 
 do think I know how it could be altered ' 
 
 ' It can't never be haltered,' interrupted old Linden. ' I 
 don't see no sense in all this 'ere talk. There's always been 
 rich and poor in the world, and there always will be.' 
 
 'Wot I always say is this 'ere,' remarked Philpot, whose 
 principal characteristic apart from thirst was a desire to 
 see everyone comfortable, and who hated rows of any kind, 
 ' there aint no use in theilikes of us trubblin' our 'eds or quarrel- 
 ling about politics. It don't make a dam bit of difference who 
 you votes for or who gets in. They're hall the same : workin' 
 the horicle for their own benefit. You can talk till you're black 
 in the face, but you won't never be able to alter it. It's no use 
 worrying. The sensible thing is to try and make the best of 
 things as we find 'em : enjoy ourselves, and do the best we 
 can for each other. Life's too short to quarrel and we'll hall 
 soon be dead ! ' 
 
 At the end of this lengthy speech, the philosophic Philpot 
 abstractedly grasped a jam jar and raised it to his lips ; but 
 suddenly remembering that it contained stewed tea and not 
 beer, set it down again without drinking. 
 
 ' Let us begin at the beginning,' continued Owen, taking no 
 notice of these interruptions. ' First of all, what do you mean 
 by Poverty ? ' 
 
 'Why if you've got no money, of course,' said Crass 
 impatiently. 
 
 The others laughed disdainfully. It seemed to them such a 
 foolish question. 
 
 1 Well, that's true enough as far as it goes,' returned Owen, 
 ' that is, as things are arranged in the world at present. But 
 money in itself is not wealth ; it's of no use whatever.' 
 
 14
 
 An Imperial Banquet 
 
 At this there was another outburst of jeering laughter. 
 
 'Supposing for example that you and Harlow were ship- 
 wrecked on a desolate island, and you had saved nothing from 
 the wreck but a bag containing a thousand sovereigns, and he 
 had a tin of biscuits and a bottle of water.' 
 
 ' Make it beer ! ' cried Harlow appealingly. 
 
 1 Who would be the richer man, you or Harlow ? ' 
 
 'But then you see we aint ship-wrecked on no dissolute 
 island at all,' sneered Crass. 'That's the worst of your argu- 
 ments. You can't never get very far without supposing some 
 bloody ridiclus thing or other. Never mind about supposing 
 things wot aint true ; let's 'ave facts and common sense.' 
 
 ' 'Ear, 'ear,' said old Linden, ' that's wot we want a little 
 common sense.' 
 
 4 What do you mean by poverty, then ? ' asked Easton. 
 
 ' What I call poverty is when people are not able to secure 
 for themselves all the benefits of civilisation : the necessaries, 
 comforts, pleasures and refinements of life : leisure, books, 
 theatres, pictures, music, holidays, travel, good and beautiful 
 homes, good clothes, good and pleasant food.' 
 
 Everybody laughed. It was so ridiculous. The idea of the 
 likes off/tern wanting or having such things ! Any doubts that 
 any of them had entertained as to Owen's sanity disappeared. 
 The man was as mad as a March hare. 
 
 ' If a man is only able to provide himself and his family with 
 the bare necessaries of existence, that man's family is living 
 in poverty. Since he cannot enjoy the advantages of civilisa- 
 tion he might just as well be a savage ; better, in fact, for a 
 savage does not know what he is deprived of. What we call 
 civilisation the accumulation of knowledge which has come 
 down to us from our forefathers is the fruit of thousands of 
 years of human thought and toil. It is not the result of the 
 labour of the ancestors of any separate class of people who exist 
 to-day, and therefore it is by right the common heritage of all. 
 Every little child that is born into the world, no matter whether 
 he is clever or dull, whether he is physically perfect or lame, 
 or blind, no matter how much he may excel or fall short of 
 his fellows in other respects, in one thing at least he is their 
 equal he is one of the heirs of all the ages that have gone 
 before.' 
 
 Some of them began to wonder whether Owen was not sane 
 after all. He certainly must be a clever sort of chap to be able 
 
 15
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 to talk like this. It sounded almost like something out of a 
 book, and most of them could not understand one half of it. 
 
 ' Why is it,' continued Owen, 'that we are not only deprived 
 of our inheritance we are not only deprived of nearly all the 
 benefits of civilisation, but we and our children are also 
 often unable to obtain even the bare necessaries of exist- 
 ence ? ' 
 
 No one answered. 
 
 'All these things,' Owen proceeded, 'are produced by 
 those who work. We do our full share of the work, there- 
 fore we should have a full share of the things that are made 
 by work.' 
 
 The others continued silent. Harlow thought of the over- 
 population theory, but decided not to mention it. Crass, who 
 could not have given an intelligent answer to save his life, 
 for once had sufficient sense to remain silent. He did think of 
 calling out the patent paint pumping machine and bringing 
 the hose pipe to bear on the subject, but abandoned the idea ; 
 after all, he thought, what was the use of arguing with such 
 a fool as Owen ? 
 
 Sawkins pretended to be asleep. 
 
 Philpot, however, had suddenly grown very serious. 
 
 'As things are now,' went on Owen, ' instead of enjoying 
 the advantages of civilisation we are really worse off than 
 slaves, for if we were slaves our owners, in their own interest, 
 would see to it that we always had food and ' 
 
 'Oh, I don't see that,' roughly interrupted old Linden, who 
 had been listening with evident anger and impatience, 'you 
 can speak for yourself, but I can tell yer I don't put myself 
 down as a slave.' 
 
 ' Nor me neither,' said Crass, sturdily, ' let them call their- 
 selves slaves as wants to.' 
 
 At this moment a footstep was heard in the passage leading 
 to the kitchen. 
 
 Old Misery, or perhaps the Bloke himself! 
 
 Crass hurriedly pulled out his watch. 
 
 'Jesus Christ ! ' he gasped, ' it's four minutes past one ! ' 
 
 Linden frantically seized hold of a pair of steps and began 
 wandering about the room with them. 
 
 Sawkins scrambled hastily to his feet and snatching a piece 
 of sandpaper from the pocket of his apron started furiously 
 rubbing down the scullery door. 
 
 16
 
 An Imperial Banquet 
 
 Easton threw down the copy of the ' Obscurer ' and scram- 
 bled hastily to his feet. 
 
 The boy crammed the 'Chronicles of Crime' into his 
 trousers pocket. 
 
 Crass rushed over to the bucket and began stirring up the 
 stale white-wash it contained, although the stench which it 
 gave forth was simply appalling. 
 
 Consternation reigned. 
 
 They looked like a gang of malefactors suddenly interrupted 
 in the commission of a crime. 
 
 The door opened. It was only Bundy returning from his 
 mission to the Bookie.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 NIMROD : A MIGHTY HUNTER BEFORE THE LORD 
 
 MR Hunter, as he was called to his face and as he was known 
 to his brethren at the Shining Light Chapel, or ' Misery ' or 
 4 Nimrod,' as he was named behind his back by the workmen 
 over whom he tyrannised, was the general or walking-fore- 
 man or ' manager ' of the firm, whose card is herewith pre- 
 sented to the reader : 
 
 RUSHTON & CO. 
 
 MUaSBOROITCm 
 
 Builders, Decorators, and General Contractors 
 
 FUNERALS FURNISHED 
 
 Estimates given for General Repairs to House Property 
 First-class Work only at Moderate Charges 
 
 There were a number of sub-foremen or 'coddies,' but 
 Hunter was the foreman. 
 
 He was a tall thin man, whose clothes hung loosely on the 
 angles of his round-shouldered, bony form. His long thin 
 legs, about which the baggy trousers draped in ungraceful 
 folds, were slightly knock-kneed and terminated in large flat 
 feet. His arms were very long even for such a tall man, and 
 the hugh bony hands were gnarled and knotted. When he 
 removed his bowler hat, as he frequently did to wipe away 
 with a red handkerchief the sweat occasioned by furious 
 bicycle riding, it was seen that his forehead was high, flat and 
 narrow. His nose was a large, fleshy, hawk-like beak, and 
 from the side of each nostril a deep indentation extended 
 
 18
 
 Nimrod : A Mighty Hunter Before the Lord 
 
 downwards until it disappeared in the drooping moustache 
 that concealed his mouth, the vast extent of which was per- 
 ceived only when he opened it to bellow exhortations at the 
 workmen to greater exertions. His chin was large and extra- 
 ordinarily long. His eyes were pale blue, very small and close 
 together, surmounted by spare, light coloured, almost invis- 
 ible eyebrows, with a deep vertical cleft between them over 
 the nose. His head, covered with thick coarse brown hair, 
 was very large at the back, the ears were small and laid close ro 
 the head. If one were to make a full face drawing ot his cadav- 
 erous visage it would be found that the outline resembled 
 the lid of a coffin. 
 
 This man had been with Rush ton for fifteen years, in fact 
 almost from the time when the latter commenced business. 
 Rush ton had at that period realised the necessity of having a 
 deputy who could be used to do all the drudgery and running 
 about so that he himself might be free to attend to more pleas- 
 ant and profitable matters. Hunter was then a journeyman, 
 but was on the point of starting on his own account, when 
 Rushton offered him a constant job as foreman, two pounds 
 a week, and two and a half per cent of the profits of all work 
 done. On the face of it this appeared a generous offer. Hunter 
 closed with it, gave up the idea of starting for himself, and 
 threw himself heart and mind into the business. When an 
 estimate was to be prepared, it was Hunter who measured 
 up the work and laboriously figured out the probable cost. 
 When their tenders were accepted it was he who superintended 
 the work and schemed how to scamp it, where possible, using 
 mud where mortar was specified, mortar where there ought 
 to have been cement, sheet zinc where they were supposed 
 to put sheet lead, boiled oil instead of varnish, and three coats 
 of paint where five were paid for. In fact, scamping the work 
 was with this man a kind of mania. It grieved him to see any- 
 thing done properly. Even when it was more economical to 
 do a thing well, he insisted from force of habit on having it 
 scamped. Then he was almost happy, because he felt that he 
 was doing someone down. If there were an architect superin- 
 tending the work Misery would square him or bluff him. If 
 it were not possible to do either, at least he had a try ; and 
 in the intervals of watching, driving and bullying the hands, 
 his vulture eye was ever on the look out for fresh jobs. His 
 long red nose was thrust into every estate agent's office in the 
 
 19
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 town in the endeavour to smell out what properties had re- 
 cently changed hands or been let, in order that he might in- 
 terview the new owners and secure the order for whatever 
 alterations or repairs might be required. He it was who enter- 
 ed into unholy compacts with numerous charwomen and 
 nurses of the sick, who, in return for a small commission, 
 would let him know when some poor sufferer was passing 
 away, and would recommend Rushton and Company to the 
 bereaved and distracted relatives. By these means often 
 after first carefully inquiring into the financial position of the 
 stricken family Misery would contrive to wriggle his un- 
 savoury carcase into the house of sorrow, seeking, even in 
 the chamber of death, to further the interests of Rushton and 
 Company, and to earn his miserable two and a half per cent. 
 
 It was to make the attainment of this object possible that 
 Misery slaved and drove and schemed and cheated. It was for 
 this that the workers' wages were cut down to the lowest 
 possible point, and their offspring went ill clad, ill shod, and 
 ill fed, and were driven forth to labour while they were yet 
 children, because their fathers were unable to earn enough to 
 support their homes. 
 
 Fifteen years ! 
 
 Hunter realised now that Rushton had had considerably 
 the best of the bargain. In the first place it will be seen that 
 the latter had bought over one who might have proved a 
 dangerous competitor, and now, after fifteen years, the business 
 that had been so laboriously built up, mainly by Hunter's 
 energy, industry and unscrupulous cunning, belonged to 
 Rushton and Company. Hunter was but an employee, liable 
 to be dismissed like any other workman, the only difference 
 being that he was entitled to a week's instead of an hour's 
 notice, and was but little better off financially than when he 
 started for the firm. 
 
 Fifteen years ! 
 
 Hunter knew now that he had been used, but he also knew 
 that it was too late to turn back. He had not saved enough to 
 make a successful start on his own account even if he had felt 
 mentally and physically capable of beginning all over again, 
 and if Rushton were to discharge him now he was too old to 
 get a job as a journeyman. Further in his zeal for Rushton 
 and Company, and his anxiety to earn his commission, he had 
 often done things that had roused the animosity of rival firms 
 
 20
 
 Nimrod; A Mighty Hunter Before the Lord 
 
 to such an extent that it was highly improbable that any of them 
 would employ him, and even if they would, Misery's heart failed 
 him at the thought of having to meet on an equal footing those 
 workmen whom he had tyrannised over and oppressed. It was 
 for these reasons that Hunter was as terrified of Rushton as 
 the hands were of himself. 
 
 Over the men stood Misery, ever threatening them with 
 dismissal and their wives and children with hunger. Behind 
 Misery was Rushton, ever bulging and goading him on to 
 greater excesses and efforts for the furtherance of the good 
 cause which was to enable the head of the firm to accumu- 
 late money. 
 
 Mr Hunter, at the moment when the reader first makes his 
 acquaintance on the afternoon of the day when the incidents 
 recorded in the first chapter took place, was executing a kind 
 of strategical movement in the direction of the house where 
 Crass and his mates were working. He kept to one side of 
 the road because by so doing he could not be perceived by 
 those within the house until the instant of his arrival. When 
 he was within about a hundred yards of the gate he dismounted 
 from his bicycle, there being a sharp rise in the road just 
 there, and as he toiled up, pushing the bicycle in front, his 
 breath showing in the frosty air, he observed a number of men 
 hanging about. Some of them he knew ; they had worked for 
 him at various times, but were now out of a job. There were 
 five altogether, three were standing in a group, the other two 
 stood each by himself, being strangers to the rest. The three 
 men who stood together were nearest to Hunter and as the 
 latter approached, one of them advanced to meet him. 
 
 4 Good morning, sir.' 
 
 Hunter replied by an inarticulate grunt, without stopping. 
 The man followed. 
 
 4 Any chance of a job, sir ? ' 
 
 4 Full up,' replied Hunter, still without stopping. The man 
 still followed, like a beggar soliciting charity. 
 
 4 Be any use calling round in a day or so, sir ? ' 
 
 1 Don't think so,' Hunter replied ; 4 can if you like ; but we're 
 full up.' 
 
 4 Thank you, sir,' said the man, and turned back to his 
 friends. 
 
 By this time Hunter was within a few yards of one of the other 
 two men, who also came to speak to him. This man felt there 
 
 21
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 was no hope of getting a job ; still there was no harm in asking. 
 Besides, he was getting desperate. It was over a month now 
 since he had finished up for his last employer. It had been a 
 very slow summer altogether. Sometimes a fortnight for one 
 firm, then perhaps a week doing nothing, then three weeks 
 or a month for another firm, then out again, and so on. And 
 now it was November. Last winter they had got into debt. 
 That was nothing unusual, but owing to the bad summer they 
 had not been able, as in other years, to pay off the debts ac- 
 cumulated in winter. It was doubtful, too, whether they would 
 be able to get credit again this winter. In fact, this morning, 
 when his wife sent their little girl for some butter the grocer 
 had refused to let the child have it without the money. So al- 
 though he felt it to be hopeless he accosted Hunter. 
 
 This time Hunter stopped ; he was winded by his climb up 
 the hill. 
 
 ' Good morning, sir.' 
 
 Hunter did not return the salutation; he had not the breath 
 to spare. But the man was not hurt, being used to such 
 treatment. 
 
 4 Any chance of a job, sir ? ' 
 
 Hunter did not reply at once ; he was short of breath, and 
 he was thinking of a plan that was ever rec urring to his mind, 
 and which he had lately been hankering to put into execution. 
 It seemed to him that the long waited for opportunity had come. 
 Just now Rushton and Company were almost the only firm 
 in Mugsborough who had any work. There were dozens of 
 good workmen out. Yes, this was the time. If this man agreed 
 he would give him a start. Hunter knew the man was a good 
 workman, he had worked for Rushton and Company before. 
 To make room for him old Linden, or some other full price 
 man, could be got rid of; it would not be difficult to find some 
 excuse. 
 
 ' Well,' Hunter said at last in a doubtful, hesitating kind of 
 way, ' I'm afraid not, Newman. We're about full up.' 
 
 He ceased speaking and remained waiting for the other to 
 say something more. He did not look at the man, but stooped 
 down, fidgetting with the mechanism of the bicycle as if adjust- 
 ing it. 
 
 'Things have been so bad this summer,' Newman went on, 
 ' I've had rather a rough time of it. I would be very glad of a 
 job even if it was only for a week or so.' 
 
 22
 
 Nimrod: A Mighty Hunter Before the Lord 
 
 There was a pause. After a while Hunter raised his eyes 
 to the other's face, but immediately let them fall again. 
 
 4 Well,' said he, ' I might perhaps be able to let you have 
 a day or two. You can come here to this job,' and he nodded 
 his head in the direction of the house where the men were 
 working, ' to-morrow at seven. Of course you know the figure ? ' 
 he added, as Newman was about to thank him. 'Six and a half.' 
 
 Hunter spoke as if the reduction were already an accom- 
 plished fact The man was more likely to agree, if he thought 
 that others were already working at the reduced rate. 
 
 Newman was taken by surprise, and hesitated. He had never 
 worked under price, indeed he had sometimes gone hungry 
 rather than do so ; but now it seemed that others were doing 
 it. And then he was so awfully hard up. If he refused this job 
 he was not likely to get another in a hurry. He thought of his 
 home and his family. Already they owed five weeks' rent, and 
 last Monday the collector had hinted pretty plainly that the 
 landlord would not wait much longer. Not only that, but if he 
 did not get a job how were they to live ? This morning he 
 himself had had- no breakfast to speak of, only a cup of tea 
 and some dry bread. These thoughts crowded u^ on each other 
 in his mind, but still he hesitated. 
 
 Hunter began to move off. 
 
 ' Well,' he said, ' if you like to start you can come here at 
 seven in the morning.' Then as Newman still hesitated he 
 added impatiently, 'Are you coming or not ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, sir,' said Newman. 
 
 'All right,' said Hunter, affably, Til tell Crass to have a 
 kit ready for you.' 
 
 He nodded in a friendly way to the man, who went off feeling 
 like a criminal. 
 
 As Hunter resumed his march, well satisfied with himself, 
 the fifth man, who had been waiting all this time, came to 
 meet him. As he approached. Hunter recognised him as one 
 who had started work for Rushton and Company early in the 
 summer but who had left suddenly of his own accord, having 
 taken offence at some bullying remark of Hunter's. 
 
 Hunter was glad to see this man. He guessed that the 
 fellow must be very hard pressed to come again and ask for 
 work after what had happened. 
 
 1 Any chance of a job, sir ? ' 
 
 Hunter appeared to reflect. 
 
 23
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 1 1 believe I have room for one/ he said at length. ' But you're 
 such an uncertain kind of chap. You don't seem to care much 
 whether you work or not. You're too independent you know ; 
 one can't say two words to you but you must needs clear off.' 
 
 The man made no answer. 
 
 'We can't tolerate that kind of thing, you know,' Hunter 
 added, 'if we were to encourage men of your stamp we should 
 never know where we are.' 
 
 So saying, Hunter moved away and again proceeded on his 
 journey. 
 
 When he arrived within about three yards of the gate he 
 noiselessly laid his machine against the garden fence. The high 
 evergreens that grew inside still concealed him from the 
 observation of anyone who might be looking out of the 
 windows of the house. Then he carefully crept along till he 
 came to the gate post, and bending down he peeped cautiously 
 round to see if he could detect anyone idling, or talking, or 
 smoking. There was no one in sight except old Jack Linden, 
 who was rubbing down the lobby doors with pumice stone 
 and water. Hunter noiselessly opened the gate and crept 
 quietly along the grass border of the garden path. His idea 
 was to reach the front door without being seen, so that 
 Linden could not give notice of his approach to those within. 
 In this he succeeded and passed silently into the house. He 
 did not speak to Linden ; to do so would have proclaimed his 
 presence to the rest. He crawled stealthily over the house 
 but was disappointed in his quest, for everyone he saw was 
 hard at work. Upstairs he noticed that the door of one of the 
 rooms was closed. 
 
 Old Joe Philpot had been working in this room all day, 
 washing off the old whitewash from the ceiling and removing 
 the old papers from the walls with a broad-bladed square- 
 topped knife called a stripper. Although it was only a small 
 room Joe had had to tear into the work pretty hard all the 
 time, for the ceiling seemed to have had two or three coats of 
 whitewash which had never been washed off, and there were 
 several thicknesses of paper on the walls. The difficulty of re- 
 moving these papers was increased by the fact that the dado 
 had been varnished. In order to get this off it had been 
 necessary to soak it several times with strong soda water, 
 and although Joe was as careful as possible he had not been 
 able to avoid getting some of this stuff on his fingers. The 
 
 24
 
 Nimrod: A Mighty Hunter Before the Lord 
 
 result was that his nails were all burnt and discoloured and 
 the flesh round them cracked and bleeding. However, he had 
 got it all off at last, and he was not sorry, for his right arm 
 and shoulder were aching from the prolonged strain, and in 
 the palm of the right hand there was a blister as large as a 
 shilling, caused by the handle of the stripping knife. 
 
 All the old paper being off, Joe washed down the walls with 
 water, and having swept the paper into a heap in the middle 
 of the floor, he mixed some cement and proceeded to stop up 
 the cracks and holes in the walls and ceiling. After a while, 
 feeling very tired, it occurred to him that he deserved a spell 
 and a smoke for five minutes. He closed the door and placed 
 a pair of steps against it. There were two windows in the 
 room almost opposite each other ; these he opened wide in 
 order that the smoke and smell of his pipe might be carried 
 away. Having taken these precautions against surprise he 
 ascended to the top of the step ladder that he had laid against 
 the door and sat down at ease. Within easy reach was the top 
 of a cupboard where he had concealed a pint of beer in a 
 bottle. To this he now applied himself. Having taken a long 
 pull at the bottle he tenderly replaced it on the top of the 
 cupboard and proceeded to ' hinjoy ' a quiet smoke, remarking 
 to himself: 
 
 'This is where we get some of our own back.' 
 
 He held, however, his trowel in one hand, ready for 
 immediate action in case of interruption. 
 
 Philpot wore no white jacket, only an old patched apron ; 
 his trousers were old, very soiled with paint and ragged where 
 they fell over the much patched, broken and down-at-heel 
 boots. The part of his waistcoat not protected by his apron 
 was covered with spots of dried paint. He wore a coloured 
 shirt and a ' dickey,' also soiled and splashed with paint, 
 one side of which was projecting from the opening of the 
 waistcoat. His head was covered with an old cap heavy and 
 shining with paint. He was very thin and stooped slightly. 
 Although he was really only fifty-five, he looked much older, 
 for he was prematurely aged. 
 
 He had not been getting his own back for more than five 
 minutes when Hunter softly turned the handle of the lock. 
 Philpot immediately put out his pipe, and descending from 
 his perch opened the door. When Hunter entered, Philpot 
 closed it again and mounting the steps went on stopping the 
 
 25
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 wall just above. Nimrod looked at him suspiciously wonder- 
 ing why the door had been closed. He looked all round the 
 room but could see nothing to complain of. He snuffed the air 
 to try if he could detect the odour of tobacco, and if he had not 
 been suffering from a cold in the head there is no doubt 
 that he would have perceived it. However, as it was he could 
 smell nothing, but all the same he was not quite satisfied, 
 although he remembered that Crass always gave Philpot a 
 good character. 
 
 ' I don't like to have men working on a job like this with 
 the door shut,' he said at length. ' It always gives me the 
 idear that the man's 'avin' a mike. You can do what you're 
 doin' just as well with the door open.' 
 
 Philpot, muttering something about it being all the same 
 to him shut or open got down from the steps and opened 
 the door. Hunter went out again without making any further 
 remark and once more began crawling over the house. 
 
 Owen was working by himself in a room on the same floor 
 as Philpot. He was at the window, burning off with a paraffin 
 torch-lamp those parts of the old paintwork that were blistered 
 or cracked. 
 
 In this work the flame of the lamp is directed against the 
 old paint, which becomes soft and is removed with a chisel 
 knife, or a scraper called a shavehook- The door was ajar and 
 he had opened the top sash of the window for the purpose of 
 letting in some fresh air, because the atmosphere of the room 
 was foul with the fumes of the lamp and the burning paint, 
 besides being heavy with moisture. The ceiling had only just 
 been water-washed and the walls stripped, and the old paper, 
 saturated with water, was piled up in a heap in the middle of 
 the floor. 
 
 Presently, as he was working, he began to feel conscious 
 of some other presence in the room. He looked round. The 
 door was open about six inches and in the opening appeared 
 a long pale face with a huge chin, surmounted by a bowler hat 
 and ornamented with a large red nose, a drooping moustache, 
 and two small glittering eyes set very close together. For some 
 seconds this apparition regarded Owen intently, then it was 
 silently withdrawn, and he was again alone. He had been so 
 surprised and startled that he had nearly dropped the lamp, 
 and now that the ghastly countenance was gone, Owen felt 
 the blood surge into his own cheeks. He trembled with sup- 
 
 26
 
 Nimrod: A Mighty Hunter Before the Lord 
 
 pressed fury, and longed to be able to go out there on the 
 landing and hurl the lamp into Hunter's face. 
 
 Meanwhile, on the landing outside Owen's door, Hunter 
 stood thinking. Someone must be got rid of to make room for 
 the cheap man to-morrow. He had hoped to catch one of the 
 men doing something that would have served as an excuse for 
 instant dismissal, but there was now no hope of that happen- 
 ing. What was to be done ? He would like to get rid of Linden, 
 who was now really too old to be of much use, but as the old 
 man had worked for Rushton on and off for many years, 
 Hunter felt that he could scarcely sack him ofthand without 
 some reasonable pretext. Still the fellow was really not worth 
 the money he was getting. Sevenpence an hour was an 
 absurdly large wage for an old man like him. It was pre- 
 posterous : he would have to go, excuse or no excuse. 
 
 Hunter crawled downstairs again. 
 
 Jack Linden was about sixty-seven years old, but, like Phil- 
 pot and as is usual with working men, he appeared older, be- 
 cause he had had to work very hard all his life, frequently 
 without proper food and clothing. His life had been passed in 
 the midst of a civilisation, the benefits of which he had never 
 been permitted to enjoy. But of course he knew nothing about 
 all this. He had never expected or wished to be allowed to 
 enjoy such things ; he had always been of opinion that they 
 were never intended for the likes of him. He called himself a 
 Conservative and was very patriotic. At the time when the 
 Boer war commenced, Linden was an enthusiastic jingo : his 
 enthusiasm had been somewhat damped when his youngest 
 son, a reservist, had been called to the front, where he had 
 died of fever and exposure. When this soldier son went away, 
 he left his wife and two children, aged respectively four and 
 five years, in his father's care. After he died they stayed on 
 with the old people. The young woman earned a little occa- 
 sionally by doing needlework, but was really dependent on 
 her father-in-law. Notwithstanding his poverty he was glad 
 to have them in the house, because of late years his wife had 
 been getting very feeble, and, since the shock occasioned by 
 the news of the death of her son, needed someone constantly 
 with her. 
 
 Linden was still working at the vestibule doors when the 
 foreman came downstairs. Misery stood watching him for 
 some minutes without speaking. At last he said loudly: 
 
 27
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 ' How much longer are you going to be messing about those 
 doors ? Why don't you get them under colour ? You were 
 fooling about there when I was here this morning. Do you 
 think it'll pay to have you playing about there hour after hour 
 with a bit of pumice stone ? Get the work done ! Or if you don't 
 want to, I'll very soon find someone else who does ! I've been 
 noticing your style of doing things for some time past and I 
 want you to understand that you can't play the fool with me. 
 There's plenty of better men than you walking about. If you 
 can't do more than you've been doing lately you can clear out; 
 we can do without you even when we're busy.' 
 
 Old Jack trembled. He tried to answer, but was unable to 
 speak. If he had been a slave and had failed to satisfy his 
 master the latter might have tied him up somewhere and 
 thrashed him. Hunter could not do that ; he could only take 
 his food away. Old Jack was frightened it was not only his 
 food that might be taken away. At last, with a great effort, for 
 the words seemed to stick in his throat, he said : 
 
 4 1 must clean the work down, sir, before I go on painting.' 
 
 ' I'm not talking about what you're doing, but the time it 
 takes you to do it!' shouted Hunter. 'And I don't want any 
 back answers or argument about it. You just move yourself 
 a bit quicker or leave it alone altogether.' 
 
 Linden did not answer: he went on with his work, his hand 
 trembling to such an extent that he was scarcely able to hold 
 the pumice stone. 
 
 Hunter shouted so loud that his voice filled all the house. 
 Everyone heard land was afraid. Who would be the next, 
 they thought. 
 
 Finding that Linden made no further answer, Misery again 
 began walking about the house. 
 
 As he looked at them the men did their work in a nervous, 
 clumsy, hasty sort of way. They made all sorts of mistakes 
 and messes. Payne, the foreman carpenter, who was putting 
 some new boards in a part of the drawing-room floor, was in 
 such a state of panic that, while driving a nail, he accident- 
 ally struck the thumb of his left hand a severe blow with his 
 hammer. Bundy was also working in the drawing-room, put- 
 ting some white glazed tiles in the fireplace. Whilst cutting 
 one of these in half in order to fit it into its place, he inflicted 
 a deep gash on one of his fingers. He was afraid to leave off 
 to bind it up while Hunter was there, and consequently, as he 
 
 28
 
 Nimrod: A Mighty Hunter Before the Lord 
 
 worked, the white tiles became all smeared and spattered with 
 blood. Easton, who was working with Harlow on a plank, 
 washing off the old distemper from the hall ceiling, was so 
 upset that he was scarcely able to stand on the plank, and 
 presently the brush fell from his trembling hand with a crash 
 upon the floor. 
 
 Everyone was afraid. They knew that it was almost imposs- 
 ible to get a job for any other firm. They knew that this man 
 had the power to deprive them of the means of earning a liv- 
 ing that he possessed the power to deprive their children 
 of bread. 
 
 Owen, listening to Hunter over the banisters upstairs, felt 
 that he would like to take him by the throat with one hand 
 and smash his face in with the other. 
 
 And then ? 
 
 Why then he would be sent to gaol, or at the best he would 
 lose his employment : he and his family would be deprived 
 of food. That was why he only ground his teeth and cursed 
 and beat the wall with his clenched fist. So ! and So ! and So ! 
 
 If it were not for his wife and child ! 
 
 Owen's imagination ran riot. 
 
 First he would seize him by the collar with his left hand, 
 dig his knuckles into his throat, force him up against the wall, 
 and then, with his right fist, smash ! smash ! smash ! until 
 Hunter's face was all cut and covered with blood. 
 
 But then, what about those at home ? Was it not braver 
 and more manly to endure in silence ? 
 
 Owen leaned against the wall, white faced, panting and ex- 
 hausted. 
 
 Downstairs, Misery was still going to and fro in the house 
 and walking up and down in it. Presently he stopped to look 
 at Sawkins's work. This man was painting ths woodwork of 
 the back staircase. Although the old paintwork here was very 
 dirty and greasy, Misery had given orders that it was not to 
 be cleaned before being painted. 
 
 'Just dust it down and slobber the colour on,' he had said. 
 Consequently, when Crass made the paint, he had put into it 
 an extra large quantity of driers, which to a certain extent 
 destroyed the ' body ' of the colour, so that it did not cover 
 well, and would require two coats. When Hunter perceived 
 this he was furious. He was sure it could be made to do with 
 one coat with a little care ; he believed Sawkins was doing 
 
 29
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 like this on purpose. Really, these men seemed to have no 
 conscience. 
 
 Two coats and he had estimated for only three ! 
 
 4 Crass ! ' 
 
 1 Yes, sir.' 
 
 1 Come here ! ' 
 
 'Yes, sir.' 
 
 Crass came hurrying along. 
 
 4 What's the meaning of this ? Didn't I tell you to make this 
 do with one coat ? Look at it ! ' 
 
 4 It's like this, sir,' said Crass. 4 If it had been washed 
 down ' 
 
 4 Washed down be damned ! ' shouted Hunter. 4 The reason 
 is that the colour ain't thick enough. Take the paint and put 
 a little more body in it and we'll soon see whether it can be 
 done or not. I can make it cover if you can't.' 
 
 Crass took the paint, and, superintended by Hunter, made 
 it thicker. Misery then seized the brush and prepared to de- 
 monstrate the possibility of finishing the work with one coat. 
 Crass and Sawkins looked on in silence. 
 
 Just as Misery was about to commence, he fancied he heard 
 someone whispering somewhere. He laid down the brush and 
 crawled stealthily upstairs to see who it was. Directly his back 
 was turned, Crass seized a bottle of oil that was standing 
 near and, tipping about half a pint of it into the paint, stirred 
 it up quickly. Misery returned almost immediately : he had 
 not caught anyone ; it must have been fancy. He took up 
 the brush and began to paint. The result was worse than 
 Sawkins's. 
 
 He messed and fooled about for some time but could not 
 make it come right. At last he gave it up. 
 
 * I suppose it'll have to have two coats after all,' he said, 
 mournfully ; 'but it's a thousand pities.' 
 
 He almost wept. 
 
 The firm would be ruined it things went on like this. 
 
 4 You'd better go on with it,' he said as he laid down the 
 brush. 
 
 He began to walk about the house again. He wanted to go 
 away now, but he did not want them to know that he was 
 gone, so he sneaked out of the back door, crept round the 
 house and out of the gate, mounted his bicycle and rode 
 away. 
 
 30
 
 Nimrod: A Mighty Hunter Before the Lord 
 
 No one saw him go. 
 
 For some time the only sounds that broke the silence were 
 the noises made by the hands as they worked : the musical 
 ringing of Bundy's trowel, the noise of the carpenters' ham- 
 mers and saws, and the occasional moving of a pair of steps. 
 
 No one dared to speak. 
 
 At last Philpot could stand it no longer. He was very 
 thirsty. 
 
 He had kept the door of his room open since Hunter 
 arrived. 
 
 He listened intently. He felt certain that Hunter must be 
 gone : he looked across the landing and could see Owen work- 
 ing in the front room. Philpot made a little ball of paper and 
 threw it at him to attract his attention. Owen looked round, 
 and Philpot began to make signals : he pointed downwards 
 with one hand and jerked the thumb of the other over his 
 shoulder in the direction of the town, winking grotesquely the 
 while. This Owen interpreted to be an inquiry as to whether 
 Hunter had departed. He shook his head and shrugged his 
 shoulders to intimate that he did not know. 
 
 Philpot cautiously crossed the landing and peeped furtively 
 over the banisters, listening breathlessly. ' Was it gorn or 
 not ? ' he wondered. 
 
 He crept along on tiptoe towards Owen's room, glancing 
 left and right, the trowel in his hand, and looking like a stage 
 murderer. ' Do you think it's gorn ? ' he asked in a hoarse 
 whisper when he reached Owen's door. 
 
 1 1 don't know,' replied Owen in a low tone. 
 
 Philpot pondered. He ;;/ws/have a drink, but it would never 
 do for Hunter to see him with the bottle : he must find out 
 somehow whether he was gone or not. 
 
 At last an idea came. He would go downstairs to get some 
 more cement. Having confided this plan to Owen, he crept 
 quietly back to the room in which he had been working, then 
 he walked noisily across the landing again. 
 
 ' Got a bit of stopping to spare, Frank ? ' he asked in a loud 
 voice. 
 
 ' No,' replied Owen, ' I'm not using it.' 
 
 4 Then I suppose I'll have to go down and get some. Is there 
 anything I can bring up for you ? ' 
 
 'No, thanks,' replied Owen. 
 
 Philpot marched boldly down to the scullery, which Crass
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 had utilised as a paint shop. Crass was there, mixing some 
 colour. 
 
 1 1 want a bit of stopping,' Philpot said as he helped him- 
 self to some. 
 
 1 Is the swine gorn ? ' whispered Crass. 
 
 ' I don't know,' replied Philpot. 'Where's his bike ? ' 
 
 ' 'E always leaves it outside the gate, so's we can't see it,' 
 replied Crass. 
 
 4 Tell you what,' whispered Philpot, after a pause. ' Give 
 the boy a hempty bottle and let 'im go to the gate and look if 
 the bike's there. If Misery sees him 'e can pretend to be goin' 
 to the shop for some hoil.' 
 
 This was done. Bert went to the gate and returned immedi- 
 ately : the bike was gone. 
 
 As the good news spread through the house a chorus of 
 thanksgiving burst forth. 
 
 ' Thank Gord ! ' said one. 
 
 ' Hope he falls orf and breaks 'is bloody neck,' said 
 another. 
 
 'These Bible thumpers are all the same ; no one ever knew 
 one to be any good yet,' cried a third. 
 
 Directly, they knew for certain that he was gone, nearly 
 everyone left off work for a few minutes to curse him. Then 
 they again went on working, and now that they were relieved 
 of the embarrassment that Misery's presence inspired, they 
 made better progress. A few of them lit their pipes and smoked 
 as they worked. 
 
 One of these was old Jack Linden. He was upset by the 
 bullying he had received, and when he noticed some of the 
 others smoking he thought he would have a pipe : it might 
 steady his nerves. As a rule he did not smoke when working ; 
 it was contrary to orders. 
 
 As Philpot was returning to work again, he paused for a 
 moment to whisper to Linden, with the result that the latter 
 accompanied him upstairs. 
 
 On reaching Philpot's room the latter placed the step-ladder 
 near the cupboard, and taking down the bottle of beer handed 
 it to Linden with the remark, ' Get some of that acrost yer, 
 matey, it'll put yer right.' 
 
 While Linden was taking a hasty drink, Joe kept watch on 
 the landing outside, in case Hunter should suddenly and un- 
 expectedly reappear. 
 
 32
 
 Nimrod: A Mighty Hunter Before the Lord 
 
 When Linden was gone downstairs again, Philpot, having 
 finished what remained of the beer and hidden the bottle up 
 the chimney, resumed the work of stopping up the holes and 
 cracks in the ceiling and walls. He must make a bit of a show 
 to-night or there would be a hell of a row when Misery came 
 in the morning. 
 
 Owen worked on in a disheartened, sullen way. He felt like 
 a beaten dog. 
 
 He was more indignant on poor old Linden's account than 
 on his own, and was oppressed by a sense of impotence and 
 shameful degradation. 
 
 All his life it had been the same : incessant work under 
 similar more or less humiliating conditions, and with no more 
 result than being just able to avoid starvation. 
 
 And the future, as far as he could see, was as hopeless as 
 the past ; darker, in fact, for there would surely come a time, 
 if he lived long enough, when he would be unable to work 
 any more. 
 
 He thought of his child. Was he to be a slave and a drudge 
 all his life also ? It would be better for the boy to die now. 
 
 As Owen thought of his child's future, there sprung up 
 within him a feeling of hatred and fury against the majority 
 of his fellow workmen. 
 
 They were the enemy those ragged trousered philan- 
 thropists who not only quietly submitted like so many cattle 
 to their miserable slavery for the benefit of others, but de- 
 fended it, and opposed and ridiculed any suggestion of reform. 
 
 They were the real oppressors the men who spoke of them- 
 selves as 'the likes of us,' who, having lived in poverty and 
 degradation all their lives, considered that what had been 
 good enough for them was good enough for the children they 
 had been the means of bringing into existence. 
 
 He hated and despised them, because they calmly saw their 
 children condemned to hard labour and poverty for life, and 
 deliberately refused to make any effort to secure better con- 
 ditions for them than they had for themselves. 
 
 It was because they were indifferent to the fate of their 
 children that he would be unable to secure a natural and 
 human life for his. It was their apathy or active opposition 
 that made it impossible to establish a better system of society, 
 under which those who did their fair share of the world's 
 work would be honoured and rewarded. Instead of helping to 
 
 c 33
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 do this, they abased themselves and grovelled before their 
 oppressors, and compelled and taught their children to do the 
 same. They were the people who were really responsible for 
 the continuance of the present system. 
 
 Owen laughed bitterly to himself. What a very comical 
 system it was. 
 
 Those who worked were looked upon with contempt and 
 subjected to every possible indignity. Nearly everything they 
 produced was taken away from them and enjoyed by the 
 people who did nothing. And then the workers bowed down 
 and grovelled before those who had robbed them of the fruits 
 of their labour, and were childishly grateful to them for leav- 
 ing anything at all. 
 
 No wonder the rich despised them and looked upon them 
 as dirt. They were despicable. They were dirt. 
 
 And they admitted it and gloried in it. 
 
 While these thoughts were seething in Owen's mind, his 
 fellow workmen still patiently toiled on downstairs. Most of 
 them had by this time dismissed Hunter from their thoughts. 
 They did not take things as seriously as Owen. They flatter- 
 ed themselves that they had too much sense. It could not be 
 altered. Grin and bear it. After all, it was only for life ! Make 
 the best of things, and get your own back whenever you get 
 a chance. 
 
 Presently Harlow began to sing. He had a good voice and 
 it was a good song, but his mates just then did not appreciate 
 either one or the other. His singing was the signal for an out- 
 burst of exclamations and catcalls. 
 
 ' Shut it, for Christ's sake ! ' 
 
 ' That's enough of that bloody row ! ' 
 
 And so on. 
 
 Harlow stopped. 
 
 ' How's the enemy ? ' asked Easton, presently, addressing 
 no one in particular. 
 
 ' Don't know,' replied Bundy. 'It must be about half past 
 four. Ask Slyme, he's got a watch.' 
 
 It was a quarter past four. 
 
 ' It gets dark very early now,' said Easton. 
 
 'Yes,' replied Bundy, 'it's been very dull all day. I think 
 it's goin' to rain. Listen to the wind.' 
 
 ' I 'ope not,' replied Easton. ' That means a wet shirt goin' 
 'ome.' 
 
 34
 
 Nimrod: A Mighty Hunter Before the Lord 
 
 He called out to old Jack Linden, who was still working at 
 the front doors : 
 
 ' Is it raining, Jack ? ' 
 
 Old Jack, his pipe still in his mouth, turned to look at the 
 weather. It was raining, but Linden did not see the large drops 
 which splashed heavily upon the ground. He saw only Hunter, 
 who was standing at the gate watching him. Fora few seconds 
 the two men looked at each other in silence. Linden was 
 paralysed with fear. Recovering himself, he hastily removed 
 his pipe, but it was too late. 
 
 Misery strode up. 
 
 'I don't pay you for smoking,' he said, loudly. 'Make out 
 your time sheet, take it to the office and get your money. 
 I've had enough of you ! ' 
 
 Jack made no attempt to defend himself: he knew it was of 
 no use. He silently put aside the things he had been using, 
 went into the room where he had left his tool-bag and coat, 
 removed his apron and white jacket, folded them up and put 
 them into his tool-bag along with his tools a chisel knife and 
 a shavehook put on his coat, and, with the tool-bag slung 
 over his shoulder, went away from the house. 
 
 Without speaking to anyone else, Hunter hastily walked 
 over the place, noting what progress had been made by each 
 man during his absence. He then rode a\\ay, as he wanted to 
 get to the office in time to give Linden his money. 
 
 It was now very cold and dark within the house, and as the 
 gas was not yet laid on, Crass distributed a number of candles 
 to the men, who worked silently, each occupied with his own 
 gloomy thoughts. Who would be next ? 
 
 Outside, sombre masses of lead-coloured clouds gathered 
 ominously in the sky. The gale roared round the old-fashioned 
 house, and the windows rattled discordantly. Rain fell in 
 torrents. 
 
 They said it meant getting wet through going home, but, all 
 the same, Thank God it was nearly five o'clock. 
 
 35
 
 CHAPTER III 
 THE FINANCIERS 
 
 THAT night as Easton walked home through the rain he felt 
 very depressed. It had been a bad summer for most people, 
 and he had fared no better than the rest. 
 
 He was a man of medium height, about twenty-three years 
 old, with fair hair and moustache and blue eyes. He wore a 
 stand-up collar with a coloured tie, and his clothes, though 
 shabby, were clean and neat. 
 
 He was married. His wife was a young woman whose 
 acquaintance he had made when he happened to be employed 
 with others painting the outside of the house where she was 
 a general servant. They had ' walked out ' for about fifteen 
 months. Easton had been in no hurry to marry, for he knew 
 that, taking good times with bad, his wages did not average 
 a pound a week. At the end of that time, however, he found 
 that he could not honourably delay longer, so they were 
 married. 
 
 That was twelve months ago. 
 
 As a single man he had never troubled much if he happened 
 to be out of work ; he always had enough to live on, and pocket 
 money besides, but now that he was married it was different : 
 the fear of being 'out' haunted him. 
 
 He had started for Rushton and Company on the 
 previous Monday, after having been idle for three weeks, and 
 as ' The Cave ' had to be done right through, he had con- 
 gratulated himself on having secured a job that would last till 
 Christmas. But he now began to fear that what had befallen 
 Jack Linden might also happen to himself at any time. He 
 would have to be very careful not to offend Crass in any way, 
 for he knew that Crass could get him the sack at any time, 
 and would not scruple to do so if he wanted to make room for 
 some crony of his own. Although Crass was the ' coddy ' or 
 foreman of the job, he had no very unusual abilities, and was 
 
 36
 
 The Financiers 
 
 if anything inferior to the majority of his fellow-workmen' 
 But he pretented to know everything, and his vague references 
 to 'tones 'and 'shades 'and 'harmony 'had impressed Hunter, 
 who entertained a high opinion of his capacity. It was by 
 pushing himself forward in this way, and by judicious toady- 
 ing, that Crass managed to get himself put in charge of the job. 
 
 But though he did as little work as possible himself, he took 
 care that the others worked hard. Any man who failed to 
 satisfy him in this respect he reported to Hunter as being ' no 
 good ' or ' too slow for a funeral.' The result was that that 
 man was dispensed with at the end of the week. 
 
 As he walked along, Easton realised that it was not possible 
 to foresee what a day or even an hour might bring forth. 
 
 By this time he had arrived at his home a small house, 
 one of a long row, and containing four rooms. 
 
 The front door opened into a narrow passage, covered with 
 oilcloth. At the end of this passage was a flight of stairs lead- 
 ing to the upper part of the house. The first door on the left 
 led into the front sitting-room, an apartment about nine feet 
 square, with a bay window. This room was very rarely used 
 and was always very tidy and clean. 
 
 The mantelpiece was of wood, painted black and ornamented 
 with jagged streaks of red and yellow, which were supposed 
 to give it the appearance of marble. The wall paper was a 
 pale terra cotta with a pattern of large white roses and 
 chocolate-coloured leaves and stalks. 
 
 There was a small iron fender with fire-irons to match, and 
 on the mantel-shelf stood a clock in a polished wood case, a 
 pair of blue glass vases, and some photographs in frames. The 
 floor was covered with oilcloth of a tile pattern in yellow and 
 red. On the walls were two or three framed coloured prints such 
 as are presented with Christmas numbers of illustrated papers. 
 There was also a photograph of a group of Sunday school 
 girls with their teachers, with the church for the background. 
 In the centre of the room was a round deal table about three 
 feet six inches across, the legs stained red to look like mahogany. 
 Against one wall was an old couch covered with faded cretonne, 
 four chairs to match standing with their backs to the wall in 
 different parts of the room. The table was covered with a red 
 cloth with a yellow crewel-work design in the centre. And on 
 the table were a lamp and a number of brightly-bound books. 
 
 Some of these things, the couch and the chairs, Easton 
 
 37
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 had bought second-hand and had done up himself. The table, 
 oilcloth, fender, hearthrug, etc., had been obtained on the hire 
 system and were not yet paid for. The windows were draped 
 with white lace curtains, and in the bay was a small bamboo 
 table on which reposed a large Holy Bible, cheaply but 
 showily bound. 
 
 If anyone had ever opened this book they would have found 
 that its pages were as clean as the other things in the room, 
 and on the fly-leaf might have been read the following in- 
 scription : 'To dear Ruth, from her loving friend Mrs 
 Starvem, with the prayer that God's Word may be her guide 
 and that Jesus may be her very own Saviour. Oct. 12, 19 .' 
 
 Mrs Starvem was Ruth's former mistress, and this had 
 been her parting gift when Ruth left to get married. It was 
 supposed to be a keepsake, but Ruth never opened the book 
 and never willingly allowed her thoughts to dwell upon the 
 scenes of which it reminded her. 
 
 For the memory of the time she spent in the house of 'her 
 loving friend ' was the reverse of pleasant. It comprised a 
 series of recollections of petty tyrannies, insults and in- 
 dignities. Six years of cruelly excessive work, beginning 
 every morning two or three hours before the rest of the house- 
 hold were awake, and ceasing only when she went exhausted 
 to bed late at night. 
 
 She had been what is called a 'slavey,' but if she had been 
 really a slave her owner would have had some regard for her 
 health and welfare ; her ' loving friend ' had had none. Mrs 
 Starvem's only thought had been to get the greatest possible 
 amount of labour out of Ruth and to give her as little as 
 possible in return. 
 
 When Ruth looked back upon that dreadful time she saw 
 it, as one might say, surrounded by a halo of religion. She 
 never passed by a chapel, or heard the name of God or the 
 singing of a hymn, without thinking of her former mistress. 
 To have looked into this Bible would have reminded her of 
 Mrs Starvem ; that was one of the reasons why the book re- 
 posed unopened and unread, a mere ornament on the table 
 in the bay window. 
 
 The second door in the passage, near the foot of the stairs, 
 led into the kitchen or living room ; from here another door 
 led into the scullery, and upstairs were two bedrooms. 
 
 As Easton entered the house his wife met him in the passage 
 
 38
 
 The Financiers 
 
 and asked him not to make a noise as the child had just gone 
 to sleep. They kissed each other and she helped him to remove 
 his wet overcoat. Then they both went softly into the kitchen. 
 
 This room was about the same size as the sitting-room. At 
 one end was a small range with an oven and a boiler, a high 
 mantelpiece painted black. On the mantel-shelf was a round 
 alarm clock and some brightly-polished tin canisters. At the 
 other end of the room, facing the fireplace, was a small dresser, 
 on the shelves of which were neatly arranged a number of plates 
 and dishes. The walls were papered with oak paper. On one 
 wall, between two coloured almanacks, hung a tin lamp with a 
 reflector behind the light. In the middle of the room was an 
 oblong deal table with a white tablecloth, upon which the tea 
 things were set ready. There were four kitchen chairs, two 
 of which were placed close to the table. Overhead, about 
 eighteen inches from the ceiling, were stretched several cords 
 upon which were drying a number of linen or calico under- 
 garments, a coloured shirt, and Easton's white apron and 
 jacket. On the back of a chair at one side of the fire more 
 clothes were drying. At the other side, on the floor, was a 
 wicker cradle in which a baby was sleeping. Near by stood 
 a chair with a towel hung on the back, arranged so as to 
 shade the infant's face from the light of the lamp. An air of 
 homely comfort pervaded the room; the atmosphere was 
 warm, and the fire blazed cheerfully over the whitened hearth. 
 
 They walked softly to the cradle and stood looking at the 
 child, who kept turning uneasily in its sleep. Its face was very 
 flushed and its eyes were moving under the half-closed lids. 
 Every now and again its lips were drawn back slightly, show- 
 ing part of the gums ; presently it began to whimper, drawing 
 up its knees as if in pain. 
 
 ' He seems to have something wrong with him,' said Easton. 
 
 ' I think it's his teeth,' replied the mother. ' He's been very 
 restless all day and he was awake nearly all last night.' 
 
 1 P'raps he's hungry.' 
 
 ' No, it can't be that. He had the best part of an egg this 
 morning, and I've nursed him several times to-day. And then 
 at dinner-time he had a whole saucer full of fried potato with 
 little bits of bacon in it.' 
 
 Again the infant whimpered and twisted in its sleep, its lips 
 drawn back, showing the gums ; its knees pressed closely to 
 its bod}', the little fists clenched, and face flushed. Then after 
 
 39
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 a few seconds it became placid, the mouth resumed its usual 
 shape, the limbs relaxed, and the child slumbered peacefully. 
 
 1 Don't you think he's getting thin ? ' asked Easton. ' It may 
 be fancy, but he don't seem to me to be as big now as he was 
 three months ago.' 
 
 'No, he's not quite so fat,' admitted Ruth. 'It's his teeth 
 what's wearing him out ; he don't hardly get no rest at all 
 with them.' 
 
 They continued looking at him a little longer. Ruth thought 
 he was a very beautiful child ; he would be eight months old 
 on Sunday. They were sorry they could do nothing to ease his 
 pain, but consoled themselves with the reflection that he 
 would be all right once those teeth were through. 
 
 'Well, let's have some tea,' said Easton at last. 
 
 Whilst he placed his wet boots and socks in front of the 
 fire, and put on dry socks and a pair of slippers in their stead, 
 Ruth half filled a tin basin with hot water from the boiler and 
 gave it to him, and he then went into the scullery, added some 
 cold water and began to wash the paint off his hands. This 
 done, he returned to the kitchen and sat down at the table. 
 
 ' I couldn't think what to give you'to eat to-night/ said Ruth, 
 as she poured out the tea. ' I hadn't got no money left and 
 there wasn't nothing in the house except bread and butter and 
 that piece of cheese. So I cut some bread and butter and put 
 some thin slices of cheese on it and toasted it on a plate in 
 front of the fire. I hope you'll like it : it was the best I could do.' 
 
 'That's all right ; it smells very nice, anyway, and I'm very 
 hungry.' 
 
 As they were taking their tea, Easton told his wife about 
 Linden's affair and his apprehensions as to what might befall 
 himself. They were both very indignant, and sorry for poor 
 old Linden, but their sympathy for him was soon almost for- 
 gotten in their fears for their own immediate future. 
 
 They remained at the table in silence for some time, then : 
 
 ' How much rent do we owe now ? ' asked Easton. 
 
 ' Four weeks, and I promised the collector the last time he 
 called that we'd pay two weeks next Monday. He was quite 
 nasty about it.' 
 
 ' Well, I suppose you'll have to pay it, that's all,' said Easton. 
 
 ' How much money will you have to-morrow ? ' asked Ruth. 
 
 He began to reckon up his time*: he had started on Monday 
 and to-day was Friday ; five days from seven to five, less half 
 
 40
 
 The Financiers 
 
 an hour for breakfast, and an hour for dinner, eight and a 
 half hours a day forty-two hours and a half. At sevenpence 
 an hour that came to one pound four and ninepence halfpenny. 
 
 'You know I only started on Monday,' he said, 'so there's 
 no back day to come. To-morrow goes into next week.' 
 
 'Yes, I know,' replied Ruth. 
 
 4 If we pay the two weeks' rent, that'll leave us twelve 
 shillings to live on.' 
 
 4 But we won't be able to keep all that,' said Ruth, ' because 
 there's other things to pay.' 
 
 ' What other things ? ' 
 
 4 We owe the baker eight shillings for the bread he let us 
 have while you were not working, and there's about twelve 
 shillings owing for groceries. We'll have to pay them some- 
 thing on account. Then we want some more coal ; there's only 
 about a shovelful left, and 
 
 4 Wait a minit,' said Easton. 4 The best way is to write out 
 a list of everything we owe ; then we shall know exactly where 
 we are. You get me a piece of paper and tell me what to write. 
 Then we'll see what it all comes to.' 
 
 1 Do you mean everything we owe, or everything we must 
 pay to-morrow.' 
 
 4 1 think we'd better make a list of all we owe, first.' 
 
 While they were talking the baby was sleeping restlessly, 
 occasionally uttering plaintive little cries. The mother now 
 went and knelt at the side of the cradle, which she gently 
 rocked with one hand, patting the infant with the other. 
 
 ' Except the furniture people, the biggest thing we owe is 
 the rent,' she said when Easton was ready to begin. 
 
 4 It seems to me,' said he, as after having cleared a space 
 on the table, and arranged the paper he began to sharpen 
 his pencil with a table-knife, 4 that you don't manage things 
 as well as you might. If you was to make out a list of just the 
 things you must have before you went out of a Saturday, you'd 
 find the money would go much farther. Instead of doing that 
 you just take the money in your hand, without knowing ex- 
 actly what you're going to do with it, and when you come back 
 it's all gone and next to nothing to show for it.' 
 
 His wife made no reply : her head was bent down over the 
 child. 
 
 4 Now, let's see,' went on her husband. 4 First of all there's 
 the rent. How much did you say we owe ? ' 
 
 41
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 ' Four weeks. That's the three weeks you was out and this 
 week.' 
 
 ' Four sixes is twenty-four ; that's one pound four,' said 
 Easton, as he wrote it down. ' Next ? ' 
 
 ' Grocer, twelve shillings.' 
 
 Easton looked up in astonishment. 
 
 ' Twelve shillings. Why, didn't you tell me only the other 
 day that you'd paid up all we owed for groceries ? ' 
 
 ' Don't you remember we owed thirty-five shillings last 
 spring ? Well, I've been paying that bit by bit all the summer. 
 I paid the last of it the week you finished your last job. Then 
 you was out three weeks up till last Saturday and as we 
 had nothing in hand I had to get what we wanted without 
 paying for it.' 
 
 4 But do you mean to say it costs us three shillings a week 
 for tea and sugar and butter ? ' 
 
 4 It's not only them. There's been bacon and eggs and cheese 
 and other things.' 
 
 The man was beginning to become impatient. 
 
 'Well,' he said, 'what else?' 
 
 4 We owe the baker eight shillings. We did owe nearly a 
 pound, but I've been paying it off a little at a time.' 
 
 This was added to the list. 
 
 ' Then there's the milkman. I've not paid him for four weeks. 
 He hasn't sent a bill yet, but you can reckon it up ; we have 
 two penn'orth every day.' 
 
 'That's four and eight,' said Easton, writing it down. 'Any- 
 thing else ? ' 
 
 ' One and seven to the greengrocer for potatoes, cabbage, 
 and paraffin oil.' 
 
 'Anything else ?' 
 
 ' We owe the butcher two and sevenpence.' 
 
 'Why, we haven't had any meat for a long time," said 
 Easton. ' When was it ? ' 
 
 ' Three weeks ago ; don't you remember ? A small leg of 
 mutton.' 
 
 'Oh, yes,' and he added the item. 
 
 ' Then there's the instalments for the furniture and oilcloth 
 twelve shillings. A letter came from them to-day. And there's 
 something else.' 
 
 She took three letters from the pocket of her dress and 
 handed them to him. 
 
 42
 
 The Financiers 
 
 'They all came to-day. I didn't show them to you before, 
 as I didn't want to upset you before you had your tea.' 
 Easton drew the first letter from its envelope. 
 
 CORPORATION OF MUGSBOROUGH 
 General District and Special Rates 
 
 FINAL NOTICE 
 
 MR W. EASTON, 
 
 I have to remind you that the amount due from 
 you as under, in respect of the above Rates, has not been 
 paid, and to request that you will forward the 'same within 
 Fourteen Days from this date. 
 
 You are hereby informed that after this notice no further 
 call will be made, or intimation given, before legal proceedings 
 are taken to enforce payment. 
 
 By order of the Council. 
 
 JAMES LEAH, 
 Collector, No. 2. District. 
 
 District Rate 13 n 
 
 Special Rate 10 2 
 
 The second communication was dated from the office of the 
 Assistant Overseer of the Poor. It was also a Final Notice, 
 and was worded in almost exactly the same wa}' as the other, 
 the principal difference being that it was ' By order of the 
 Overseers,' instead of 'The Council.' It demanded the sum of 
 1 i 5^ for Poor Rate within fourteen days, and threatened 
 legal proceedings in default. 
 
 Easton laid this down and began to read the third letter : 
 
 J. DIDLUM & CO., LTD., 
 
 Complete House Furnishers, 
 QUALITY STREET, MUGSBOROUGH. 
 
 Mr W. EASTON, 
 SIR, 
 
 We have to remind you that three monthly payments 
 of four shillings each (125. in all) became due on the first of 
 
 43
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 this month, and we must request you to let us have this 
 amount by return of post. 
 
 Under the terms of your agreement you guaranteed that 
 the money should be paid on Saturday of every fourth week. 
 To prevent unpleasantness, we must request you for the future 
 to forward the full amount punctually upon that day. 
 
 Yours truly, 
 J. DIDLUM & Co., LTD. 
 
 He read these communications several times in silence, and 
 finally with an oath threw them down on the table. 
 
 ' How much do we still owe for the oilcloth and the furni- 
 ture ? ' he asked. 
 
 ' I don't know exactly. It was seven pound odd, and we've 
 had the things about six months. We paid one pound down 
 and three or four instalments. I'll get you the card if you like.' 
 
 ' No, never mind. Say we've paid one pound twelve ; so we 
 still owe about six pound.' 
 
 He added this amount to the list. 
 
 1 1 think it's a great pity we ever had the things at all, ' he said, 
 peevishly. 'It would have been much better to have gone with- 
 out until we could pay cash for them; but you would have your 
 way, of course. Now we'll have this bloody debt dragging on us 
 for years, and before the dam stuff is paid for it'll be worn out.' 
 
 The woman did not reply at once. She was bending down 
 over the cradle arranging the coverings which the restless 
 movements of the child had disordered. She was crying 
 silently, unnoticed by her husband. 
 
 For months past in fact ever since the child was born 
 she had been existing without sufficient food. If Easton was 
 unemployed they had to stint themselves so as to avoid getting 
 further into debt than was absolutely necessary. When he 
 was working they had to go short in order to pay what they 
 owed ; but of what there was Easton himself, without knowing 
 it, always had the greater share. If he was at work she would 
 pack into his dinner basket over-night the best there was in 
 the house. When he was out of work she often pretended, as 
 she gave him his meals, that she had had hers while he was 
 out. And all this time the baby was draining her life away, 
 and her work was never done. 
 
 She felt very weak and weary as she crouched over there, 
 crying furtively and trying not to let him see. 
 
 44
 
 The Financiers 
 
 At last she said, without looking round : 
 
 4 You know quite well that you was just as much in favour 
 of getting them as I was. If we hadn't got the oilcloth there 
 would have been illness in the house because of the way the 
 wind used to come up between the floorboards. Even now of 
 a windy day the oilcloth moves up and down.' 
 
 'Well, I'm sure I don't know,' said Easton, as he looked 
 alternately at the list of debts and the three letters, ' I give 
 you nearly every farthing I earn and I never interfere about 
 anything, because I think it's your part to attend to the house, 
 but it seems to me you don't manage things properly.' 
 
 The woman suddenly burst into a passion of weeping, lay- 
 ing her head on the seat of the chair that was standing near 
 the cradle. 
 
 Easton started up in surprise. 
 
 1 Why, what's the matter ? ' he said. 
 
 Then as he looked down upon the quivering form of the 
 sobbing woman he was ashamed. He knelt down by her, em- 
 bracing her and apologising, protesting that he had not meant 
 to hurt her like that. 
 
 ' I always do the best I can with the money,' Ruth sobbed. 
 4 1 never spend a farthing on myself, but you don't seem to 
 understand how hard it is. I don't care nothing about having 
 to go without things myself, but I can't bear it when you speak 
 to me like you do lately. You seem to blame me for everything. 
 You usen't to speak to me like that before I before . Oh, I 
 am so tired I am so tired, I wish I could lie down somewhere 
 and sleep and never wake up any more.' 
 
 She turned away from him, half kneeling, half sitting on the 
 floor, her arms folded on the seat of the chair, and her head 
 resting upon them. She was crying in a heartbroken, help- 
 less way. 
 
 ' I'm sorry I spoke to you like that,' said Easton, awkwardly, 
 1 1 didn't mean what I said. It's all my fault. I leave things 
 too much to you, and it's more that you can be expected to 
 manage. I'll help you to think things out in future, only for- 
 give me, I'm very sorry. I know you try your best.' 
 
 She suffered him to draw her to him, laying her head on 
 his shoulder as he kissed and fondled her, protesting that he 
 would rather be poor and hungry with her than share riches 
 with anyone else. 
 
 The child in the cradle who had been twisting and turn- 
 
 45
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 ing restlessly all this time now began to cry loudly. The 
 mother took it up and began to hush and soothe it, walk- 
 ing about the room and rocking it in her arms. The child, 
 however, continued to scream, so she sat down to nurse it. 
 For a little while the infant refused to take anything, strugg- 
 ling and kicking in its mother's arms, then for a few minutes 
 it was quiet, feeding in a half-hearted, fretful way. Then it 
 again began to scream and twist and struggle. 
 
 They both looked at it in a helpless manner. Whatever could 
 be the matter with it ? It must be those teeth. 
 
 Suddenly as they were soothing and patting him, the child 
 vomited a mass of undigested food all over its own and its 
 mother's clothing. Mingled with the curdled milk were frag- 
 ments of egg, little bits of bacon, bread, and particles of potato. 
 
 Having rid his stomach of this unnatural burden, the un- 
 fortunate baby began to cry afresh, his face very pale, his lips 
 colourless, and his eyes red-rimmed and running with water. 
 
 Easton walked about with him while Ruth cleaned up the 
 mess and got ready some fresh clothing. They both agreed 
 that it was the coming teeth that had upset the poor child's 
 digestion. It would be a good job when they were through. 
 
 This work finished, Easton, who was still convinced in his 
 own mind that with the aid of a little common sense and 
 judicious management their affairs might be arranged more 
 satisfactorily, said : 
 
 ' We may as well make a list of all the things we must pay 
 and buy to-morrow. The great thing is to think out exactly 
 what you are going to do before you spend anything ; that 
 saves 3 r ou from getting things you don't really need and pre- 
 vents you forgetting the things you must have. Now, first ot 
 all, the rent ; two weeks, twelve shillings.' 
 
 He took a fresh piece of paper and wrote this item down. 
 
 ' What else is there that we must pay or buy to-morrow ? ' 
 
 1 Well, you know I promised the baker and the grocer that 
 I would begin to pay them directly you got a job, and if I 
 don't keep my word they won't let us have anything another 
 time, so you'd better put down two shillings each for them.' 
 
 ' I've got that,' said Easton. 
 
 1 Two-and-seven for the butcher. We must pay that. I'm 
 ashamed to pass the shop, because when I got the meat I 
 promised to pay him the next week and it's nearly three weeks 
 ago now.' 
 
 46
 
 The Financiers 
 
 ' I've put that down. What else? ' 
 
 'A hundred of coal, one-and-six.' 
 
 1 Next ? ' 
 
 'The instalment for the furniture and floorcloth, twelve 
 shillings.' 
 
 'Next?' 
 
 ' We owe the milkman four weeks ; we'd better pay one 
 week on account ; that's one-and-two.' 
 
 1 Next ? ' 
 
 'The greengrocer, one shilling on account.' 
 
 ' Anything else ? ' 
 
 1 We shall want a piece of meat of some kind, we've had 
 none for nearly three weeks. You'd better say one-and-six 
 for that.' 
 
 'That's down.' 
 
 ' One-and-nine for bread ; that's one loaf a day.' 
 
 ' But I've got two shillings down for bread already,' said 
 Easton. 
 
 'Yes, I know, dear, but that's to go towards paying off 
 what we owe, and what you have down for the grocer and 
 milkman's the same.' 
 
 ' Well, go on, for Christ's sake, and let's get it done,' said 
 Easton irritably. 
 
 ' We can't say less than three shillings for groceries.' 
 
 Easton looked carefully at his list. This time he felt sure 
 that the item was already down ; but finding he was mistaken 
 he said nothing and added the amount. 
 
 | Well, I've got that What else ? ' 
 
 1 Milk, one-and-two.' 
 
 ' Next ? ' 
 
 'Vegetables, eightpence.' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 ' Paraffin oil and firewood, sixpence.' 
 
 Again the financier scrutinised the list. He was positive that 
 it was down already. However, he could not find it, so the 
 sixpence was added to the column of figures. 
 
 ' Then there's your boots ; you can't go about with them old 
 things in this weather much longer, and they won't stand 
 mending again. You remember the man said they wasn't worth 
 it when you had that patch put on a few weeks ago.' 
 
 ' Yes. I was thinking of buying a new pair to-morrow. My 
 socks was wet through to-night. If it's ra ; ning some morning 
 
 47
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 when I'm going out and I have to work all day with wet feet 
 I shall be laid up.' 
 
 'At that second-hand shop down in High Street I saw a 
 very good pair when I was out this afternoon, just your size, 
 for two shillings.' 
 
 Easton did not reply at once. He did not much fancy wear- 
 ing the cast-off boots of some stranger, who for all he knew, 
 might have suffered from some disease, but then remembering 
 that his old ones were literally falling off his feet he realised 
 that he had practically no choice. 
 
 ' If you're quite sure they'll fit you'd better get them. It's 
 better to do that than for me to catch cold and be laid up for 
 God knows how long.' 
 
 So the two shillings were added to the list. 
 
 ' Is there anything else ? ' 
 . ' How much does it come to now ? ' asked Ruth. 
 
 Easton added it all up. When he had finished he remained 
 staring at the figures in consternation for a long time without 
 speaking. 
 
 'Jesus Christ ! ' he ejaculated at last. 
 
 ' What's it come to ? ' asked Ruth. 
 
 ' Forty-four-and-tenpence.' 
 
 ' I knew we wouldn't have enough,' said Ruth, wearily. 'Now 
 if you think I manage so badly, p'raps you can tell me which 
 of those things we ought to leave out.' 
 
 'We'd be all right if it wasn't for the debts,' said Easton, 
 doggedly. 
 
 'When you're not working we must either get into debt or 
 starve.' 
 
 Easton made no answer. 
 
 ' What'll we do about the rates? ' asked Ruth. 
 
 ' I'm sure I don't know ; there's nothing left to pawn except 
 my black coat and vest. You might get something on that.' 
 
 'It'll have to be paid somehow,' said Ruth, 'or you'll be 
 taken off to jail for a month, the same as Mrs Newman's 
 husband was last winter.' 
 
 ' Well, you'd better take the coat and vest and see what 
 you can get on 'em to morrow.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Ruth, ' and there's that brown silk dress of mine 
 you know the one I wore when we was married I might 
 get something on that, because we won't get enough on the 
 coat and vest. I don't like parting with the dress, although I 
 
 48
 
 The Financiers 
 
 never wear it ; but we'll be sure to be able to get it out again, 
 won't we ? ' 
 
 'Of course,' said Easton. 
 
 They remained silent for some time, Easton staring at the 
 list of debts and the letters. She was wondering if he still 
 thought she managed badly, and what he would do about it. 
 She knew she had always done her best. 
 
 At last she said, wistfully, trying hard to speak plainly, for 
 there seemed to be a lump in her throat : 
 
 'And what about to-morrow ? Would you like to spend the 
 money yourself, or shall I manage as I've done before, or will 
 you tell me what to do ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know, dear,' said Easton sheepishly. ' I think you'd 
 better do as you think best.' 
 
 ' Oh, I'll manage all right, dear, you'll see,' replied Ruth, 
 who seemed to think it a sort of honour to be allowed to starve 
 herself and to wear shabby clothes. 
 
 The baby, who had been for some time quietly sitting up 
 on his mother's lap, looking wonderingly at the fire his teeth 
 appeared to trouble him less since he got rid of the eggs and 
 bacon and potatoes now began to nod and dose, which 
 Easton perceiving, suggested that the infant should not be 
 allowed to go to sleep with an empty stomach, because it 
 would probably wake up hungry in the middle of the night. 
 He therefore woke him up as much as possible and mashed 
 a little of the bread and toasted cheese with a little warm milk. 
 Then taking the baby from Ruth he began to try to induce it 
 to eat. As soon, however, as the child understood his object, 
 it began to scream at the top of its voice, closing its lips firmly 
 and turning its head rapidly from side to side, every time the 
 spoon approached its mouth. It made such a dreadful noise 
 that Easton at last gave in. He began to walk about the room 
 with it, and presently the child sobbed itself to sleep. 
 
 After putting the baby into its cradle Ruth set about pre- 
 paring Easton's breakfast and packing it into his basket. This 
 did not take very long, there being only bread and butter 
 or to be more correct, margarine. 
 
 Then she poured what tea was left in the tea-pot into a small 
 saucepan and placed it on the top of the oven, but away from 
 the fire ; cut two more slices of bread and spread on them all 
 the margarine that was left ; then put them on a plate on the 
 table, covering them with a saucer to prevent them getting hard 
 D 49
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 and dry during the night. Near the plate she placed a clean 
 cup and saucer and the milk and sugar- 
 
 In the morning Easton would light the fire and warm up 
 the tea in the saucepan so as to have a cup of tea before going 
 out. If Ruth was awake and he was not too pressed for time 
 he generally took a cup of tea to her in bed. 
 
 Nothing now remained to be done but to put some coal and 
 wood ready in the fender so that there would be no unnecessary 
 delay in the morning. 
 
 The baby was still sleeping and Ruth did not like to wake 
 him up yet to dress him for the night. Easton was sitting by 
 the fire smoking, so everything being done, Ruth sat down at 
 the table and began sewing. Presently she spoke : 
 
 1 1 wish you'd let me try to let that back room upstairs ; the 
 woman next door has got hers let unfurnished to an elderly 
 woman and her husband for two shillings a week. If we could 
 get someone like that it would be better than having an empty 
 room in the house.' 
 
 'And we'd always have them messing about down here, 
 cooking and washing and one thing and another,' objected 
 Easton. 'They'd be more trouble than they was worth.' 
 
 'Well, we might try and furnish it. There's Mrs Crass 
 across the road has got two lodgers in one room. They pay 
 her twelve shillings a week each ; board, lodging, and wash- 
 ing. That's one pound four she has coming in reg'lar every 
 week. If we could do the same we'd very soon be out of debt.' 
 
 ' What's the good of talking ? You'd never be able to do the 
 work even if we had the furniture.' 
 
 'Oh, the work's nothing,' replied Ruth, 'and as for the fur- 
 niture, we've got plenty of spare bed-clothes, and we could 
 easily manage without a washstand in our room for a bit, so 
 the only thing we really want is a small bedstead and mattress ; 
 we could get them very cheap second-hand.' 
 
 There ought to be a chest of drawers, 1 said Easton doubtfully. 
 
 ' I don't think so,' replied Ruth. ' There's a cupboard in the 
 room, and whoever took it would be sure to have a box.' 
 
 'Well, if you think you can do the work I've no objection,' 
 said Easton. ' It'll be a nuisance having a stranger in the way 
 all the time, but I suppose we must do something of the sort 
 or else we'll have to give up the house and take a couple of 
 rooms somewhere. That would be worse than having lodgers 
 ourselves.' 
 
 50
 
 The Financiers 
 
 'Let's go and have a look at the room,' he added, getting 
 up and taking the lamp from the wall. 
 
 They had to go up two flights of stairs before arriving at 
 the top landing, where there were two doors, one leading into 
 the front room their bedroom and the other into the empty 
 back room. These two doors were at right angles to each other. 
 The wallpaper in the back room was damaged and soiled in 
 several places. 
 
 4 There's nearly a whole roll of this paper on the top of the 
 cupboard,' said Ruth, 'you could easily mend all those places. 
 We could hang up a few almanacks on the walls ; our wash- 
 stand could go there by the window ; a chair just there, and 
 the bed along that wall behind the door. It's only a small 
 window, so I can easily manage to make a curtain out of some- 
 thing. I'm sure I could make the room look quite nice without 
 spending hardly anything.' 
 
 Easton reached down the roll of paper. It was the same 
 pattern as that on the wall. The latter was a good deal faded, of 
 course, but it would not matter much if the patches showed a 
 little. 
 
 They returned to the kitchen. 
 
 ' Do you think you know anyone who would take it ? ' asked 
 Ruth. 
 
 Easton smoked thoughtfully. 
 
 ' No,' he said at length. ' But I'll mention it to one or two of 
 the chaps on the job ; they might know of someone. 1 
 
 ' And I'll get Mrs Crass to ask her lodgers ; p'raps they 
 might have a friend what would like to live near them.' 
 
 So it was settled ; and as the fire was nearly out and it was 
 getting late, they prepared to retire for the night. The baby 
 was still sleeping, so Easton lifted it, cradle and all, and carried 
 it up the narrow staircase into the front bedroom, Ruth lead- 
 ing the way, carrying the lamp and some clothes for the child. 
 So that the infant might be within easy reach of its mother 
 during the night, two chairs were arranged close to her side 
 of the bed and the cradle placed on them. 
 
 ' Now we've forgot the clock,' said Easton, pausing. He was 
 half undressed, and had already removed his slippers. 
 
 1 I'll slip down and get it,' said Ruth. 
 'Never mind, I'll go,' said Easton, beginning to put his 
 slippers on again. 
 
 1 No, you get into bed. I've not started undressing yet ; 
 
 51
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 I'll get it,' replied Ruth, who was already on her way 
 down. 
 
 ' I don't know as it was worth the trouble of going down,' 
 said Ruth, when she returned with the clock. ' It stopped three 
 or four times to-day.' 
 
 'Well, I hope it don't stop in the night,' Easton said. 'It 
 would be a bit of all right not knowing what time it was in the 
 morning. I suppose the next thing will be that we'll have to 
 buy a new clock.' 
 
 He woke several times during the night and struck a match 
 to see if it was yet time to get up. At half past two the clock 
 was still going and he again fell asleep. The next time he woke 
 up the ticking had ceased. He wondered what time it was. It 
 was still very dark, but that was nothing to go by because it 
 was always dark at six now. He was wide awake ; it must be 
 nearly time to get up. It would never do to be late ; he might 
 get the sack. 
 
 He got up and dressed himself. Ruth was asleep, so he crept 
 quietly downstairs, lit the fire, and heated the tea. When it 
 was ready he went softly upstairs again. Ruth was still sleep- 
 ing, so he decided not to disturb her. Returning to the kitchen 
 he poured out and drank a cup of tea, put on his boots, over- 
 coat and hat, and taking his basket went out of the house. 
 
 The rain was still falling, and it was very cold and dark. 
 There was no one else in the street. 
 
 Easton shivered as he walked along wondering what time 
 it could be. He remembered there was a clock over the front 
 of a jeweller's shop a little way down the main road When 
 he arrived at this place he found that the clock being so high 
 up he could not see the figures on the face distinctly, because 
 it was still very dark. He stood staring for a few minutes 
 vainly trying to see what time it was, when suddenly the light 
 of a bull's-eye lantern was flashed into his eyes. 
 
 'You're about very early,' said a voice, the owner of which 
 Easton could not see. The light blinded him. 
 
 'What time is it?' said Easton, 'I've got to get to work 
 at seven and our clock stopped during the night.' 
 
 ' Where are you working ? ' 
 
 'At "The Cave," in Elmore Road. You know, near the old 
 toll gate.' 
 
 ' What are you doing here, and who are you working for ? ' 
 the policeman demanded. 
 
 52
 
 The Financiers 
 
 Easton explained. 
 
 'Well,' said the constable, ' it's very strange that you should 
 be wandering about at this hour. It's only about three quarters 
 of an hour's walk from here to Elmore Road. You say you've 
 got to get there at seven, and it's only a quarter to four now. 
 Where do you live ? What's your name ? ' 
 
 Easton gave his name and address and began repeating the 
 story about the clock having stopped. 
 
 ' What you say may be all right, or it may not,' interrupted 
 the policeman. ' I'm not sure but that I ought to take you to 
 the station. All I know about you is that I find you loitering 
 outside this shop. What have you got in that basket ? ' 
 
 'Only my breakfast,' Easton said, opening the basket and 
 displaying its contents. 
 
 ' I'm inclined to believe what you say,' said the policeman, 
 after a pause. ' But to make quite sure I'll go home with you. 
 It's on my beat, and I don't want to run you in if you're what 
 you say you are, but I should advise you to buy a decent clock, 
 or you'll be getting yourself into trouble,' 
 
 When they arrived at the house Easton opened the door, 
 and after making some entries in his note-book the officer 
 went away, much to the relief of Easton, who went upstairs, 
 set the hands of the clock right and started it going again. 
 He then removed his overcoat and lay down on the bed in his 
 clothes, covering himself with the quilt. After a while he fell 
 asleep, and when he awoke the clock was still ticking. The 
 time was exactly seven o'clock. 
 
 53
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 THE PLACARD 
 
 FRANK OWEN was the son of a journeyman carpenter who had 
 died of consumption when the boy was only five years old. 
 His mother earned a scanty living as a needle-woman, and 
 when Frank was thirteen he went to work for a master decor- 
 ator who was a man of a type that has now almost disappeared, 
 being not merely an employer but a craftsman of a high order. 
 
 Though at one time he had had a good business in the town, 
 of late years the number of his customers had dwindled con- 
 siderably, for there had arisen a new generation which cared 
 nothing about craftsmanship or art, and everything for cheap- 
 ness and profit. From this man and by laborious study and 
 practice in his spare time, aided by a certain measure of 
 natural ability, Frank acquired a knowledge of decorative 
 painting and design, and graining and signwriting. 
 
 His mother died when he was twenty-four, and a year after- 
 wards he married the daughter of a fellow-workman. 
 
 In those days trade was fairly good, and although there 
 was not much demand for the more artistic kinds of work, still 
 the fact that he was capable of doing them, if required, made 
 it comparatively easy for him to obtain employment. They had 
 one child a boy and were very happy, and for some years 
 all went'well. But gradually this state of things altered. Broadly 
 speaking, the change came slowly and imperceptibly, although 
 there were occasional sudden fluctuations. 
 
 Even in summer Owen could not always find work, and in 
 winter it was almost impossible to get a job of any sort. At 
 last, about twelve months previously, he had determined to 
 leave his wife and child at home and go to try his fortune in 
 London, intending to send for them when he got employment. 
 
 It was a vain hope. He found London, if anything, worse 
 than his native town. Wherever he went he was confronted 
 with the legend : ' No hands wanted '. He walked the streets 
 
 54
 
 The Placard 
 
 day after day ; pawned or sold all his clothes save those he 
 stood in, and stayed in London for six months, sometimes 
 starving and only occasionally obtaining a few days or weeks' 
 work. 
 
 At the end of that time he was forced to give in. The priva- 
 tions he had endured, the strain on his mind and the foul at- 
 mosphere of the city combined to defeat him. Symptoms of the 
 disease that had killed his.father began to manifest themselves, 
 and yielding to the repeated entreaties of his wife he returned 
 to his native town, the shadow of his former self. 
 
 That was six months ago, and since then he had worked for 
 Rushton and Company, though occasionally when they had 
 no work in hand he was 'stood off' until something came in. 
 
 Ever since his return from London Owen had been gradu- 
 ally abandoning himself to hopelessness. Every day he felt 
 that the disease he suffered from was obtaining a stronger 
 grip on him. The doctor told him to ' take plenty of nourishing 
 food,' and prescribed costly medicines which Owen had not 
 the money to buy. 
 
 Then there was his wife. Naturally delicate, she needed 
 many things that he was unable to procure for her. And the 
 boy what hope was there for him ? Often as Owen moodily 
 thought of their circumstances and prospects he told himself 
 that it would be far better if they could all three die now, 
 together. 
 
 He was tired of suffering himself, tired of impotently watch- 
 ing the sufferings of his wife, and appalled at the thought of 
 what was in store for the child. 
 
 Of this nature were his reflections as he walked home- 
 wards on the evening of the day when old Linden was dis- 
 missed. 
 
 There was no reason to believe or hope that the existing 
 state of things would be altered for a long time to come. 
 
 Thousands of people like himself dragged out a wretched 
 existence on the very verge of starvation, and for the greater 
 number of people life was one long struggle against poverty. 
 Yet practically none of these people knew or even troubled 
 themselves to enquire why they were in that condition ; and 
 for anyone else to try to explain to them was a ridiculous waste 
 of time, for they did not want to know. 
 
 The remedy was so simple, the evil so great and so glaringly 
 evident, that the only possible explanation of its continued ex- 
 
 55
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 istence was that the majority of his fellow-workers were devoid 
 of the power of reasoning. If they had not been they would 
 have swept this silly system away long ago. 
 
 Why, even those who were successful or wealthy could not 
 be sure that they would not eventually die of want. 
 
 No matter how prosperous a man might be he could not 
 be certain that his children would never want for bread. 
 
 As Owen strode rapidly along, his mind filled with these 
 thoughts, he was almost unconscious of the fact that he was 
 wet through to the skin. He was without an overcoat: it had 
 been pawned in London, and he had not yet been able to re- 
 deem it. His boots were leaky and sodden with mud and rain. 
 
 He was nearly home now. At the corner of the street in 
 which he lived there was a newsagent's shop, and on a board 
 outside the door was displayed a placard : 
 
 TERRIBLE DOMESTIC TRAGEDY 
 DOUBLE MURDER AND SUICIDE 
 
 He went in to buy a copy of the paper. He was a frequent 
 customer here, and as he entered the shopkeeper greeted him 
 by name. 
 
 'Dreadful weather,' he remarked, as he handed Owen the 
 paper. ' It makes things pretty bad in your line, I suppose ? ' 
 
 4 Yes,' responded Owen, 'there's a lot of men idle, but for- 
 tunately I happen to be working inside.' 
 
 'You're one of the lucky ones, then,' said the other. 'You 
 know, there'll be a job here for some of 'em as soon as the 
 weather gets a little better. All the outside of this block is 
 going to be done up. That's a pretty big job, isn't it ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' returned Owen ; ' who's going to do it ? ' 
 
 ' Makehaste and Sloggit. You know, they've got a place over 
 at Windley.' 
 
 'Yes, I know the firm,' said Owen, grimly. He had worked 
 for them once or twice himself. 
 
 'The foreman was in here to-day,' the shopkeeper went on ; 
 'he said they're going to make a start Monday morning if 
 it's fine.' 
 
 'Well, I hope it will be,' said Owen, 'because things are 
 very quiet just now.' 
 
 Wishing the other good-night Owen again proceeded 
 homewards. 
 
 56
 
 The Placard 
 
 Halfway down the street he paused irresolutely : he was 
 thinking of the news he had just heard and of old Jack 
 Linden. 
 
 As soon as it became generally known that this work was 
 about to be started there was sure to be a rush after it, and 
 it would be a case of first come first served. If he saw Jack 
 to-night the old man might be in time to secure a job. 
 
 Owen hesitated : he was wet through : it was a long way to 
 Linden's place, nearly twenty minutes' walk. Still, he would 
 like to let him know, because unless he was one of the first 
 to apply Linden would not stand such a good chance as a 
 younger man. 
 
 Owen said to himself that if he walked very fast there was 
 not much risk of catching cold. Standing about in wet clothes 
 might be dangerous, but so long as one kept moving it was 
 all right. 
 
 He turned back and set off in the direction of Linden's 
 house ; although he was but a few yards from his own home 
 he decided not to go in because his wife would be sure to try 
 to persuade him not to go out again. 
 
 As he hurried along he presently noticed a small dark object 
 on the doorstep of an untenanted house. He stopped to 
 examine it more closely and perceived that it was a black 
 kitten. The tiny creature came towards him and began walking 
 about his feet, looking into his face and crying piteously. 
 
 He stooped down and stroked it, shuddering as his hands 
 came in contact with its emaciated body. Its fur was saturated 
 with rain, and every joint of its backbone was distinctly per- 
 ceptible to the touch. As he caressed it, the starving creature 
 mewed pathetically. 
 
 Owen decided to take it home to the boy, and as he picked 
 it up and put it inside his coat the little outcast began to purr. 
 
 This incident served to turn his thoughts into another 
 channel. If, as so many people pretended to believe, there was 
 an infinitely loving God, how was it that this helpless creature 
 that He had made was condemned to suffer ? It had never 
 done any harm, and was in no sense responsible for the fact 
 that it existed. Was God unaware of the miseries of His 
 creatures? If so, then he was not all-knowing. Was God aware 
 of their sufferings, but unable to help them ? Then He was not 
 all powerful. Had He the power but not the will to make His 
 creatures happy ? Then He was not good. No ; it was impos- 
 
 57
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 sible to believe in the existence of an individual, infinite 
 God. In fact, no one did so believe ; and least of all those 
 who pretended, for various reasons, to be the disciples and 
 followers of Christ. The anti-Christs were those who went 
 about singing hymns, making long prayers and crying Lord, 
 Lord, but never doing the things which He said. It was not 
 necessary to call in the evidence of science, or to refer to the 
 supposed inconsistencies, impossibilities, contradictions and 
 absurdities contained in the Bible, in order to prove that there 
 was no truth in the so-called Christian religion. All that was 
 necessary was to look at the conduct of the individuals who 
 were its votaries. 
 
 Jack Linden lived in a small cottage in Windley. He had 
 occupied this house ever since his marriage, over thirty years 
 ago. 
 
 His home and garden were his hobby ; he was always doing 
 something, painting, white-washing, papering and so forth. 
 The result was that although the house itself was not of much 
 account he had managed to get it into very good order, and 
 as a result it was very clean and comfortable. 
 
 Another result of his industry was that seeing the im- 
 proved appearance of the place Mr Sweater, the landlord, 
 had on two occasions raised the rent. When Linden first took 
 the house the rent was six shillings a week. Five years after 
 it was raised to seven shillings, and after the lapse of another 
 five years it had been increased to eight shillings. 
 
 During the thirty years of his tenancy he had paid altogether 
 nearly six hundred pounds in rent, more than double the 
 amount of the present value of the house. Jack did not com- 
 plain of this/ in fact he was very well satisfied. He often said 
 that Mr Sweater was a very good landlord, because on several 
 occasions when, being out of work, he had been a few weeks 
 behind with his rent, the agent acting for the benevolent 
 Sweater had allowed Linden to pay off the arrears by instal- 
 ments. As old Jack was in the habit of remarking, many a 
 landlord would have sold up their furniture and turned them 
 into the street. 
 
 Linden's household consisted of his wife, his two grand- 
 children and his daughter-in-law, the widow and children of 
 his youngest son, the reservist, who had been a plasterer, 
 working for Rushton and Company before the war. 
 
 They had just finished their tea when Owen knocked at 
 
 58
 
 The Placard 
 
 their front door. The young woman went to see who was 
 there. 
 
 1 Is Mr Linden in ? ' 
 
 1 Yes : who is it ? ' 
 
 1 My name's Owen.' 
 
 Old Jack, however, had already recognised Owen's voice, 
 and came to the door, wondering what he wanted. 
 
 'As I was going home I heard that Makehaste and Sloggit 
 are going to start a large job on Monday, so I thought I'd 
 run over and let you know.' 
 
 ' Are they ? ' said Linden, ' I'll go and see them in the 
 morning. But I'm afraid I won't stand much chance, because 
 a lot of their regular hands are waiting for a job ; but I'll go 
 and see 'em all the same." 
 
 1 Well, you know, it's a big job. All the outside of that block 
 at the corner of Kerk Street and Lord Street. They're almost 
 sure to want a few extra hands.' 
 
 4 Yes, there's something in that,' said Linden. 'Anyhow, I'm 
 much obliged to you for letting me know. But come in out of 
 the rain. You must be wet through.' 
 
 * No, I won't stay,' responded Owen ; ' I don't want to stand 
 about any longer than I can help in these wet clothes.' 
 
 ' But it won't take you a minit to drink a cup of tea,' Linden 
 insisted. ' I won't ask you to stop longer than that.' 
 
 Owen entered, and the old man closed the door and led the 
 way into the kitchen. 
 
 At one side of the fire, Linden's wife, a frail-looking old 
 lady with white hair, was seated in a large arm-chair, knitting. 
 Linden sat down in a similar chair on the other side. The 
 two grandchildren, a boy and girl about seven and eight years 
 of age respectively, were still seated at the table. 
 
 A treadle sewing machine stood at one end of the room, 
 and on the dresser was a pile of sewing ladies' blouses in 
 process of making. This was another instance of the goodness 
 of Mr Sweater, from whom Linden's daughter-in-law obtained 
 the work. It was not much, because she was only able to do 
 it in her spare time, but then, as she often remarked, every 
 little helped. 
 
 The floor was covered with linoleum, there were several 
 framed pictures on the walls, and on the high mantel-shelf 
 a number of brightly polished tins and copper utensils. 
 The room had that indescribable homelike, cosy air that is 
 
 59
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 found only in those houses in which the inhabitants have 
 dwelt for a very long time. 
 
 The younger woman was already pouring out a cup of tea. 
 
 Old Mrs Linden, who had never seen Owen before, although 
 she had heard of him, belonged to the Church of England 
 and was intensely religious. She looked curiously at the 
 Atheist as he entered the room. He had taken off his hat and 
 she was surprised to find that he was not repulsive to look at, 
 rather the contrary in fact. But then she remembered that 
 Satan often appears as an angel of light. Appearances are 
 deceitful. She wished that her husband had not asked him 
 into the house and hoped that no evil consequences would 
 follow. 
 
 Then as she looked at Owen, she was horrified to perceive 
 a small black head with a pair of glistening green eyes peep- 
 ing out of the breast of his coat, and immediately afterwards 
 the kitten, catching sight of the cups and saucers on the table, 
 began to mew frantically and scrambled suddenly out of its 
 shelter, inflicting a severe scratch on Owen's restraining hands 
 as it jumped to the floor. 
 
 It clambered up the tablecloth and began rushing all over 
 the table, darting madly from one plate to another, seeking 
 something to eat. 
 
 The children screamed with delight. Their grandmother 
 was filled with a feeling of superstitious alarm. Linden and 
 the young woman stood staring with astonishment at the 
 unexpected visitor. 
 
 Before the kitten had time to do any damage Owen caught 
 hold of it and despite its struggles lifted it off the table. 
 
 'I found it in the street as I was coming along,' he said; 
 'it seems to be starving.' 
 
 'Poor little thing. I'll give it something,' exclaimed the 
 young woman. 
 
 She put some milk and bread into a saucer and the kitten 
 ate ravenously, almost upsetting the saucer in its eagerness, 
 much to the amusement of the two children, who stood by 
 watching it with admiration. 
 
 Their mother now handed Owen a cup of tea. Linden 
 insisted on his sitting down and then began to talk about 
 Hunter. 
 
 ' You know I had to spend some time on them doors to 
 make "em look anything at all. But it wasn't the time I took, 
 
 60
 
 The Placard 
 
 or even the smoking what made 'im go on like that. He knows 
 very well the time it takes. The real reason is that he thinks 
 I was gettin' too much money. Work is done so rough nowa- 
 days that chaps like Sawkins is good enough for most of it. 
 Hunter shoved me off just because I was getting the top 
 money ; and you'll see I won't be the only one.' 
 
 'I'm afraid you're right,' returned Owen. 'Did you see 
 Rushton when you went for your money ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' replied Linden. ' I hurried up as fast as I could, but 
 Hunter was there first. He passed me on his bike before I got 
 half way, so I suppose he told his tale before I came. Anyway, 
 when I started to speak to Mr Rushton he wouldn't listen, 
 said he couldn't interfere between Mr Hunter and the men.' 
 
 'Ah! they're a bad lot, them two,' said the old woman 
 shaking her head sagely, 'but it'll all come "ome to 'em, you'll 
 see. They'll never prosper. The Lord will punish them.' 
 
 Owen did not feel very confident of this. Most of the people 
 he knew who had prospered were very similar in character 
 to the two worthies in question. However, he did not want to 
 argue with this poor old woman. 
 
 ' When Tom was called up to go to the war,' said the young 
 woman, bitterly, 'Mr Rushton shook hands with him and 
 promised to give him a job when he came back. But now that 
 poor Tom's gone and they know that me and the children's 
 got no one to look to but father, they do this.' 
 
 Although at the mention of her dead son's name old Mrs 
 Linden was evidently distressed, she was still mindful of the 
 Atheist's presence, and hastened to rebuke her daughter- 
 in-law. 
 
 ' You shouldn't say we've got no one to look to, Mary,' she 
 said; 'we're not as them who are without God and without 
 hope in the world. The Lord is our shepherd. He careth for 
 the widow and the fatherless.' 
 
 Owen was very doubtful about this also. He had seen so 
 many badly cared for children about the streets lately, and 
 what he remembered of his own sorrowful childhood was all 
 evidence to the contarry. 
 
 An awkward silence succeeded. Owen did not wish to 
 continue this conversation : he was afraid that he might say 
 something that would hurt the old woman. Besides, he was 
 anxious to get away ; he began to feel cold in his wet clothes. 
 
 As he put his empty cup on the table he said : 
 
 6l
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 'Well, I must be going. They'll be thinking I'm lost at 
 home.' 
 
 The kitten had finished all the bread and milk and was 
 gravely washing its face with one of its fore paws, to the 
 great delight of the two children, who were sitting on the 
 floor beside it. It was an artful looking kitten, all black, with 
 a very large head and a very small body. It reminded Owen 
 of a tadpole. 
 
 ' Do you like cats ? ' he asked, addressing the children. 
 
 ' Yes,' said the boy ; ' give it to us, will you, mister ? ' 
 
 'Oh, do leave it 'ere, mister,' exclaimed the little girl; Til 
 look after it.' 
 
 4 So will I,' said the boy. 
 
 ' But haven't you one of your own ? ' asked Owen. 
 
 'Yes, we've got a big one.' 
 
 4 Well, if you have one already and I give you this, then 
 you'd have two cats, and I'd have none. That wouldn't be 
 fair, would it ? ' 
 
 ' Well, you can 'ave a lend of our cat for a little while if 
 you give us this kitten,' said the boy, after a moment's thought. 
 
 ' Why would you rather have the kitten ? ' 
 
 ' Because it would play ; our cat don't want to play, it's 
 too old.' 
 
 ' Perhaps you're too rough with it,' returned Owen. 
 
 ' No, it aint that ; it's just because it's old.' 
 
 'You know cats is just the same as people,' explained the 
 little girl, wisely ; ' when they're grown up I suppose they've 
 got their troubles to think about.' 
 
 Owen wondered how long it would be before her troubles 
 commenced. As he gazed at these two little orphans he thought 
 of his own child, and of the rough and thorny way they would 
 all three have to travel if they were so unfortunate as to 
 outlive their childhood. 
 
 ' Can we 'ave it, mister ? ' repeated the boy. 
 
 Owen would have liked to grant the children's request, but 
 he wanted the kitten himself. Therefore he was relieved when 
 their grandmother exclaimed : 
 
 ' We don't want no more cats 'ere. We've got one already ; 
 that's quite enough.' 
 
 She was not yet quite satisfied in her mind that the creature 
 was not an incarnation of the devil ; but whether it was or 
 not she did not want it, or anything else of Owen's, in the 
 
 62
 
 The Placard 
 
 house. She wished he would go, and take his kitten or his 
 familiar or whatever it was with him. No good could come 
 of his being there. Was it not written in the Word : ' If any 
 man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be Anathema 
 Maran-atha.' ? She did not know exactly what Anathema Maran- 
 atha meant, but there could be no doubt that it was something 
 very unpleasant. It was a terrible thing that this blasphemer 
 who as she had heard did not believe there was a hell and 
 said that the Bible was not the word of God, should be here 
 in the house sitting on one of their chairs, drinking from one 
 of their cups, and talking to their children. 
 
 The children stood by wistfully when Owen put the kitten 
 under his coat and rose to go away. 
 
 As Linden prepared to accompany him to the front door, 
 Owen, happening to notice a timepiece standing on a small 
 table in the recess at one side of the fireplace, exclaimed : 
 
 1 That's a very nice clock.' 
 
 1 Yes, it's all right, ain't it ? ' said old Jack, with a touch of 
 pride. ' Poor Tom made that not the clock itself, but just 
 the case.' 
 
 It was the case that had attracted Owen's attention. It stood 
 about two feet high and was made of fretwork in the form of 
 an Indian mosque, with a pointed dome and pinnacles. It was 
 a very beautiful thing, and must have cost many hours of 
 patient labour. 
 
 4 Yes,' said the old woman, in a trembling, broken voice, and 
 looking at Owen with a pathetic expression. ' Months and 
 months he worked at it, and no one ever guessed who it were 
 for. And then, when my birthday came round, the very first 
 thing I saw when I woke up in the morning were the clock 
 standing on a chair by the bed with a card : 
 
 " To dear mother, from her loving son, Tom. 
 Wishing her many happy birthdays." 
 
 But he never had another birthday himself, because just 
 five months afterwards he were sent out to Africa, and he'd 
 only been there five weeks when he died, five years ago come 
 the fifteenth of next month.' 
 
 Owen, inwardly regretting that he had unintentionally 
 broached so painful a subject, tried to think of some suitable 
 reply, but had to content himself with murmuring some words 
 of admiration of the work. 
 
 63
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 As he wished her good-night, the old woman, looking at 
 him, could not help observing that he appeared very frail 
 and ill : his face was thin and pale, and his eyes were un- 
 naturally bright. 
 
 Possibly the Lord in His infinite loving kindness and mercy 
 was chastening this unhappy castaway in order that He might 
 bring him to Himself. After all, he was not altogether bad : it 
 was certainly very thoughtful of him to come all this way to 
 let her husband know about that job. She observed that he 
 had no overcoat, and the storm was still raging fiercely out- 
 side, furious gusts of wind frequently striking the house and 
 shaking it to its very foundations. 
 
 The natural kindliness of her character asserted itself; her 
 better feelings were aroused, triumphing momentarily over the 
 bigotry of her religious opinions. 
 
 1 Why, you ain't got no overcoat ! ' she exclaimed. ' You'll 
 be soaked goin' 'ome in this rain. 'Then turning to her husband 
 she continued : ' There's that old one of yours ; you might 
 lend him that ; it would be better than nothing.' 
 
 But Owen would not hear of this. He thought, as he became 
 very conscious of the clamminess of his saturated clothing, 
 that he could not get much wetter than he already was. Linden 
 accompanied him as far as the front door, and Owen once 
 more set out on his way homeward through the storm that 
 howled around like a wild beast hungry for its prey. 
 
 64
 
 CHAPTER V 
 OWEN AT HOME 
 
 OWEN'S wife and little son were waiting for him, in the living 
 room of their small top-floor flat. Although the low ceiling 
 showed the formation of the roof, the place was clean and 
 comfortable, the tea was laid, and an old suit and some under- 
 clothing of Owen's hung by the fire to replace his wet garments 
 on his return. 
 
 The woman was half sitting, half lying, on a couch by the 
 other side of the fire. She was very thin, and her pale face 
 bore the traces of much physical and mental suffering. She 
 was sewing, a task which her reclining position rendered 
 somewhat difficult. Although she was really only twenty-eight 
 years of age, she appeared older. 
 
 The boy, who was sitting on the hearthrug playing with 
 some toys, bore a strong resemblance to his mother. He also 
 appeared very fragile, and in his childish face was reproduced 
 much of the delicate prettiness which she had once possessed. 
 His feminine appearance was increased by the fact that his 
 yellow hair hung in long curls on his shoulders. The pride with 
 which his mother regarded this long hair was by no means 
 shared by Frankie, who was alwaj's entreating her to cut it off. 
 
 Presently the boy stood up and, walking gravely over to the 
 window, looked down into the street, scanning the pavement 
 for as far as he could see. 
 
 ' I wonder wherever he's got to,' he said, as he returned to 
 the fire. 
 
 1 I'm sui e I don't know,' returned his mother. ' Perhaps he's 
 had to work overtime.' 
 
 'You know, I've been thinking lately,' observed Frankie, 
 after a pause, ' that it's a great mistake for Dad to go out 
 working at all. I believe that's the very reason why we're so 
 poor.' 
 
 4 Nearly everyone who works is more or less poor, dear, but
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 if Dad didn't go out to work we'd be even poorer than we are 
 now. We should have nothing to eat.' 
 
 1 But Dad says that the people who do nothing get lots of 
 everything.' 
 
 ' Yes, and it's quite true that most of the people who never 
 do any work get lots of everything ; but where do they get it 
 from, and how do they get it ? ' 
 
 ' I'm sure I don't know,' replied Frankie, shaking his head 
 in a puzzled fashion. 
 
 1 Supposing Dad didn't go to work, or that he had no work 
 to go to, or that he was ill and not able to do any work, then 
 we'd have no money to buy anything. How should we get on 
 then?' 
 
 'I'm sure I don't know,' repeated Frankie, looking round the 
 room in a thoughtful manner. 'The chairs that's left aren't 
 good enough to sell, and we can't sell the beds, or your sofa, 
 but you might pawn my velvet suit.' 
 
 1 But even if all the things were good enough to sell, the 
 money we'd get for them wouldn't last very long, and what 
 should we do then ? ' 
 
 4 Well, I suppose we'd have to go without, that's all, the 
 same as we did when Dad was in London. But how do the 
 people who never do any work manage to get lots of money, 
 then ? ' added Frankie. 
 
 1 Oh, there's lots of different ways. For instance, you re- 
 member when Dad was in London, and we had no food in the 
 house, I had to sell the easy chair.' 
 
 Frankie nodded. 'Yes,' he said; 'I remember you wrote a 
 note and I took it to the shop, and afterwards old Didlum 
 came up here and bought it, and then his cart came and a 
 man took it away.' 
 
 4 And do you remember how much he gave us for it ? ' 
 
 4 Five shillings,' replied Frankie, promptly. He was well 
 acquainted with the details of the transaction, having often 
 heard his father and mother discuss it. 
 
 4 And when we saw it in his shop window a little while 
 afterwards, what price was marked on it ? ' 
 
 4 Fifteen shillings.' 
 
 4 Well, that's one way of getting money without working.' 
 
 Frankie played with his toys in silence for some minutes. 
 At last he said : 
 
 4 What other ways ? ' 
 
 66
 
 Owen at Home 
 
 4 Some people who have some money already get more in 
 this way : they find some people who have no money and say 
 to them : " Come and work for us." Then the people who have 
 no money go and work for the people that have the money. 
 The people who have the money pay the workers just enough 
 wages to keep them alive whilst they are at work. Then, 
 when the things that the working people have been making 
 are finished, the workers are sent away, and as they still 
 have no money, they are soon starving. In the meantime the 
 people who had the money take all the things that the workers 
 have made and sell them for a great deal more money than 
 they gave to the workers for making them. That's another 
 way the idlers have of getting lots of money without doing 
 any useful work.' 
 
 When I'm grown up into a man,' said Frankie, with a 
 flushed face, ' I'm going to be one of the workers, and when 
 we've made a lot of things I shall stand up and tell the others 
 what to do. If any of the idlers come to take our things away 
 they'll get something they won't like.' 
 
 In a state of suppressed excitement and scarcely conscious 
 of what h~ was doing, the boy began gathering up the toys 
 and throwing them violently one by one into the box. 
 
 ' I'll teach 'em to come taking our things away,' he exclaimed, 
 relapsing momentarily into his street style of speaking. 'First 
 of all we'll all stand quietly on one side. Then when the 
 idlers come in and start touching our things, we'll go up 
 to 'em and say : "'Ere, watcher doin' of ? Just you put it down, 
 will yer ? " and if they don't put it down at once it'll be the 
 worse for 'em, I can tell you.' 
 
 All the toys being collected, Frankie picked up the box and 
 placed it noisily in its accustomed corner of the room. 
 
 ' I should think the workers will be jolly glad when 
 they see me coming to tell them what to do, shouldn't you, 
 Mum?' 
 
 4 1 don't know, dear ; you see so many people have tried to 
 tell them, but they won't listen, they don't want to hear. 
 They think it's quite right that they should work very hard 
 all their lives, and quite right that most of the things they 
 help to make should be taken away from them by the people 
 who do nothing. The workers think that their children are 
 not as good as the children of the idlers, and they teach their 
 children that as soon as ever they are old enough they must 
 
 67
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 be satisfied to work very hard and to have only very bad food 
 and clothes and homes.' 
 
 ' Then I should think the workers ought to be jolly well 
 ashamed of themselves, Mum, don't you ? ' 
 
 ' Well, in one sense they ought, but you must remember 
 that that's what they've always been taught. But you have 
 been taught differently. Do you remember what you told me 
 the other day, when you came home from school, about the 
 scripture lesson ? ' 
 
 4 About St Thomas ? ' 
 
 4 Yes. What did the teacher say St Thomas was ? ' 
 
 1 She said he was a bad example ; and she said I was worse 
 than him because I asked too many foolish questions. She 
 always gets in a wax if I talk too much.' 
 
 4 Well, why did she call St Thomas a bad example ? ' 
 
 4 Because he wouldn't believe what he was told.' 
 
 1 Exactly. Well, when you told Dad about it what did he say ? ' 
 
 4 Dad told me that really St Thomas was the only sensible 
 man in the whole crowd of apostles. That is,' added Frankie, 
 correcting himself, ' if there ever was such a man at all.' 
 
 4 But did Dad say that there never was such a man ? ' 
 
 4 No ; he said he didn't believe there ever was, but he told 
 me to just listen to what the teacher said about such things, 
 and then to think about it in my own mind, and wait till I'm 
 grown up and then I can use my own judgment.' 
 
 ' Well now, that's what you were told, but all the other 
 children's mothers and fathers tell them to believe, without 
 thinking, whatever the teacher says. So it will be no wonder 
 if those children are not able to think for themselves when 
 they're grown up, will it ? ' 
 
 4 Don't you think it will be any use, then, for me to tell 
 them what to do to the idlers ? ' asked Frankie, dejectedly. 
 
 4 Hark ! ' said his mother, holding up her finger. 
 
 4 Dad ! ' cried Frankie, rushing to the door and flinging 
 it open. 
 
 He ran along the passage and opened the staircase door 
 before Owen reached the top of the last flight of stairs. 
 
 1 Why ever do you come up at such a rate ? ' exclaimed Owen's 
 wife reproachfully, as he came into the room exhausted from 
 the climb upstairs and sank panting into the nearest chair. 
 
 4 1 al ways for get,' he replied, when he had in some 
 degree recovered. 
 
 68
 
 Owen at Home 
 
 As he lay back in the chair, his face haggard and of a 
 ghastly whiteness, and with the water dripping from his 
 saturated cloth'ng, Owen presented a terrible appearance. 
 
 Frankie noticed with childish terror the extreme alarm with 
 which his mother looked at his father. 
 
 'You're alwaj's doing it,' he said with a whimper. 'How 
 many more times will Mother have to tell you about it before 
 you take any notice ? ' 
 
 4 It's all right, old chap,' said Owen, drawing the child nearer 
 to him and kissing the curly head. ' Listen, and see if you can 
 guess what I've got for you under my coat.' 
 
 In the silence the purring of the kitten was distinctly 
 audible. 
 
 ' A kitten ! ' cried the boy, taking it out of its hiding place. 
 'All black, and I believe it's half a Persian. Just the very 
 thing I wanted.' 
 
 While Frankie amused himself playing with the kitten, 
 which had been provided with another saucer of bread and 
 milk, Owen went into the bedroom to put on the dry clothes, 
 and as they were taking tea, he explained the reason of his 
 late home coming. 
 
 'I'm afraid he won't find it very easy to get another job,' 
 he remarked, referring to Linden ; 'even in the summer no- 
 body will be inclined to take him on. He's too old.' 
 
 'It's a dreadful prospect for the two children,' answered 
 his wife, 
 
 'Yes,' replied Owen, bitterly, 'It's the children who will 
 suffer most. As for Linden and his wife, although of course 
 one can't help feeling sorry for them, at the same time there's 
 no getting away from the fact that they deserve to suffer. All 
 their lives they've been working like brutes and living in 
 poverty. Although they have done more than their fair share 
 of the work, they have never enjoyed anything like a fair share 
 of the things they have helped to produce. And yet, all their 
 lives they have supported and defended the system that robbed 
 them, and have resisted and ridiculed every proposal to alter it. 
 It's wrong to feel sorry for such people ; they deserve to suffer.' 
 
 After tea, as he watched his wife clearing away the tea things 
 and re-arranging the drying clothing by the fire, Owen for the 
 first time noticed that she looked unusually ill. 
 
 'You don't look well to-night, Nora," he said, crossing over 
 to her and putting his arm around her. 
 
 6 9
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 4 1 don't feel well,' she replied, resting her head wearily 
 against his shoulder. ' I've been very bad all day and I had 
 to lie down nearly all the afternoon. I don't know how I should 
 have managed to get the tea ready if it had not been for 
 Frankie.' 
 
 4 I set the table for you, didn't I, Mum ? ' said Frankie, with 
 pride ; ' and I tidied up the room as well,' 
 
 4 Yes, darling, you helped me a lot,' she answered, and 
 Frankie went over to her and kissed her hand. 
 
 'Well, you'd better go to bed at once,' said Owen. 'I 
 can put Frankie to bed presently and do whatever else is 
 necessary.' 
 
 4 But there are so many things to attend to. I want to see 
 that your clothes are properly dry and to put something ready 
 for you to take in the morning before you go out, and then 
 there's your breakfast to pack up ' 
 
 4 1 can manage all that.' 
 
 4 1 didn't want to give way to it like this,' the woman said, 
 4 because I know you must be tired out yourself, but I really 
 do feel quite done up now.' 
 
 4 Oh, I'm all right,' replied Owen, who was really so fatigued 
 that he was scarcely able to stand. 4 I'll go and draw the blinds 
 down, and light the other lamp ; so say good-night to Frankie 
 and come at once.' 
 
 4 1 won't say good-night properly now, Mum,' remarked the 
 boy, 4 because Dad can carry me into your room before he 
 puts me into bed.' 
 
 A little later, as Owen was undressing Frankie, the latter 
 remarked, as he looked affectionately at the kitten, which was 
 sitting on the hearthrug watching the child's every movement 
 under the impression that it was part of some game: 
 
 4 What name do you think we ought to call it, Dad ? ' 
 
 4 You may give him any name you like,' replied Owen 
 absently. 
 
 4 1 know a dog that lives down the road,' said the boy ; 4 his 
 name is Major. How would that do ? Or we might call him 
 Sergeant.' 
 
 The kitten, observing that he was the subject of their con- 
 versation, purred loudly and winked as if to intimate that he 
 did not care what rank was conferred upon him so long as 
 the commissariat department was properly attended to. 
 
 4 1 don't know, though,' continued Frankie, thoughtfully. 
 
 70
 
 Owen at Home 
 
 ' They're all right names for dogs, but I think they're too big 
 for a kitten, don't you, Dad ? ' 
 
 'Yes, p'raps they are,' said Owen. 
 
 4 Most cats are called Tom or Kitty, but I don't want a 
 common name for him.' 
 
 ' Well, can't you call him after someone you know ? ' 
 
 ' I know ! I'll call him after a little girl that comes to our 
 school ; a fine name Maud ! That'll be a good one, won't it, 
 Dad ? ' 
 
 'Yes,' said Owen. 
 
 ' I say, Dad,' said Frankie, suddenly realising the awful fact 
 that he was being put to bed; 'you're forgetting all about my 
 story, and you promised that you'd have a game of trains 
 with me to-night.' 
 
 ' I hadn't forgotten, but I was hoping that you had, because 
 I'm very tired and it's very late, long past your usual bed-time, 
 you know. You can take the kitten to bed with you to-night 
 and I'll tell you two stories to-morrow and have the game as 
 well. I shall have plenty of time to-morrow because it's 
 Saturday.' 
 
 ' All right, then,' said the boy, contentedly. 
 
 After the child was in bed, Owen sat alone by the table in 
 the draughty sitting-room, thinking. 
 
 Although there was a bright fire the room was very cold, 
 being so close to the roof. The wind roared loudly round the 
 gables, shaking the house in a way that threatened every 
 moment to hurl it to the ground. 
 
 The lamp on the table had a green glass reservoir which 
 was half full of oil. Owen watched this with unconscious 
 fascination. Every time a gust of wind struck the house the 
 oil in the lamp was agitated, and rippled against the glass like 
 the waves of a miniature sea. 
 
 Staring abstractedly at the lamp, he thought of the future. 
 
 A few years ago the future had seemed a region of wonder- 
 ful and mysterious possibilities of good, but to-night the 
 thought brought no such illusions, for he knew that the story 
 of the future was to be much the same as the story of the past. 
 
 The story of the past would continue to repeat itself for a 
 few years longer. He would continue to work and they would 
 all three have to go without most of the necessaries of life. 
 
 When there was no work they would starve. 
 
 For himself he did not care much because he knew that at 
 
 71
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 the best or worst it would only be a very few years. Even 
 if he were able to have proper food and clothing and take 
 reasonable care of himself, he could not live much longer ; 
 but when that time came, what was to become of them! 
 
 There would be some hope for the boy if he were more ro- 
 bust and if his character were less gentle and more selfish. 
 
 In order to succeed in the world it was necessary to be 
 brutal, selfish and unfeeling : to push others aside and to take 
 advantage of their misfortunes. 
 
 That was the ideal character. 
 
 Owen knew that Frankie's character did not come up to 
 this lofty ideal. 
 
 Then there was Nora, how would she fare ? 
 
 Owen stood up and began walking about the room, op- 
 pressed with a kind of terror. Presently he returned to the fire 
 and began re-arranging his clothes that were drying. He found 
 that the boots, having been placed too near the fire, had dried 
 too quickly, and consequently the sole of one of them had 
 begun to split away from the upper. He remedied this as well 
 as he was able, and while turning the wetter parts of the 
 clothing to the fire, he noticed the newspaper in the coat 
 pocket. He drew it out with an exclamation of pleasure. Here 
 was something to distract his thoughts. But as soon as he 
 opened the paper his attention was ri vetted by the staring 
 headlines of one of the principal columns : 
 
 TERRIBLE DOMESTIC TRAGEDY. 
 
 WIFE AND TWO CHILDREN KILLED. 
 SUICIDE OF THE MURDERER. 
 
 It was one of the ordinary crimes of poverty. The man had 
 been without employment for many weeks and they had 
 pawned or sold their furniture and other possessions. But 
 even this resource must have failed at last, and one day the 
 neighbours noticed that the blinds remained down and that 
 there was a strange silence about the house. When the police 
 entered they found, in one of the upper rooms, the dead 
 bodies of the woman and the two children, with their throats 
 cut, laid out side by side upon the bed, which was saturated 
 with their blood. 
 
 72
 
 Owen at Home 
 
 There was no bedstead, and no furniture in the room except 
 the straw mattress and the ragged clothes and blankets upon 
 the floor. 
 
 The man's body was found in the kitchen, lying with out- 
 stretched arms face downwards on the floor, surrounded by 
 the blood from the terrible wound in his throat, which had 
 evidently been inflicted by the razor that was grasped in his 
 right hand. 
 
 No particle of food was found, but attached to a nail in the 
 kitchen wall was a piece of blood-smeared paper on which was 
 written in pencil: 
 
 1 This is not my crime, but Society's.' 
 
 The report went on to explain that the deed must have been 
 perpetrated during a fit of temporary insanity, brought on by 
 the sufferings the man had endured. 
 
 ' Insanity ! ' muttered Owen, as he read this glib theory, 
 ' Insanity ! It seems to me that he would have been insane if 
 he had not killed them.' 
 
 Surely it was wiser and better and kinder to send them all 
 to sleep, than to let them continue to suffer. 
 
 At the same time it seemed strange that the man should 
 have chosen to do it in that way, when there were so many 
 other cleaner, easier and less painful ways of accomplishing 
 his object. 
 
 One could take poison. Of course, there was a certain 
 amount of difficulty in procuring it, and one w r ould have to be 
 very careful not to select one that would cause a lot of pain. 
 
 Owen went over to his bookshelf and took down 'The 
 Cyclopaedia of Practical Medicine,' an old, rather out-of-date 
 book, which he thought might contain the required in- 
 formation. He was astonished to find what a number of poisons 
 there were within easy reach of whoever wished to make use 
 of them : poisons which could be relied upon to do their work 
 certainly, quickly and without pain. Why, it was not even 
 necessary to buy them ; one could gather them from the hedges 
 by the roadside and in the fields. 
 
 The more he thought of it the stranger it seemed that such 
 a clumsy method as a razor should be so popular. Strangula- 
 tion or even hanging would be better than that, though the 
 latter method could scarcely be adopted in their flat, because 
 there were no beams or rafters or anything from which it 
 would be possible to suspend a cord. Still, he could drive some 
 
 73
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 large nails or hooks into one of the walls. For that matter, 
 there were already some clothes hooks on some of the doors. 
 He began to think that this would be a more excellent way 
 than poison : he could easily pretend to Frankie that he was 
 going to show him some new kind of play. The boy would 
 offer no resistance, and in a few minutes it would all be over. 
 
 He threw down the book and pressed his hands over his 
 ears. He fancied he could hear the boy's hands and feet beat- 
 ing against the panels of the door as he struggled in his death 
 agony. 
 
 Then, as his arms fell nervelessly by his side again, he 
 thought he heard Frankie's voice calling : 
 
 'Dad! Dad!' 
 
 Owen hastily opened the door. 
 
 1 Are you calling, Frankie? ' 
 
 I Yes. I've been calling you quite a long time.' 
 4 What do you want ? ' 
 
 I 1 want you to come here. I want to tell you something.' 
 
 4 Well, what is it, dear ? I thought you were asleep a long 
 time ago,' said Owen, as he came into the room. 
 
 'That's just what I want to speak to you about. The kitten's 
 gone to sleep all right, but I can't go. I've tried all different 
 ways, counting and all, but it's no use, so I thought I'd ask 
 you if you'd mind coming and staying with me, and letting me 
 hold your hand for a little while, and then p'raps I could go.' 
 
 The boy twined his arms round Owen's neck and hugged 
 him very tightly. 
 
 4 Oh, Dad, I love you so much ! ' he said, 4 1 love you so much, 
 I could squeeze you to death.' 
 
 4 I'm afraid you will, if you squeeze me so tightly as that.' 
 
 The boy laughed softly as he relaxed his hold. 
 
 4 That would be a funny way of showing you how much I 
 loved you, wouldn't it, Dad ? Squeezing you to death ! ' 
 
 4 Yes, I suppose it would,' replied Owen, huskily, as he 
 tucked the bedclothes round the child's shoulders. ' But don't 
 talk any more, dear, just hold my hand and try to sleep.' 
 
 Lying there very quietly, holding his father's hand and 
 occasionally kissing it, the child presently fell asleep. 
 
 Then Owen got up very gently and went into the bedroom. 
 Nora was still awake. 
 
 4 Are you feeling any better, dear ? ' he said. 
 
 4 Yes ; I'm ever so much better since I've been in bed, but 
 
 74
 
 Owen at Home 
 
 I can't help worrying about your clothes. I'm afraid they'll 
 never be dry enough for you to put on the first thing in the 
 morning. Couldn't you stay at home till after breakfast, just 
 for once ? ' 
 
 4 No, I mustn't do that. If I did, Hunter would probably 
 tell me to stay away altogether. I believe he would be glad of 
 an excuse to get rid of another full price man just now.' 
 
 'But if it's raining like this in the morning, you'll be wet 
 through before you get there.' 
 
 1 It's no good worrying about that, dear ; besides, I can wear 
 this old coat that I have on now, over the other.' 
 
 4 And if you wrap your old shoes in some paper, and take 
 them with you, you can take off your wet boots as soon as you 
 get to the place.' 
 
 1 Yes, all right,' responded Owen. * Besides,' he added, re- 
 assuringly, 'even if I do get a little wet, we always have a 
 fire there, you know.' 
 
 'Well, I hope the weather will be a little better than this 
 in the morning,' said Nora. 'Isn't it a dreadful night! I keep 
 feeling afraid that the house is going to be blown down.' 
 
 Long after Nora was asleep, Owen lay listening to the 
 howling of the wind and the noise of the rain as it poured 
 heavily on the roof. But it was not the storm only that kept 
 him awake. Through the dark hours of the night his thoughts 
 were still haunted by the words on that piece of blood-stained 
 paper on a kitchen wall : ' This is not my crime but Society's.' 
 
 75
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 THE EXTERMINATING MACHINES 
 
 4 COME on, Saturday ! ' shouted Philpot, just after seven o'clock, 
 one Monday morning as they were getting ready for work. 
 
 It was still dark outside, but the scullery was dimly 
 illuminated by the flickering light of two candles which Crass 
 had lighted and stuck on the shelf over the fire-place in order 
 to serve out the different lots of paint and brushes to the men. 
 
 ' Yes, it do seem a 'ell of a long week, don't it ? ' remarked 
 Harlow as he hung his overcoat on a nail and proceeded to 
 put on his apron and blouse. ' I've 'ad bloody near enough of 
 it already.' 
 
 'Wish to Christ it was breakfast time,' growled the more 
 easily satisfied Easton. 
 
 Extraordinary though it may appear, none of them took any 
 pride in their work : they did not ' love ' it. They had no con- 
 ception of that lofty ideal of ' Work for work's sake,' which is 
 so popular with the people who do nothing. On the contrary, 
 when the workers arrived in the morning they wished it was 
 breakfast time. When they started work after breakfast they 
 wished it was dinner time. After dinner they wished it was 
 one o'clock on Saturday. 
 
 So they went on, day after day, year after year, wishing 
 their time was over and, without realising it, really wishing 
 that they were dead. 
 
 Crass poured several lots of colour into separate pots. 
 
 1 Harlow,' he said, 'you and Sawkins, when he comes, can 
 go up and do the top bedrooms out with this colour. You'll 
 find a couple of candles up there. It's only goin* to 'ave one 
 coat, so see that you make it cover all right, and just look 
 after Sawkins a bit so as 'e doesn't make a bloody mess of it. 
 You do the doors and windows and let 'im do the cupboards 
 and skirtings.' 
 
 ' That's a bit of all right, I must say,' Harlow said, addressing 
 
 7 6
 
 The Exterminating Machines 
 
 the company generally, ' We've got to teach 'im so as 'e can 
 do us out of a job presently by working under price.' 
 
 'Well, I can't 'elp it,' growled Crass, ' you know 'ow it is : 
 'LJnter sends 'im 'ere to do paintin', and I've got to put 'im on 
 it. There aint nothin' else for 'im to do.' 
 
 Further discussion on this subject was prevented by 
 Sawkins' arrival, nearly a quarter of an hour late. 
 
 'Oh, you 'ave come then,' sneered Crass, 'thought praps 
 you'd gorn for a 'oliday.' 
 
 Sawkins muttered something about oversleeping himself, 
 and having hastily put on his apron, he went upstairs with 
 Harlow. 
 
 'Now let's see,' Crass said, addressing Philpot, 'you and 
 Newman 'ad better go and make a start on the second floor : 
 this is the colour, and 'ere's a couple of candles. You'd better 
 not both go in one room or 'Unter will growl about it. You 
 take one of the front and let Newman take one of the back 
 rooms. Take a bit of stoppin' with you : they're goin' to 'ave 
 two coats, but you'd better putty up the 'oles as well as you 
 can, this time.' 
 
 'Only two coats!' said Philpot, 'Them rooms will never 
 look nothing with two coats a light colour like this.' 
 
 ' It's only goin' to get two, anyway,' returned Crass, testily, 
 "Unter said so, so you'll 'ave to do the best you can with 'em, 
 and get 'em smeared over middlin' sudden, too.' 
 
 Crass did not think it necessary to mention that according 
 to the copy of the specification of the work which he had in his 
 pocket the rooms in question were supposed to have four coats. 
 
 Crass now turned to Owen. 
 
 'There's that drorin' room,' he said. ' I don't know what's 
 goin' to be done with that yet. I don't think they've decided 
 about it. Whatever's to be done to it will be an extra, because 
 all that's said about it in the contract is to face it up with 
 putty and give it one coat of white. So you and Easton 'ad 
 better get on with it.' 
 
 Slyme was busy softening some putty by rubbing and 
 squeezing it between his hands. 
 
 ' I suppose I'd better finish the room I started on on 
 Saturday ? ' he asked. 
 
 'All right,' replied Crass, ' Have you got enough colour ?' 
 
 'Yes,' said Styme. 
 
 As he passed through the kitchen on the way to his work 
 
 77
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 Slyme accosted Bert, the boy, who was engaged in lighting a 
 fire to boil the water to make the tea for breakfast at eight 
 o'clock. 
 
 'There's a bloater I want's cooked,' he said. 
 
 'All right,' replied Bert, 'Put it over there on the dresser 
 along of Philpot's and mine.' 
 
 Slyme took the bloater from his food basket, but as he was 
 about to put it in the place indicated, he observed that his 
 was rather a larger one than either of the other two. This was 
 an important matter. After they were cooked it would not be 
 easy to say which was which ; he might possibly be given one 
 of the smaller ones instead of his own. He took out his pocket- 
 knife and cut off the tail of the large bloater. 
 
 ' 'Ere it is, then,' he said to Bert, ' I've cut off the tail of 
 mine so as you'll know which it is.' 
 
 It was now about twenty minutes past seven and having 
 started all the other men at work, Crass washed his hands 
 under the tap. Then he went into the kitchen and rigged up 
 a seat by taking two of the drawers out of the dresser and 
 placing them on the floor about six feet apart and laying a 
 plank across. This done he sat down in front of the fire which 
 was now burning brightly, and lit his pipe. The boy went into 
 the scullery and began washing up the cups and jars for the 
 men to drink out of. 
 
 Bert was a lean undersized boy about fifteen 3 7 ears of age 
 and about four feet nine inches in height. He had light brown 
 hair and hazel eyes, and his clothes were of many colours, 
 being thickly encrusted with paint, the result of the unskilful 
 manner in which he did his work, for he had only been at the 
 trade about a year. Some of the men had nicknamed him ' the 
 walking paint shop,' a titlewhich he accepted good humouredly. 
 
 This boy was an orphan. His father had been a railway 
 porter, who had worked very laboriously for twelve or four- 
 teen hours every day for many years, with the usual result : 
 namely, that he and his family lived in a condition of perpetual 
 poverty. Bert, who was their only child and not very robust, 
 had early shown a talent for drawing, so when his father died, 
 a little over a year ago, his mother readily assented when the 
 boy said that he wished to become a decorator. It was a nice 
 light trade, and she thought that a really good painter, such as 
 she was sure he would become, was at least al ways able to earn 
 a good living. Resolving to give the boy the best chance, she 
 
 78
 
 The Exterminating Machines 
 
 decided if possible to place him at Rushton's, that being one 
 of the leading firms in the town. At first Mr Rushton demanded 
 ten pounds as a premium, the boy to be bound for five years, 
 no wages the first year, two shillings a week the second, and 
 a rise of one shilling every year for the remainder of the term. 
 Afterwards as a special favour a matter of charity in fact 
 as she was a very poor woman he agreed to accept five 
 pounds. 
 
 This sum represented the thrifty savings of years, but the 
 poor woman parted with it willingly in order that the boy 
 should become a skilled workman. So Bert was apprenticed 
 bound for five years to Rushton and Company. 
 
 For the first few months his life had been spent in the paint- 
 shop at the yard, a place that was something between a cellar 
 and a stable. There, surrounded by the poisonous pigments 
 and materials of the trade, the youthful artizan worked, gener- 
 ally alone, cleaning the dirty paintpots brought in by the 
 workmen from finished 'jobs 'outside, and occasionally mixing 
 paint according to the instructions of Mr Hunter or one of 
 the sub-foremen. 
 
 Sometimes he was sent out to carry materials to the places 
 where the men were working heavy loads of paint or white 
 lead ; sometimes pails of whitewash that his slender arms were 
 too feeble to carry more than a few yards at a time. 
 
 Often his fragile, childish figure was seen staggering man- 
 fully along, bending beneath the weight of a pair of steps or 
 a heavy plank. 
 
 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, when they were more 
 than he could carry, they were put into a handcart which he 
 pushed or dragged after him to the distant jobs. 
 
 But in all this he had seen no hardship. With the uncon- 
 sciousness 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 suc- 
 ceeded fairly well. 
 
 He soon became a favourite with Owen, for whom he con- 
 ceived a great respect and affection, noticing that whenever 
 
 79
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 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 assist Owen, and the latter 
 whenever possible would ask that the boy might be allowed 
 to work with him. 
 
 Bert's regard for Owen was equalled in intensity by his dis- 
 like of Crass, who was in the habit of jeering at the boy's as- 
 pirations. ' There'll be plenty of time for you to think about 
 doin' fancy work arter you've learnt to do plain painting,' he 
 would say. 
 
 This morning, when he had finished washing up the cups 
 and mugs, Bert returned with them to the kitchen. 
 
 'Now let's see,' said Crass thoughtfully, 'you've put the 
 tea in the pail, I s'pose.' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 ' And now you want a job, don't yer ? ' 
 
 'Yes,' replied the boy. 
 
 ' Well, get a bucket of water and that old brush and a swab, 
 and go and wash the old whitewash and colouring orf the 
 pantry ceiling and walls.' 
 
 4 All right,' said Bert. When he got as far as the door lead- 
 ing into the scullery he looked round and said : 
 
 4 I've got to git them three bloaters cooked by breakfast 
 time-' 
 
 ' Never mind about that,' said Crass, ' 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 Grass's instructions. 
 
 It was very cold and damp and miserable in the pantry, 
 and the candle only made it seem more so. Bert shivered ; he 
 would like to have put on his jacket but that was out of the 
 question at a job like this. He lifted the bucket of water to one 
 of the shelves and climbing 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 over the stock of the brush, down his hand and uplifted 
 arm, wetting the turned-up sleeves of his shirt. 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 
 
 80
 
 The Exterminating Machines 
 
 water out of it and wiped the part of the ceiling that he had 
 washed, dropping the swab back into the pail. Then, shaking 
 his numbed fingers to restore the circulation, he peeped into 
 the kitchen where Crass 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 Crass malignantly through the 
 crack of the door. 'This is a fine job to give anybody a cold 
 mornin' like this.' 
 
 He shifted the pail of water a little further along the shelf 
 and went on with the work. 
 
 A little later, Crass, still sitting by the fire, heard footsteps 
 approaching along the passage. He started up guiltily and 
 thrusting the hand holding his pipe into his apron pocket, re- 
 treated hastily into the scullery. He thought it might be 
 Hunter, who was in the habit of turning up at all sorts of un- 
 likely 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 Crass came back. 
 
 1 You can do it yourself if you like,' replied Crass, affably, 
 looking at his watch ; ' it's about ten to eight.' 
 
 Easton had been working for Rushton and Company for a 
 fortnight, and had been wise enough to stand Crass 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 ? ' Crass asked, alluding 
 to the work Easton and Owen were doing in the drawing-room. 
 4 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 all right with 
 anybody, you know,' Easton added. 
 
 ' Well, so can I as a rule, but I get a bit sick listening to 
 that 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 Mm ; that's the best way.' 
 
 ' Of course, we know that things is a bit bad just now,' 
 Crass went on, 'but if the likes of 'im could 'ave their own 
 way, they'd make 'em a bloody sight worse.' 
 
 ' That's just what I say,' replied Easton. 
 F 8l
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 ' I've got a pill ready for 'im, though, next time 'e starts 
 yappin',' Crass 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' 
 cut 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 decent lot of chaps comes there.' 
 
 | Yes, I think I will.' 
 
 ' What 'ouse do you usually use ? ' asked Crass after a 
 pause. 
 
 Easton laughed. ' Well, to tell you the truth I've not used 
 anywheres lately. Been 'avin too many 'ollerdays.' 
 
 That do make a bit of difference, don't it?' said Crass. ' 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 mornins. Ole 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,' Crass went on, confidentially, 'between me 
 an' you an* the gatepost, as the sayin' is, I don't think Mr 
 bloody 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 
 Crass continued : 
 
 82
 
 The Exterminating Machines 
 
 ' 'E's 'card 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 it don't.' 
 
 4 '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 giv 
 'im a start. It seems Owen took a lot of samples of 'is work 
 an' showed 'em to the Bloke.' 
 
 I Is them the things wot's 'angin' up in the shop winder ? ' 
 'Yes,' said Crass, contemptuously; 'but 'e's no good on 
 
 plain work. Of course e' does a bit of grainin'an' writin' after 
 a fashion when there's any to do, and that ain't often ; but on 
 plain work, why Sawkins is as good as 'im for most of it 
 any day ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, I suppose 'e is,' replied Easton, feeling rather ashamed 
 of himself for the part he was taking in this conversation. 
 
 Although he had for the moment forgotten the existence of 
 Bert, Crass had instinctively lowered his voice ; but the boy 
 who had left off working to warm his hands by putting 
 them into his trousers pockets managed, by listening atten- 
 tively, to hear every word. 
 
 ' You know there's plenty of people wouldn't give the firm 
 no more work if they knowed about it,' Crass continued ; 'just 
 fancy sendin' a swine like that to work in a lady's or gentle- 
 man's 'ouse a bloody Atheist ! ' 
 
 'Yes, it is a bit orf, when you look at it like that.' 
 
 I 1 know my missis for one wouldn't 'ave a feller like that 
 in our place. We 'ad a lodger once and she found out that 'e 
 was a freethinker or something and she cleared 'im out bloody 
 quick, I can tell yer ! ' 
 
 'Oh, by the way,' said Easton, glad of an opportunity to 
 change the subject, ' you don't happen to know of anyone as 
 wants a room, do you ? We've got one more than we want, so 
 the wife thought that we might as well let it.' 
 
 Crass thought for a moment. ' Can't say as I do,' he 
 answered, doubtfully, ' Slyme was talking last week about 
 leaving the place 'e's lodging at, but I don't know whether 
 'e's got another place to go to. You might ask him. I don't 
 know of anyone else.' 
 
 Til speak to 'im,' replied Easton. 'What's the time? It 
 must be nearly on it.' 
 
 ' So it is : just on eight,' exclaimed Crass, and drawing his 
 
 83
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 whistle he blew a shrill blast upon it to apprise the others of 
 the fact. 
 
 ' Has anyone seen old Jack Linden since 'e got the push ? ' 
 enquired Harlow, during breakfast. 
 
 'I seen 'im Saturday,' said Sly me. 
 
 I Is 'e doin' anything ? ' 
 
 4 1 don't know : I didn't 'ave time to speak to 'im.' 
 
 'No, 'e aint got nothing,' remarked Philpot. 'I seen 'im 
 Saturday night, an' 'e told me 'e's been walkin' about ever 
 since.' 
 
 Philpot did not add that he had ' lent ' Linden a shilling, 
 which he never expected to see again. 
 
 "E won't be able to get a job again in a 'urry,' remarked 
 Easton, 4 'e's too old.' 
 
 ' You know, after all, you can't blame Misery for sackin' 
 'im,' said Crass after a pause. ' 'E was too slow for a funeral.' 
 
 I 1 wonder how much you'll be able to do when you're as 
 old as he is ? ' said Owen. 
 
 'Praps I won't want to do nothing,' replied Crass, with a 
 feeble laugh. ' I'm goin' to live on me means.' 
 
 ' I should say the best thing old Jack could do would be to 
 go in the Union,' said Harlow. 
 
 ' Yes : I reckon that's what'll be the end of it,' said Easton, 
 in a matter-of-fact tone. 
 
 ' It's a grand finish, isn't it ? ' observed Owen. 'After work- 
 ing hard all one's life to be treated like a criminal at the end.' 
 
 ' I don't know what you call bein' treated like criminals,' 
 exclaimed Crass ; ' I reckon they 'as a bloody fine time of it, 
 an' we've got to find the money.' 
 
 ' Oh, for Gord's sake don't start no more arguments,' cried 
 Harlow, addressing Owen. 'We 'ad enough of that last week. 
 You can't expect a boss to employ a man when 'e's too old 
 to work.' 
 
 'Of course not,' said Crass. 
 
 Old Joe Philpot said nothing. 
 
 'I don't see no sense in always grumblin',' Crass proceeded; 
 ' these things can't be altered. You can't expect there can be 
 plenty of work for everyone with all this 'ere labour savin' 
 machinery what's been invented. 
 
 'Of course,' said Harlow, 'the people what used to be 
 employed on the work what's now done by machinery, has to 
 find something else to do. Some of 'em goes to our trade, for 
 
 84
 
 The Exterminating Machines 
 
 instance. The result is there's too many at it, and there aint 
 enough work to keep 'em all goin'.' 
 
 'Yes,' cried Crass, eagerly, 'that's just what I say. 
 Machinery is the real cause of all the poverty. That's what I 
 said the other day.' 
 
 'Machinery is undoubtedly the cause of unemployment,' 
 replied Owen, ' but it's not the cause of poverty : that's another 
 matter altogether.' 
 
 The others laughed derisively. 
 
 'Well, it seems to me to amount to the same thing,' said 
 Harlow, and nearly everyone agreed. 
 
 'It doesn't seem to me to amount to the same thing,' Owen 
 replied. ' In my opinion we are all in a state of poverty even 
 when we have employment. The condition we are reduced to 
 when we're out of work is more properly described as 
 destitution.' 
 
 ' Poverty,' continued Owen, after a short silence, 'consists 
 in a shortage of the necessaries of life. When those things are 
 so scarce or so dear that people are unable to obtain sufficient 
 of them to satisfy all their needs, they are in a condition of 
 poverty. If you think that the machinery which makes it 
 possible to produce all the necessaries of life in abundance is 
 the cause of the shortage, it seems to me that there must be 
 something the matter with your minds.' 
 
 'Oh, of course we're all bloody fools except you,' snarled 
 Crass. ' When they was servin' out the sense they give you 
 such a 'ell of a lot there wasn't none left for nobody else.' 
 
 'If there wasn't something wrong with your minds,' con- 
 tinued Owen, ' you would be able to see that we might have 
 " Plenty of Work " and yet be in a state of destitution. The 
 miserable wretches who toil sixteen or eighteen hours a day 
 father, mother, and even the little children making match- 
 boxes, or shirts or blouses, have "Plenty of Work," but I for 
 one don't envy them. Perhaps you think that if there was no 
 machinery and we all had to work thirteen or fourteen hours 
 a day in order to obtain a bare living we should not be in a 
 condition of poverty ? Talk about there being something the 
 matter with your minds if there were not you wouldn't talk 
 one day about Tariff Reform as a remedy for unemployment 
 and then the next day admit that machinery is the cause of 
 it ! Tariff Reform won't do away with machinery, will it ? ' 
 
 ' Tariff Reform is the remedy for bad trade,' returned Crass. 
 
 85
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 ' In that case Tariff Reform is the remedy for a disease that 
 does not exist. If you would only take the trouble to investi- 
 gate for yourself you would find out that trade was never so 
 good as it is at present : the output the quantity of com- 
 modities of every kind produced in and exported from this 
 country is greater than it has ever been before. The fortunes 
 amassed in business are larger than ever. But at the same 
 time, owing, as you have just admitted, to the continued 
 introduction and extended use of wages-saving machinery, 
 the number of human beings employed is steadily de- 
 creasing. I have here,' continued Owen, taking out his pocket 
 book, ' some figures which I copied from the " Daily Mail Year 
 Book" for 1907, page 33: 
 
 " It is a very noticeable fact that although the number 
 of factories and their value have vastly increased in the 
 United Kingdom, there is an absolute decrease in the 
 number of men and women employed in those factories 
 between 1895 and 1901. This is doubtless due to the dis- 
 placement of hand labour by machinery." 
 
 ' Will Tariff Reform deal with that ? Are the good, kind 
 capitalists going to abandon the use of wages-saving machinery 
 if we tax all foreign made goods ? Does what you call " Free 
 Trade" help us here, or do you think that abolishing the 
 House of Lords, or disestablishing the Church, will enable 
 the workers who are displaced to obtain employment ? Since 
 it is true as you admit that machinery is the principal cause 
 of unemployment, what are you going to do about it ? What's 
 your remedy ? ' 
 
 No one answered, because none of them knew of any re- 
 medy ; and Crass began to feel sorry that he had re-introduced 
 the subject at all. 
 
 ' In the near future,' continued Owen, 'it is probable that 
 horses will be almost entirely superseded by motor cars and 
 electric trams. As the services of horses will no longer be re- 
 quired, all but a few will die out ; they will no longer be bred 
 to the same extent as formerly. We can't blame the horses 
 for allowing themselves to be exterminated. They have not 
 sufficient intelligence to understand what's being done. There- 
 fore they will submit tamely to the extinction of the greater 
 number of their kind. 
 
 ' As we have seen, a great deal of the work which was for- 
 
 86
 
 The Exterminating Machines 
 
 merly done by human beings is now being done by machinery. 
 This machinery belongs to a few people ; it is being worked 
 for the benefit of those few, just the same as were the human 
 beings it displaced. 
 
 4 These few have no longer any need of the services of so 
 many human workers, so they propose to exterminate them ! 
 The unnecessary human beings are to be allowed to starve 
 to death ! And they are also to be taught that it is wrong to 
 marry and breed children because the Sacred Few do not 
 require so many people to work for them as before ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, and you'll never be able to prevent it, mate ! ' shout- 
 ed Crass. 
 
 | Why can't we ? ' 
 
 ' Because it can't be done ! ' cried Crass, fiercely. ' It's 
 impossible ! ' 
 
 You're always sayin' that everything's all wrong,' com- 
 plained Harlow, ' but why the 'ell don't you tell us 'ow they're 
 goin' to be put right ? ' 
 
 ' It doesn't seem to me as if any of you really wish to know, 
 I believe that even if it were proved that it could be done, 
 most of you would be sorry and would do all you could to 
 prevent it.' 
 
 1 'E don't know 'isself,' sneered Crass. ' Accordin' to 'im, 
 Tariff Reform ain't no bloody good, Free Trade ain't no 
 bloody good, and everybody else is wrong ! But when you 
 arst 'im what ought to be done, 'e's flummuxed ! ' 
 
 Crass did not feel very satisfied with the result of this 
 machinery argument, but he consoled himself with the reflec- 
 tion that he would be able to flatten out his opponent on 
 another subject. The cutting from the ' Obscurer ' which he 
 had in his pocket would take a bit of answering ! When you 
 have a thing in print in black and white why there it is, 
 and you can't get away from it ! If it wasn't all right a paper 
 like that would never have printed it. However, as it was now 
 nearly half past eight he resolved to defer this triumph till 
 another occasion. It was too good a thing to be disposed of 
 in a hurry.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 THE CAP ON THE STAIRS 
 
 AFTER breakfast, when they were working together in the 
 drawing-room, Easton, desiring to do Owen a good turn, 
 thought he would put him on his guard, and repeated to him 
 in a whisper the substance of the conversation he had held 
 with Crass concerning him. 
 
 ' Of course, you needn't mention that I told you, Frank,' 
 he said, ' but I thought I ought to let you know. You can 
 take it from me, Crass ain't no friend of yours.' 
 
 ' I've known that for a long time, mate,' replied Owen. 
 'Thanks for telling me, all the same.' 
 
 ' The bloody rotter's no friend of mine either, or anyone 
 else's, for that matter,' Easton continued, ' but of course it 
 doesn't do to fall out with 'im, because you never know what 
 he'd go and say to old 'Unter.' 
 
 'Of course we all know what's the matter with 'im as far 
 as you 1 re concerned,' Easton went on; 'he don't like 'avin' 
 anyone on the firm wot knows more about the work than 'e 
 does 'imself thinks 'e might get worked out of 'is job.' 
 
 Owen laughed bitterly. 
 
 ' He needn't be afraid of me on that account. I wouldn't 
 have his job if it were offered to me.' 
 
 ' But * don't think so,' replied Easton, ' and that's why 'e's 
 got 'is knife into you.' 
 
 ' I believe that what he said about Hunter is true enough,' 
 said Owen. ' Every time he comes here he tries to goad me 
 into doing or saying something that would give him an excuse 
 to tell me to clear out. I might have done it before now if I 
 had not guessed what he was after, and been on my guard.' 
 
 Meantime, Crass, in the kitchen, had resumed his seat by 
 the fire with the purpose of finishing his pipe of tobacco. 
 Presently he took out his pocket book and began to write in 
 it with a piece of blacklead pencil, and, having torn out the 
 
 88
 
 The Cap on the Stairs 
 
 leaf, went into the pantry, where Bert was still struggling 
 with the old whitewash. 
 
 ' Ain't yer nearly finished ? I don't want yer to stop in 'ere 
 all day, yer know.' 
 
 ' I ain't got much more to do now,' said the boy ; 'just this 
 bit under the bottom shelf and then I'm done.' 
 
 'Yes, and a bloody fine mess you've made, what I can 
 see of it ! ' growled Crass. ' Look at all this water on the 
 floor ! ' 
 
 Bert looked guiltily at the floor and turned very red. 
 
 ' I'll clean it all up,' he stammered ; ' as soon as I've got this 
 bit of wall done, I'll wipe all the mess up with a swab.' 
 
 Crass now took a pot of paint and some brushes and having 
 put some more fuel on the fire, began in a leisurely way to 
 paint some of the woodwork in the kitchen. 
 
 Presently Bert came in. 
 
 'I've finished out there,' he said. 
 
 'About time, too. You'll 'ave to look a bit livelier than you 
 do, you know, or me and you will fall out.' 
 
 Bert did not answer. 
 
 ' Now I've got another job for yer. You're fond of drorin, 
 ain't yer? ' continued Crass in a jeering tone. 
 
 'Yes, a little,' replied the boy, shamefacedly. 
 
 'Well,' said Crass, giving him the leaf he had torn out ot 
 the pocketbook, 'you can go to the yard and git them things 
 and put 'em on a truck and dror it up 'ere, and git back as 
 soon as you can. Just look at the paper and see if you under- 
 stand it before you go. I don't want you to make no mistakes.' 
 
 Bert took the paper and with some difficulty read as 
 follows : 
 
 i pare steppes 8 foot 
 \ galoon Piaster off perish 
 i pale off witewash 
 1 2 Ibs wite led 
 \ galoon Linsede Hoil 
 Do. Do. turps. 
 
 ' I can make it out all right.' 
 
 1 You'd better bring the big truck,' said Crass, ' because I 
 want you to take the Venetian blinds with you on it when you 
 take it back to-night. They've got to be painted at the shop.' 
 
 ' All right.' 
 
 8 9
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 When the boy had departed Crass took a stroll through the 
 house to see how the others were getting on. Then he returned 
 to the kitchen and proceeded with his work. 
 
 Crass was about thirty-eight years of age, rather above 
 middle height and rather stout. He had a considerable quantity 
 of curly black hair and wore a short beard of the same colour. 
 His head was rather large, but low, and flat on the top. When 
 among his cronies he was in the habit of referring to his 
 obesity as the result of good nature and a contented mind. 
 Behind his back other people attributed it to beer, some even 
 going so far as to nickname him the ' tank.' 
 
 There was no work of a noisy kind being done this morning, 
 both the carpenters and the bricklayers having gone away, 
 temporarily, to another 'job.' At the same time there was not 
 absolute silence ; occasionally Crass could hear the voices of 
 the other workmen as they spoke to each other, sometimes 
 shouting from one room to another. Now and then Harlow's 
 voice rang through the house as he sang snatches of music 
 hall songs or a verse of a Moody and Sankey hymn, and 
 occasionally some of the others joined in the chorus or inter- 
 rupted the singer with squeals and catcalls. Once or twice 
 Crass was on the point of telling them to make less row : there 
 would be a fine to do if Nimrod came and heard them. Just as 
 he had made up his mind to tell them to stop the noise, it 
 ceased of itself and he heard loud whispers. 
 
 4 Look out ! Someone's comin'.' 
 
 The house became very quiet. Crass put out his pipe and 
 opened the window and the back door to get rid of the smell 
 of the tobacco smoke. Then he shifted the pair of steps noisily, 
 and proceeded to work more quickly than before. Most likely 
 it was old Misery. 
 
 He worked on for some time in silence, but no one came 
 to the kitchen ; whoever it was must have gone upstairs. 
 Crass listened attentively. Who could it be ? He would have 
 liked to go to see but at the same time, if it were Nimrod, 
 Crass wished to be discovered at work. He therefore 
 waited a little longer and presently he heard the sound of 
 voices upstairs but was unable to recognise them. He was 
 just about to go out into the passage to listen, when the in- 
 truder began to descend the stairs. Crass at once resumed his 
 work. The footsteps came along the passage leading to the 
 kitchen, slow, heavy, ponderous footsteps, but yet the sound 
 
 90
 
 The Cap on the Stairs 
 
 was not such as would be made by a man heavily shod. It 
 was not Misery, evidently. 
 
 As the footsteps entered the kitchen, Crass looked round 
 and beheld Mr Sweater, the owner of ' The Cave/ a very tall, 
 obese figure, with a large, coarse featured, clean-shaven face, 
 and a great double chin, the complexion being of the colour 
 and appearance of the fat of uncooked bacon. His nose was 
 large and fleshy, and his weak-looking, pale blue eyes had 
 slightly inflamed lids and were almost destitute of eyelashes. 
 His large fat feet were cased in soft calf-skin boots, with drab- 
 coloured spats. His overcoat, heavily trimmed with sealskin, 
 reached just below the knees ; and although the trousers were 
 very wide they were filled by the fat legs within, the shape 
 of the calves being distinctly perceptible. He was so large 
 that his figure completely filled up the doorway, and as he 
 came in he stooped slightly to avoid damaging the glistening 
 silk hat on his head. One gloved hand was thrust into the 
 pocket of the overcoat and in the other he carried a small 
 gladstone bag. 
 
 When Crass beheld this being, he touched his cap 
 respectfully. 
 
 4 Good morning, sir.' 
 
 ' Good morning. They told me upstairs that I should find 
 the foreman here. Are you the foreman ? ' 
 
 I Yes, sir.' 
 
 I 1 see you're getting on with the work here.' 
 
 4 Ho yes, sir, we're beginning to make a bit hov a show, 
 now, sir,' replied Crass, speaking as if he had a hot potato in 
 his mouth. 
 
 4 Mr Rushton isn't here yet, I suppose ? ' 
 
 4 No sir ; 'e don't horfun come hon the job hin the mornin' 
 sir; 'e generally comes hafternoons, sir, but Mr 'Unter's 
 halmost sure to be 'ere presently, sir.' 
 
 4 It's Mr Rushton I want to see. I arranged to meet him here 
 at ten o'clock, but ' looking at his watch l I'm rather before 
 my time.' 
 
 4 He'll be here presently, I suppose,' added Mr Sweater, 
 4 I'll just take a look round till he comes.' 
 
 4 Yes, sir,' responded Crass, walking behind him obsequiously 
 as he went out of the room. 
 
 Hoping that the gentleman might give him a shilling, Crass 
 followed him into the front hall and began explaining what 
 
 91
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 progress had so far been made with the work, but as Mr 
 Sweater answered only by monosyllables and grunts, Crass 
 presently concluded that his conversation was not appreciated 
 and returned to the kitchen. 
 
 Meantime, upstairs, Philpot had gone into Newman's room 
 and was discussing with him the possibility of extracting from 
 Mr Sweater the price of a little light refreshment. 
 
 'I think,' he remarked, 'that we oughter see-ise this 'ere 
 tuneropperty to touch 'im for an allowance.' 
 
 'We won't git nothin' out of 'itn, mate,' returned Newman. 
 ' 'E's a red 'ot teetotaller.' 
 
 ' That don't matter. 'Ow's 'e to know that we buys beer 
 with it ? We might 'ave tea, or ginger ale, or lime juice and 
 glycerine for all 'e knows ! ' 
 
 Mr Sweater now began ponderously re-ascending the stairs 
 and presently came into the room where Philpot was at work. 
 The latter greeted him with respectful cordiality. 
 
 ' Good morning, sir.' 
 
 ' Good morning. You've begun painting up here then.' 
 
 ' Yes, sir, we've made a start on it,' replied Philpot, affably. 
 
 1 Is this door wet ? '-asked Sweater, glancing apprehensively 
 at the sleeve of his coat. 
 
 ' Yes, sir,' answered Philpot, and added, as he looked 
 meaningly at the great man, 'the paint is wet, sir, but the 
 painters is dry.' 
 
 1 Confound it ! ' exclaimed Sweater, ignoring, or not hearing 
 the latter part of Philpot's reply. ' I've got some of the beastly 
 stuff on my coat sleeve.' 
 
 ' Oh, that's nothing, sir,' cried Philpot, secretly delighted ; 
 ' I'll get that orf for yer in no time. You wait just 'arf a mo ! ' 
 
 He had a piece of clean rag in his tool bag, and moistening 
 it slightly with turpentine he carefully removed the paint 
 from Sweater's sleeve. 
 
 ' It's all orf now, sir,' he remarked as he rubbed the place 
 with a dry part of the rag ; ' the smell of the turps will go 
 away in about a hour's time.' 
 
 'Thanks,' said Sweater. 
 
 Philpot looked at him wistfully, but Sweater evidently did 
 not understand, and began looking about the room. 
 
 ' I see they've put a new piece of skirting here,' he observed. 
 
 ' Yes, sir,' said Newman, who came into the room just then 
 to get the turps, ' the old piece was all to bits with dry rot.' 
 
 92
 
 The Cap on the Stairs 
 
 4 1 feel as if I 'ad a touch of the dry rot meself, don't you ? ' 
 said Philpot to Newman, who smiled feebly and cast a side- 
 long glance at Sweater, who did not appear to notice the 
 significance of the remark, but walked out of the room and 
 began climbing up to the next floor, where Harlow and 
 Sawkins were working. 
 
 4 Well, there's a bleeder for yer ! ' said Philpot, with indig- 
 nation. ' After all the trouble I took to clean 'is coat ! Not a 
 bloody stiver ! Well, it takes the cake, don't it ? ' 
 
 ' I told you 'ow it would be, didn't I ? ' replied Newman. 
 
 ' P'raps I didn't make it plain enough,' said Philpot 
 thoughtfully. ' We must try to get some of our own back 
 somehow, you know.' 
 
 Going out on the landing he called softly upstairs : 
 
 ' I say, Harlow.' 
 
 ' Hallo,' said that individual, looking over the banisters. 
 
 4 'Ow are yer getting on up there ? ' 
 
 'Oh, all right, you know.' 
 
 4 Pretty dry job, ain't it ? ' Philpot continued, raising his 
 voice a little and winking at Harlow. 
 
 4 Yes, it is, rather,' replied Harlow with a grin. 
 
 4 1 think this would be a very good time to take up the col- 
 lection, don't you ? ' 
 
 4 Yes ; it wouldn't be a bad idear.' 
 
 4 Well, I'll put me cap on the stairs,' said Philpot, suiting the 
 action to the word ; 4 you never knows yer luck. Things is 
 gettin a bit serious on this floor, you know ; my mate's fainted 
 away once already ! ' 
 
 Philpot now went back to his room to await developments ; 
 but as Sweater made no sign, he returned to the landing and 
 again hailed Harlow. 
 
 4 1 always reckon a man can work all the better after 'e's 
 'ad a drink ; you can seem to get over more of it, like.' 
 
 'Oh, that's true enough,' responded Harlow; 4 I've often 
 noticed it meself.' 
 
 Sweater came out of the front bedroom and passed into 
 one of the back rooms without any notice of either of 
 the men. 
 
 4 I'm afraid it's a frost, mate,' Harlow whispered, and 
 Philpot, shaking his head sadly, returned to work ; but 
 in a little while he came out again and once more accosted 
 Harlow. 
 
 93
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 ' 1 knowed a case once,' he said in a melancholy tone, 'where 
 a chap died of thirst on a job just like this ; and at the in- 
 quest the doctor said as 'arf a pint would 'a saved 'im ! ' 
 
 ' It must 'ave been a norrible death,' remarked Harlow. 
 
 ' 'Orrible ain't the word for it, mate,' replied Philpot mourn- 
 fully ; ' it was something chronic ! ' 
 
 After this final heartrending appeal to Sweater's humanity 
 they returned to work, satisfied that, whatever the result of 
 their efforts, they had done their best, and the issue now 
 rested with him. 
 
 But it was all in vain. Sweater either did not or would not 
 understand, and when he came downstairs he took no notice 
 whatever of the cap which Philpot had placed so conspicu- 
 ously in the centre of the landing floor, and reached the hall 
 at the same moment as Rushton entered by the front door. 
 They greeted each other in a friendly way, and after a few 
 remarks concerning the work, went into the drawing-room 
 where Owen and Easton were busy. 
 
 'What about this room ? ' remarked Rushton. ' Have you 
 made up your mind what you're going to have done to it ? ' 
 
 'Yes,' replied Sweater, 'but I'll tell you about that after- 
 wards. What I'm anxious about is the drains. Have you 
 brought the plans ? ' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' What's it going to cost ? ' 
 
 'Just wait a minute,' said Rushton, with a slight gesture 
 calling Sweater's attention to the presence of the two work- 
 men. Sweater understood. 
 
 ' You might leave that for a few minutes, will you ? ' Rush- 
 ton continued, addressing Owen and Easton. ' Go and get on 
 with something helse for a little while.' 
 
 When they were alone Rushton closed the door and re- 
 marked : 'It's always as well not to let these 'ere fellows know 
 more than is necessary.' 
 
 Sweater agreed. 
 
 ' Now this 'ere drain work is really two separate jobs,' said 
 Rushton. ' First, the drains of the house : that is, the part of 
 the work that's actually on your ground. When that's done, 
 there will 'ave to be a pipe carried right along under this pri- 
 vate road to the main road to connect the drains of the house 
 with the town main. You follow me ? ' 
 
 ' Perfectly. What's it going to cost for the lot ? ' 
 
 94
 
 The Cap on the Stairs 
 
 'For the drains of the house ^25, and for the connecting 
 pipe ,30 ;ss for the lot.' 
 
 ' "Urn : that's the lowest you can do it for, eh ? ' 
 
 I That's the lowest. I've figured it out most carefully, the 
 time and material, and that's practically all I'm charging 
 you.' 
 
 The truth of this matter was that Rush ton had had nothing 
 whatever to do with estimating the cost of this work ; he had 
 not the necessary knowledge. Hunter had drawn the plans, 
 calculated the cost and prepared the estimate. 
 
 4 I've been thinking over this business lately,' said Sweater, 
 looking at Rushton with a cunning leer. ' I don't see why I 
 should have to pay for the connecting pipe. The Corporation 
 ought to pay for that. What do you say ? ' 
 
 Rushton laughed. 'I don't see why not,' he replied. 
 
 ' I think we could arrange it all right, don't you ? ' Sweater 
 went on. 'Anyhow, the work will have to be done, so you'd 
 better let 'em get on with it. $$ covers both jobs, you say ? ' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' Oh, all right, you get on with it and we'll see what can be 
 done with the Corporation later on.' 
 
 I 1 don't suppose we'll find 'em very difficult to deal with,' 
 said Rushton with a grin, and Sweater smiled agreement. 
 
 As they were passing through the hall they met Hunter, 
 who had just arrived. He was rather surprised to see them, 
 as he knew nothing of their appointment. He wished them 
 4 Good morning ' in an awkward, hesitating undertone as if he 
 were doubtful how his greeting would be received. Sweater 
 nodded slightly, but Rushton ignored him altogether, and 
 Nimrod passed on looking and feeling like a disreputable cur 
 that had just been kicked. 
 
 As Sweater and Rushton walked together about the house, 
 Hunter hovered about them at a respectful distance, hoping 
 that presently some notice might be taken of him. His dismal 
 countenance became even longer than usual when he observed 
 that they were about to leave the house without appearing to 
 know that he was there. However, just as they were going 
 out, Rushton paused on the threshold and called him : 
 
 | Mr Hunter!' 
 
 'Yes, sir.' 
 
 Nimrod ran to him like a dog taken notice of by his master. 
 If he had possessed a tail it is probable that he would have 
 
 95
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 wagged it. Rushton gave him the plans with an intimation 
 that the work was to be proceeded with. 
 
 For some time after they were gone Hunter crawled silently 
 about the house, in and out of the rooms, up and down the 
 corridors and the staircases. After a while he went into the 
 room where Newman was and stood quietly watching him for 
 about ten minutes as he worked. The man was painting the 
 skirting, and just then he came to a part that was split in 
 several places, so he took his knife and began to fill the cracks 
 with putty. He was so nervcus under Hunter's scrutiny that 
 his hand trembled to such an extent that it took him about 
 twice as long as it should have done, and Hunter told him so 
 with brutal directness. 
 
 1 Never mind about puttying up such little cracks as them ! ' 
 he shouted. ' Fill 'em up with the paint. We can't afford to pay 
 you for messing about like that ! ' 
 
 Newman made no reply. 
 
 Misery found no excuse for bullying anyone else, because 
 they were all tearing into it for all they were worth. He 
 sneaked into the drawing-room and after standing with a 
 malignant expression, silently watching Owen and Easton, 
 he came out again without having uttered a word. 
 
 Although he frequently acted in this manner, yet somehow 
 to-day the circumstance worried Owen considerably. He won- 
 dered uneasily what it meant, and began to feel vaguely 
 apprehensive. Hunter's silence seemed more menacing than 
 his speech. 
 
 96
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 THE LONG HILL 
 
 BERT arrived at the shop, and with as little delay as possible 
 loaded up the handcart with the things he had been sent for 
 and started on the return journey. He got on all right in the 
 town, because the roads were level and smooth, being paved 
 with wood blocks. If it had only been like that all the way it 
 would have been easy enough, although he was a very small 
 boy for such a large heavily loaded truck. While the wood 
 road lasted the principal trouble was in keeping a lookout a- 
 head, the hand-cart being too high for him to see over, especi- 
 ally with the pair of steps on the top of the other things. 
 However, by taking great care he managed to get through 
 the town safely, although he narrowly escaped colliding 
 with several vehicles, including two or three motor cars 
 and an electric tram, besides nearly knocking over an old 
 woman who was carrying a large bundle of washing. From 
 time to time he saw other small boys of his acquaintance, some 
 of them carrying heavy loads of groceries in baskets, and others 
 with wooden trays full of joints of meat. 
 
 Unfortunately the wood paving ceased at the very place 
 where the ground began to rise. Bert now found himself at 
 the beginning of a long stretch of macadamised road which 
 rose slightly but persistently all the way. Having pushed a 
 cart up this road many times before the boy knew the best 
 method of tackling it, and as experience had taught him that 
 a frontal attack on this hill was liable to failure, he now fol- 
 lowed his usual plan of making diagonal movements, crossing 
 the road repeatedly from right to left and left to right, after 
 the fashion of a sailing ship tacking against the wind, and 
 halting about every twenty yards to rest and take breath. The 
 various tacks were regulated, not so much by his powers of 
 endurance as by the various wayside objects, particularly 
 lamp-posts. During each rest he would look ahead and select 
 G 97
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 a certain lamp-post or street corner as the next stopping place, 
 and when he started again the goal ahead stimulated his 
 strenuous and desperate efforts. 
 
 Very often the object he selected was too far away, for he 
 usually overestimated his strength, and whenever he was 
 forced to give in he ran the truck against the kerb, and stood 
 there panting for breath and feeling profoundly disappointed 
 at his failure. 
 
 During one of these rests, it flashed upon him that he 
 was being a very long time ; he would have to buck up or 
 he would get into a row ; he was not even half way up the 
 road yet ! 
 
 Selecting a distant lamp-post, he determined to reach it be- 
 fore resting again. 
 
 The cart had a single shaft with a cross piece at the end, 
 forming the handle. He gripped this fiercely with both hands 
 and placing his chest against it, with a mighty effort he pushed 
 it along before him. 
 
 It seemed to get heavier and heavier every foot of the way. 
 His whole body, but especially the thighs and the calves of 
 his legs, ached terribly, but still he strained and struggled and 
 said to himself that he would not give in until he reached the 
 lamp-post. 
 
 Finding that the handle hurt his chest he lowered it to his 
 waist, but as that was even more painful he raised it again 
 to his chest, and struggled savagely on, panting for breath 
 and with his heart beating wildly. 
 
 The cart became heavier and heavier. After a while it seemed 
 to the boy as if there were someone at the front of it trying 
 to push him back down the hill. This was such a funny idea 
 that for a moment he felt inclined to laugh, but the inclination 
 went almost as soon as it came and was replaced by the dread 
 that he would not be able to hold out long enough to reach the 
 lamp- post after all. Clenching his teeth he made a tremendous 
 effort and staggered forward two or three more steps and 
 then the cart stopped. He struggled with it despairingly for 
 a few seconds but all the strength had suddenly gone out of 
 him : his legs felt so weak that he nearly collapsed to the 
 ground, and the cart began to move backwards down the hill. 
 He was just able to stick to it and guide it so that it ran in- 
 to and rested against the kerb, and then he stood holding it in 
 a half dazed way, pale, trembling, and saturated with sweat, 
 
 98
 
 The Long Hill 
 
 while his legs shook so much that he felt that unless he could 
 sit down for a little, he would fall down. 
 
 He lowered the handle very carefully so as not to spill the 
 whitewash out of the pail which was hanging from a hook 
 underneath the cart, then sitting down on the kerbstone, he 
 leaned wearily against the wheel. 
 
 A little way down the road was a church with a clock in the 
 tower. It was five minutes to ten by this clock. Bert said to 
 himself that when it was ten he would make another start. 
 
 Whilst he was resting he thought of many things. Just be- 
 hind that church was a field with several ponds in it where 
 he used to go with other boys to catch effets. If it were not 
 for the cart he would go across now, to see whether there were 
 any still there. He remembered that he had been very eager 
 to leave school and go to work, but they used to be fine old 
 times after all. 
 
 Then he thought of the day when his mother took him to 
 Mr Rushton's office to ' bind ' him. He remembered that day 
 very vividly ; it was almost a year ago. How nervous he had 
 been ! His hand had trembled so that he was scarcely able to 
 hold the pen. And even when it was all over, they had 
 both felt miserable, somehow. His mother had been very 
 nervous in the office also, and when they got home she cried 
 a lot and held him close to her and kissed him and called him 
 her poor little fatherless boy, and said she hoped he would be 
 good and try to learn ; and then he cried as well, and promised 
 her that he would do his best. He reflected with pride that he 
 was keeping his promise about being a good boy and trying 
 to learn ; in fact he knew a great deal about the trade already 
 he could paint back doors and railings as well as anybody ! 
 Owen had taught him lots of things and had promised to do 
 some patterns of graining for him so that he might practise 
 copying them at home in the evenings. Owen was a fine chap. 
 Bert resolved that he would tell him what Crass had been say- 
 ing to Easton. Just fancy, the cheek of a rotter like Crass, 
 trying to get Owen the sack ! It would be more like it if Crass 
 was to be sacked himself, so that Owen could be the foreman. 
 
 One minute to ten. 
 
 With a heavy heart Bert watched the clock. His legs were 
 still aching very badly. He could not see the hands of the 
 clock moving, but they were creeping on all the same. Now, 
 the minute hand was over the edge of the number, and he 
 
 99
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 began to deliberate whether he might not rest for another five 
 minutes, but he had been such a long time already on his 
 errand that he dismissed the thought. The minute hand was 
 now upright, and it was time to go on. 
 
 Just as he was about to get up a harsh voice behind him 
 said : 
 
 ' How much longer are you going to sit there ? ' 
 
 Bert started up guiltily and found himself confronted by 
 Mr Rushton, who was regarding him with an angry frown, 
 whilst close by towered the colossal figure of theobese Sweater, 
 the expression on his greasy countenance betokening the pain 
 he experienced at beholding such an appalling example of 
 juvenile indolence. 
 
 4 What do yer mean by sich conduct ? ' demanded Rushton, 
 indignantly. 'The idea of sitting there like that, when most 
 likely the men are waiting for them things ! ' 
 
 Crimson with shame and confusion, the boy made no reply. 
 
 'You've been there a long time,' continued Rushton, 'I've 
 been watchin' you all the time I've been comin' down the road.' 
 
 Bert tried to speak to explain why he had been resting, but 
 his mouth and his tongue had become quite parched from 
 terror and he was unable to articulate a single word. 
 
 'You know, that's not the way to get on in life, my bo}',' 
 observed Sweater, lifting his forefinger and shaking his fat 
 head reproachfully. 
 
 1 Get along with you at once ! ' Rushton said roughly, ' I'm 
 surprised at yer ! The idear ! Sitting down in my time ! ' 
 
 This was quite true. Rushton was not merely angry, but 
 astonished at the audacity of the boy. That anyone in his 
 employment should dare to have the impertinence to sit down 
 in his time was incredible. 
 
 The boy lifted the handle of the cart and once more began 
 to push it up the hill. It seemed heavier now than ever, but 
 he managed to get on somehow. He kept glancing back after 
 Rushton and Sweater, who presently turned a corner and 
 were lost to view ; then he ran the cart to the kerb again to 
 have a breath. He couldn't have kept up much further with- 
 out a spell even if they had still been watching him, but he 
 didn't rest for more than about half a minute this time, because 
 he was afraid they might be peeping round the corner. 
 
 After this he gave up the lamp-post system and halted for 
 a minute or so at regular short intervals. In this way he at 
 
 IOO
 
 The Long Hill 
 
 length reached the top of the hill, and with a sigh of relief 
 congratulated himself that the journey was practically over. 
 
 Just before he arrived at the gate of the house he saw 
 Hunter sneak out and mount his bicycle and ride away. Bert 
 wheeled his cart up to the front door and began carrying in 
 the things. Whilst thus engaged he noticed Philpot peeping 
 cautiously over the banisters of the staircase, and called out 
 to him : 
 
 1 Give us a hand with this bucket of whitewash, will yer, Joe ? ' 
 
 'Certainly, me son, with the greatest of hagony,' replied 
 Philpot as he hurried down the stairs. 
 
 As they were carrying it in Philpot winked at Bert and 
 whispered : 
 
 ' Did yer see Pontius Pilate anywheres outside ? ' 
 
 ' 'E went away on 'is bike just as I come in the gate.' 
 
 'Did 'e! Thank Gord for that ! I don't wish 'im no 'arm,' 
 said Philpot fervently, ' but I 'opes 'e gets runned over with 
 a motor.' 
 
 In this wish Bert entirely concurred, and similar charitable 
 sentiments were expressed by all the others as soon as they 
 heard that Misery was gone. 
 
 Just before four o'clock that afternoon Bert began to load 
 up the truck with the Venetian blinds, which had been taken 
 down some days previously. 
 
 ' I wonder who'll have the job of paintin' 'em ? ' remarked 
 Philpot to Newman. 
 
 ' Praps they'll take a couple of us away from 'ere.' 
 
 ' I shouldn't think so. We're short 'anded 'ere already. Most 
 likely they'll put on a couple of fresh 'ands. There's a 'ell of a 
 lot of work in all them blinds, you know ! I reckon they'll 
 'ave to 'ave three or four coats, the state they're in.' 
 
 1 Yes, no doubt that's what will be done,' replied Newman, 
 and added with a mirthless laugh : 
 
 ' I don't suppose they'll have much difficulty in getting a 
 couple of chaps.' 
 
 ' No, you're right, mate. There's plenty of 'em walkin' about 
 as a week's work would be a gordsend to.' 
 
 'Come to think of it,' continued Newman, after a pause, ' I 
 believe the firm used to give all their blind work to old Latham, 
 the Venetian blind maker. Prap's they'll give 'im this lot to do.' 
 
 ' Very likely,' replied Philpot ; ' I should think 'e can do 'em 
 cheaper even than us chaps, and that's all the firm cares about.' 
 
 IOI
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 How far their conjectures were fulfilled will appear later. 
 
 Shortly after it became so dark that it was necessary to 
 light the candles, and Philpot remarked that although he 
 hated working under such conditions, yet he was always glad 
 when lighting up time came because then knocking off time 
 was not very far behind. 
 
 About five minutes to five, just as they were all putting their 
 things away for the night, Nimrod suddenly appeared in the 
 house. He had come hoping to find some of them ready dressed 
 to go home before the proper time. Having failed in this laud- 
 able enterprise he stood silently by himself for some seconds in 
 the drawing-room. This was a spacious and lofty apartment 
 with a large semi-circular bay window. Round the ceiling was 
 a deep cornice. In the semi-darkness the room appeared to be 
 of even greater proportions than it really was. After standing 
 thinking in this room for a little while Hunter turned and 
 strode out to the kitchen, where the men were preparing to go 
 home. Owen was taking off his blouse and apron as the other 
 entered. Hunter addressed him with a malevolent snarl : 
 
 ' You can call at the office to-night as you go home.' 
 
 Owen's heart seemed to stop beating. All the petty annoy- 
 ances he had endured from Hunter rushed into his memory, 
 together with what Easton had told him that morning. He 
 stood, still and speechless, holding his apron in his hand and 
 staring at the manager. 
 
 4 What for ? ' he ejaculated at length. ' What's the matter ? ' 
 
 ' You'll find out what you're wanted for when you get there,' 
 returned Hunter as he went out of the room and away from 
 the house. 
 
 When he was gone a dead silence prevailed. The hands 
 ceased their preparations for departure and looked at each 
 other and at Owen in astonishment. To stand a man off like 
 that when the job was not half finished and for noapparent 
 reason ; and of a Monday, too. It was unheard of. There was 
 a general chorus of indignation. Harlow and Philpot especially 
 were very wroth. 
 
 'If it comes to that,' Harlow shouted, 'they've got no 
 bloody right to do it ! We're entitled to an hour's notice.' 
 
 1 Of course we are ! ' cried Philpot, his goggle eyes rolling 
 wildly with wrath. 'And I should 'ave it, too, if it was me. 
 You take my tip, Frank : Charge up to six o'clock on yer time 
 sheet and get some of your own back.' 
 
 IO2
 
 The Long Hill 
 
 Everyone joined in the outburst of indignant protest. Every- 
 one, that is, except Crass and Slyme. But then they were 
 not exactly in the kitchen. They were out in the scullery 
 putting their things away and so it happened that they said 
 nothing, although they exchanged significant looks. 
 
 Owen had by this time recovered his self-possession. He 
 collected all his tools and put them with his apron and blouse 
 into his tool bag with the purpose of taking them with him 
 that night, but on reflection he resolved not to do so. After 
 all, it was not absolutely certain that he was going to be 
 'stood off'; possibly they were going to send him to some 
 other job. 
 
 The men kept together some walking on the pavement 
 and some in the road until they got down town, and then 
 separated. Crass, Sawkins, Bundy and Philpot adjourned to 
 the ' Cricketers ' for a drink, Newman went on by himself, 
 Slyme accompanied Easton, to see the bedroom to let, and 
 Owen went in the direction of Rushton's office. 
 
 103
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 HANDS AND BRAINS 
 
 WHEN Easton, accompanied by Slyme, arrived home that 
 evening, Ruth had just been putting the child to sleep, and 
 she stood up as they came in, hastily fastening the bodice of 
 her dress. 
 
 4 I've brought a gentleman to see you,' said Easton. 
 
 Although she knew that he was looking out for someone 
 for the room, Ruth had not expected him to bring anyone 
 home in this sudden manner, and she could not help wishing 
 that he had told her beforehand of his intention. She had been 
 very busy all day and was conscious that she was rather 
 untidy. The coils of her long brown hair had become loosened 
 with her exertions, and she blushed in an embarrassed way 
 as the young man stared at her. 
 
 Easton introduced Slyme by name and they shook hands ; 
 and then at Ruth's suggestion Easton took a light to show 
 him the room, while Ruth hurriedly tidied her hair and dress. 
 
 When they came down again Slyme said he thought the 
 room would suit him very well. What were the terms ? 
 
 Did he wish to take the room only just to lodge, enquired 
 Ruth, or would he prefer to board as well ? 
 
 Slyme intimated that he desired the latter arrangement. 
 
 In that case she thought twelve shillings a week would be 
 fair. She believed that was about the usual amount. Of course 
 that would include washing, and if his clothes needed a little 
 mending she would do it for him. 
 
 Slyme expressed bimself satisfied with these terms, which 
 were as Ruth had said about the usual ones. He would 
 take the room, but he was not leaving his present lodgings 
 until Saturday. It was therefore agreed that he was to bring 
 his box on Saturday evening. 
 
 When he had gone, Easton and Ruth stood looking at each 
 other in silence. Ever since this plan of letting the room first 
 
 104
 
 Hands and Brains 
 
 occurred to them they had been very anxious to accomplish 
 it ; and yet, now that it was done, they felt dissatisfied and 
 unhappy, as if they had suddenly experienced some irrepar- 
 able misfortune. In that moment they remembered nothing of 
 the darker side of their life together. The hard times and the 
 privations seemed insignificant beside the fact that this strang- 
 er was for the future to share their home. To Ruth especially 
 it seemed that the happiness of the past twelve months had 
 suddenly come to an end. She shrank with involuntary aver- 
 sion and apprehension from the picture that rose before her 
 in which this intruder appeared the most prominent figure, 
 interfering with every detail of their home life. Of course they 
 had known all this before, but somehow it had never seemed 
 so objectionable as it did now, and as Easton thought of it he 
 was filled with an unreasonable resentment against Slyme, as 
 if the latter had forced himself upon them against their will. 
 
 1 Damn him ! ' he thought. ' I wish I'd never brought him 
 here at all ! ' 
 
 | Well ? ' he said at last. ' What do you think of him ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, he'll be all right, I suppose.' 
 
 'For my part, I wish he wasn't coming,' Easton continued. 
 
 'That's just what I was thinking,' replied Ruth, dejectedly. 
 ' I don't like him at all. I seemed to turn against him directly 
 he came in the door.' 
 
 ' I've a good mind to back out of it somehow, to-morrow,' 
 exclaimed Easton, after another silence. ' I could tell him 
 we've unexpectedly got some friends coming to stay with us.' 
 
 4 Yes,' said Ruth, eagerly, ' it would be easy enough to make 
 some excuse or other.' 
 
 As this way of escape presented itself she felt as if a weight 
 had been lifted from her mind, but almost in the same instant, 
 remembering how necessary it was to let the room, she added 
 disconsolately : 
 
 1 It's foolish for us to go on like this, dear. We must let the 
 room and it might just as well be him as anyone else. We 
 must make the best of it, that's all.' 
 
 Easton stood with his back to the fire, staring gloomily 
 at her. 
 
 ' Yes, I suppose that's the right way to look at it,' he replied 
 at length. ' If we can't stand it, we'll give up the house and 
 take a couple of rooms, or a small flat if we can get one.' 
 
 Ruth agreed, although neither alternative was very inviting- 
 
 105
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 After all, the unwelcome alteration in their circumstances 
 was not without its compensations, because it had the effect 
 of renewing and intensifying their love for each other. They 
 remembered with acute regret that hitherto they had not 
 always fully appreciated the happiness of that exclusive com- 
 panionship of which there now remained but one week more. 
 For once the present was esteemed at its proper value, being 
 invested with some of the glamour which almost always en- 
 velops the past. 
 
 Meanwhile Owen, in consequence of Hunter's order, had 
 made his way straight to the office. 
 
 Rushton and Company's premises were situated in one of 
 the principal streets of Mugsborough and consisted of a double 
 fronted shop which extended to a narrow back street. The 
 front part of the shop was stocked with wall hangings, mould- 
 ings, stands showing patterns of embossed wall and ceiling 
 decorations, cases of brushes, tins of varnish and enamel, and 
 similar things. 
 
 The office, which was at the rear and separated from the 
 shop by a partition, had two doors, one giving access to the 
 front shop, and the other opening on to the back street near 
 a window on which was painted ' Rushton and Company ' in 
 black letters on a white ground. 
 
 Owen stood outside this window for two or three seconds. 
 There was a bright light in the office. Then he knocked 
 at the door, which was at once opened by Hunter. 
 
 Rushton was seated in an armchair at his desk, smoking a 
 cigar and reading one of several letters that were lying before 
 him. 
 
 He was a tall, clumsily built man, about thirty-five years 
 of age. His eyes were light grey, and his hair and moustache 
 were fair. He was not corpulent, but appeared to be well fed 
 and ' in good condition.' He wore a grey Norfolk suit, and his 
 clothes were well made and of good quality. 
 
 Rushton glanced up carelessly as Owen came in, but took 
 no further notice of him, and Hunter, after conversing with 
 his master in a low tone, put on his hat and went out of the 
 office through the partition door which led into the front 
 shop. 
 
 Owen stood waiting for Rushton to speak. He wondered 
 why Hunter had sneaked off, and felt inclined to open the 
 door and call him back. One thing he was determined about. 
 
 1 06
 
 Hands and Brains 
 
 He meant to have some explanation ; he would not submit 
 tamely to be dismissed without any just reason. 
 
 When Rushton had finished reading the letter, he looked 
 up, and leaning comfortably back in his chair, blew a cloud of 
 smoke from his cigar, and said in an affable, indulgent tone, 
 such as one might use to a child : 
 
 4 You're a bit of a hartist, aint yer ? ' 
 
 Owen was so surprised at this reception that for the moment 
 he was unable to reply. 
 
 ' You know what I mean, 'continued Rushton ; 'decorating 
 work, something like them samples of yours what's hanging 
 up there.' 
 
 He noticed the embarrassment of Owen's manner, and was 
 gratified. He thought the man was confused at being spoken 
 to by such a superior person. 
 
 'Yes,' replied Owen at last, ' I can do a little of that sort 
 of work, although of course I don't profess to be able to do it 
 as well or as quickly as a man who does nothing else.' 
 
 ' Oh, no, of course not ; but I think you could manage this 
 all right. It's that drawing-room at the " Cave." Mr Sweater's 
 been speaking to me about it. It seems that when he was over 
 in Paris he saw a room as took his fancy. The walls and 
 ceiling was not papered, but painted sort of panelled out, 
 and decorated with stencils and hand painting. This 'eres a 
 photer of it ; it's done in a sort of Japanese fashion.' 
 
 He handed the photograph to Owen as he spoke. It repre- 
 sented a room, the walls and ceiling of which were decorated 
 in a Moorish style. 
 
 4 At first Mr Sweater thought of getting a firm from London 
 to do it,' continued Rushton, ' but 'e gave up the idear on 
 account of the expense ; but if you can do it so that it doesn't 
 cost too much, I think I can persuade 'im to go in for it. But 
 if it's goin' to cost a lot it won't come off at all. 'E'll just 'ave 
 a frieze put up and 'ave the room papered in the ordinary way.' 
 
 This was not true ; Rushton said it in case Owen might 
 want to be paid extra wages while doing the work. Sweater 
 was going to have the room decorated in any case, and intended 
 to get a London firm to do it. He had consented rather un- 
 willingly to let Rushton and Company submit him an estimate 
 because he thought they would not be able to do the work 
 satisfactorily. 
 
 Owen examined the photograph closely. 
 
 107
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 4 Could you do anything like that in that room ? ' 
 
 1 Yes, I think so,' replied Owen. 
 
 4 Well, you know, I don't want you to start on the job and 
 not be able to finish it. Can you do it or not ? ' 
 
 Rushton felt sure that Owen could do it, and was very 
 desirous that he should undertake it, but he did not want him 
 to know that. He wished to convey the impression that he 
 was almost indifferent whether Owen did the work or not. In 
 fact he wished to seem to be conferring a favour upon him by 
 procuring him such a nice job as this. 
 
 Til tell you what I can do,' Owen replied ; 'I can make 
 you a water-colour sketch a design and if you think it 
 good enough of course I can reproduce it on the ceiling and 
 the walls, and I can let you know, within a little, how long 
 it will take.' 
 
 Rushton appeared to reflect. Owen stood examining the 
 photograph, and began to feel an intense desire to do the work. 
 
 Rushton shook his head dubiously. 
 
 4 If I let you spend a lot of time over the sketches and then 
 Mr Sweater does not approve of your design, where do I 
 come in ? ' 
 
 ' Well, suppose we put it like this : I'll draw the design at 
 home, in the evenings in my own time. If it's accepted I'll 
 charge you for the time I've spent upon it. If it's not suitable 
 I won't charge the time at all.' 
 
 Rushton brightened up considerably. 4 All right, you can do 
 so,' he said with an affectation of good nature. 4 But you 
 mustn't pile it on too thick, in any case, you know, because, 
 as I said before, 'e don't want to spend too much money on it. 
 In fact, if it's goin' to cost a great deal 'e simply won't 'ave it 
 done at all.' 
 
 Rushton knew Owen well enough to be sure that no con- 
 sideration of time or pains would prevent him from putting the 
 very best that was in him into this work. He knew that if the 
 man did the room at all there was no likelihood of his scamping 
 it for the sake of getting it done quickly ; and for that matter 
 Rushton did not wish him to hurry over it. But he was 
 anxious to impress upon Owen that he must not charge too 
 much time. Any profit that could be made out of the job 
 Rushton meant to secure for himself. 
 
 4 When do you think you'll have the drawings ready?' 
 enquired Rushton. 4 Can you get them done to-night ? ' 
 
 1 08
 
 Hands and Brains 
 
 ' I'm afraid not,' replied Owen, feeling inclined to laugh at 
 the absurdity of the question. ' It will need a little thinking 
 about.' 
 
 ' When can you have them ready then ? This is Monday 
 Wednesday morning ? ' 
 
 Owen hesitated. 
 
 ' We don't want to keep 'im waiting too long, you knows, 
 or 'e may give up the idear altogether.' 
 
 ' Well, say Friday morning, then,' said Owen, resolving that 
 he would stay up all night if necessary to get it done. 
 Rush ton shook his head. 
 
 ' Can't you get it done before that ? I'm afraid if we keeps 
 'im waiting all that time we may lose the job altogether.' 
 
 4 1 can't get them done any quicker in my spare time,' 
 returned Owen, flushing; 'if you like to let me stay at home 
 to-morrow and charge the time the same as if I had gone to 
 work at the house, I could go to my ordinary work on 
 Wednesday and let you have the drawings on Thursday 
 morning.' 
 
 'Oh, all right,' said Rushton, hastily; 'but all the same, 
 don't pile it on too thick, or we shall 'ave to charge so much 
 for the work that 'e won't 'ave it done at all. Good-night.' 
 
 ' I suppose I may take this photograph with me ? ' 
 
 'Yes, certainly,' said Rushton, as he returned to the 
 perusal of his letters. 
 
 That night, long after his wife and Frankie were asleep, 
 Owen worked in the sitting room, searching old numbers of 
 the ' Decorator's Journal ' and through the illustrations in 
 other books of designs for examples of Moorish work, and 
 making rough sketches in pencil. 
 
 He did not attempt to finish anything yet, but he roughed 
 out the general plan, and when at last he went to bed he could 
 not sleep for a long time. He almost fancied he was in the 
 drawing room at the ' Cave '. First of all it would be necessary 
 to take down the ugly plaster centre flower with its crevices 
 all filled up with old whitewash. The cornice was all right ; it 
 was fortunately a very simple one, with a deep cove and with- 
 out many enrichments. Then, when the walls and the ceiling 
 had been properly prepared, the ornamentation would be pro- 
 ceeded with : the walls divided into panels and arches con- 
 taining painted designs and lattice work, the panels of the 
 door decorated in a similar manner ; the mouldings of the door 
 
 109
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 and window frames picked out with colours and gold so as to 
 be in character with the other work, the cove of the cornice, 
 a dull yellow with a bold ornament in colour gold was not 
 advisable in the hollow because of the unequal distribution of 
 the light, but some of the smaller mouldings of the cornice 
 should be gold. On the ceiling there would be one large panel 
 covered with an appropriate design in gold and colours, and 
 surrounded by a wide margin or border. Great care would 
 have to be used when it came to the gilding, because, whilst 
 large masses of gilding are apt to look garish and in bad taste, 
 a lot of fine gold lines are ineffective, especially on a flat sur- 
 face. Process by process he traced the work, and saw it ad- 
 vancing stage by stage until finally the large apartment was 
 transformed and glorified. And then, in the midst of the pleasure 
 he experienced in the planning of the design, there came the 
 fear that perhaps they would not have it done at all. 
 
 The question as to what personal advantage he would gain 
 never once occured to Owen. He simply wanted to do the 
 work ; and he was so fully occupied with thinking how it was 
 to be done that the question of profit was crowded out. 
 
 On the other hand, this question of profit was the only part 
 of the work that his employer would consider at all, thus 
 illustrating the oft-quoted saying : 'The men work with their 
 hands the master works with his brains.' 
 
 1 IO
 
 CHAPTER X 
 THE UPPER AND THE NETHER MILLSTONES 
 
 ON Thursday Owen stayed at home until after breakfast to 
 finish the designs which he had promised to have ready that 
 morning. 
 
 When he took them to the office at nine o'clock, as he had 
 arranged, he had to wait half an hour before Rushton put in 
 an appearance, for, like many others who ' work with their 
 brains,' he needed a great deal more rest than those who are 
 employed in mere physical labour. 
 
 4 Oh, you've brought them sketches, I suppose,' he remarked 
 in a surly tone when he came in. ' You know, there was no 
 need for you to wait ; you could 'ave left 'em 'ere and gone 
 on to your job.' 
 
 He sat down at his desk and looked carelessly at the draw- 
 ing. It was on a sheet of paper about twenty-four by eighteen 
 inches. The design was drawn with pencil and one half of it 
 was coloured. 
 
 'That's for the ceiling,' said Owen, ' I hadn't time to colour 
 all of it.' 
 
 With an affectation of indifference Rushton laid the draw- 
 ing down and took the other which Owen handed to him. 
 
 4 This is for the large wall. The same design would be 
 adapted for the other walls ; and this one shows the door and 
 the panels under the window.' 
 
 Rushton expressed no opinion about the merits of the 
 drawings. He examined them carelessly one after the other, 
 and then laying them down he enquired : 
 
 4 How long would it take you to do this work if we get 
 the job ? ' 
 
 1 About three weeks say 150 hours. That is for the decora- 
 tive work only. Of course the walls and ceiling would have to 
 be painted first ; they will need three coats of white.' 
 
 Rushton scribbled a note on a piece of paper. 4 Well,' he 
 
 II I
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 said, after a pause, 'you can leave these 'ere and I'll see Mr 
 Sweater about it and tell 'im what it will cost, and if he decides 
 to have it done I'll let you know.' 
 
 He put the drawings aside with the air of a man who has 
 other matters to attend to, and began to open one of several 
 letters that were on his desk. He meant this as an intimation 
 that the audience was at an end, and that he desired the ' hand ' 
 to retire from the presence. Owen understood, but he did not 
 retire, because it was necessary to mention one or two other 
 things which Rushton would have to allow for when prepar- 
 ing the estimate. 
 
 'Of course I should want some help,' he said. ' I should 
 need a man occasionally, and the boy most of the time. Then 
 there's the gold leaf say fifteen books.' 
 
 ' Don't you think it would be possible to use gold paint ? ' 
 
 ' I'm afraid not.' 
 
 ' Is there anything else ? ' enquired Rushton as he finished 
 writing down these items. 
 
 1 1 think that's all, except a few sheets of cartridge paper 
 for stencils and working drawings. The quantity of paint 
 necessary for the decorative work will be very small.' 
 
 As soon as Owen was gone Rushton took up the designs 
 and examined them attentively. 
 
 'These are all right,' he muttered. 'Good enough for any- 
 where. If he can paint anything like as well as this on the 
 walls and ceiling of the room, it will stand all the looking at 
 that anyone in the town is likely to give it.' 
 
 'Let's see,' he continued, 'He said three weeks, but he's 
 so anxious to do the job that he's most likely under estimated 
 the time. I'd better allow four weeks : that means about two 
 hundred hours. Two hundred hours at eightpence how much 
 is that ? And say he has a painter to help him half the time, 
 one hundred hours at sixpence ha'penny.' 
 
 He consulted a ready reckoner that was on the desk. 
 
 'Time : 9 75. 6d. Materials: fifteen books of gold, say a 
 pound. Then there's the cartridge paper and the colours say 
 another pound, at the outside. Boy's time ? Well, he gets no 
 wages as yet, so we needn't mention that at all. Then there's 
 the preparing of the room. Three coats of white paint. I wish 
 'Unter was 'ere to give me an idea what it will cost.' 
 
 As if in answer to his wish Nimrod entered the office at 
 that moment, and in reply to Rushton's query said that to 
 
 I 12
 
 The Upper and the Nether Millstones 
 
 give the walls and ceiling three coats of paint would cost 
 about three pounds five, for time and material. Between them 
 the two brainworkers figured that fifteen pounds would cover 
 the entire cost of the work painting and decorating. 
 
 'Well, I reckon we can charge Sweater forty-five pounds 
 for it,' said Rushton. ' It isn't like an ordinary job, you know. 
 If he gets a London firm to do it, it'll cost him double that, 
 if not more.' 
 
 Having arrived at this decision Rushton rang up Sweater's 
 Emporium on the telephone, and finding that Mr Sweater was 
 there he rolled up the designs and set out for that gentleman's 
 office. 
 
 Hunter had taken on three more painters that morning. 
 Bundy and two labourers were putting in the new drains; the 
 carpenters had returned, and there was also a plumber at 
 work in the house, so there was quite a little crowd in the 
 kitchen at dinner time. Crass had been waiting for a suitable 
 opportunity to produce the newspaper cutting which it will 
 be remembered he showed to Easton on Monday morning, 
 but he had waited in vain, for there had been scarcely any 
 1 political ' talk at meal times all the week, and it was now 
 Thursday. As far as Owen was concerned his thoughts were 
 so occupied with the designs for the drawing-room that he 
 had no time for anything else, and most of the others were 
 only too willing to avoid a subject which frequently led to un- 
 pleasantness. As a rule Crass himself had no liking for such 
 discussions, but he was so confident of being able to ' flatten 
 out ' Owen with the cutting from the 'Obscurer ' that he had 
 several times tried to lead the conversation into the desired 
 channel, but so far without success. 
 
 During dinner as they called it various subjects were 
 discussed. Harlow mentioned that he had found traces of bugs 
 in one of the bedrooms upstairs, and this called forth a number 
 of anecdotes about those insects andof houses infested by them. 
 Philpot remembered working in a house over at Windley 
 where the people were very dirty and had no bedsteads, the 
 beds consisting of dilapidated mattresses and rags on the floor. 
 He declared that these ragged mattresses used to wander about 
 the rooms by themselves. The house was so full of fleas, he said, 
 that if you placed a sheet of newspaper on the floor j r ou could 
 hear and see them jumping on it. In fact, directly anyone 
 went into that house they were covered from head to foot with 
 H 113
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 fleas ! During the few days he worked at that place, he con- 
 tinued, he lost several pounds in weight, and of evenings, as 
 he walked homewards, the children and the people in the 
 streets, observing his ravaged countenance, thought he was 
 suffering from some disease and used to get out of his way 
 when they saw him coming. 
 
 There were several other of these narratives, four or five 
 men talking at the top of their voices at the same time, each 
 one telling a different story. At first each story-teller addressed 
 himself to the company generally, but after a while, finding it 
 impossible to get a hearing, he would select some particular 
 individual who seemed disposed to listen, and tell him the 
 story. It sometimes happened that in the middle of the tale 
 the listener would remember a somewhat similar adventure of 
 his own which he immediately proceeded to relate without 
 waiting for the other to finish, and both of them were gener- 
 ally so interested in the gruesome details of their own story 
 that they were unconscious of the fact that the other was tell- 
 ing one at all. In a contest of this kind the victory usually 
 went to the man with the loudest voice, but sometimes a man 
 who had a weak voice scored by repeating the same tale 
 several times until some one heard it. 
 
 There was one man sitting on an up-ended pail in the far 
 corner of the room, and from the movements of his lips it was 
 evident that he also was relating a story, although nobody 
 knew what it was about or heard a single word of it, for no 
 one took the slightest notice of him. After a time Bundy stood 
 up to help himself to some more tea. The cup he was drinking 
 from had a large piece broken out of one side and did not hold 
 much, so he usually had to have three or four helpings. 
 
 1 Anyone else want any ? ' he asked. 
 
 Several cups and jars were passed to him. These vessels 
 had been standing on the floor, which was very dirty and 
 covered with dust, so before dipping them into the pail, Bundy 
 who had been working at the drains all the morning wiped 
 the bottoms of the jars upon his trousers, on the same place 
 where he was in the habit of wiping his hands when he hap- 
 pened to get some dirt on them. He filled the jars so full that 
 as he held them by the rims and passed them to their owners 
 part of the contents slopped over and trickled through his 
 fingers. By the time he had finished the floor was covered 
 with little pools of tea. 
 
 114
 
 The Upper and the Nether Millstones 
 
 4 They say that Gord made everything for some useful pur- 
 pose,' remarked Harlow, reverting to the original subject, but 
 I should like to know what the hell's the use of sich things as 
 bugs and fleas and the like.' 
 
 4 To teach people to keep theirselves clean, of course,' said 
 Slyme. 
 
 'That's a very funny subject, ain't it?' continued Harlow, 
 ignoring Slyme's answer. 'They say as all diseases is caused 
 by little insects. If Gord 'adn't made no cancer germs or con- 
 sumption microbes there wouldn't be no cancer or consump- 
 tion.' 
 
 ' That's one of the proofs that there isn't an individual God,' 
 said Owen. ' If we were to believe that the Universe and every- 
 thing that lives was deliberately designed and created by God, 
 then we must also believe that He made the disease germs you 
 are speaking of for the purpose of torturing His other 
 creatures.' 
 
 4 You can't tell me a bloody yarn like that,' interposed Crass 
 roughly. ' There's a Ruler over us, mate, and so you're likely 
 to find out.' 
 
 4 If Gord didn't create the world, 'ow did it come 'ere ? ' de- 
 manded Slyme. 
 
 ' I know no more about that than you do,' replied Owen. 
 ' That is I know nothing. The only difference between us is 
 that you think you know. You think you know that God made 
 the universe, how long it took Him to do it, why He made it, 
 how long it's been in existence, and how it will finally pass 
 away. You also imagine you know that we shall live after 
 we're dead, where we shall go, and the kind of existence we 
 shall have. In fact, in the excess of your " humility " you think 
 you know all about it. But really you know no more of these 
 things than any other human being does ; that is, you know 
 nothing.' 
 
 'That's on\yyour opinion,' said Slyme. 
 
 4 If we care to take the trouble to learn,' Owen went on, 
 ' we can know a little of how the universe has grown and 
 changed ; but of the beginning we know nothing.' 
 
 'That's just my opinion, matey,' observed Philpot ; 'it's 
 just a bloody mystery, and that's all about it.' 
 
 4 1 don't pretend to 'ave no 'ead knowledge,' said Slyme, 
 4 but 'ead knowledge won't save a man's soul : it's 'ear/ know- 
 ledge as does that. I knows in my 'eart as my sins is all hun-
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 der the Blood, and it's knowin' that wot's given 'appiness and 
 the peace which passes all understanding to me ever since 
 I've been a Christian.' 
 
 1 Glory, glory, halleujah ! ' shouted Bundy, and nearly every- 
 one laughed. 
 
 "Christian" is right,' sneered Owen. 'You've got some 
 title to call yourself a " Christian ", haven't you ? As for the 
 happiness that passes all understanding, it certainly passes 
 my understanding how you can be happy when you believe 
 that millions of people are being tortured in hell ; and it also 
 passes my understanding why you are not ashamed of your- 
 self for being happy under such circumstances.' 
 
 'Ah, well, you'll find it all out when you comes to die, 
 mate,' replied Sly me in a threatening tone. ' You'll think and 
 talk different then ! ' 
 
 'That's just wot gets over me, 1 observed Harlow. ' It don't 
 seem right that after living in misery and poverty all our 
 bloody lives, workin' and slavin' all the hours that Gord 
 a'mighty sends, that we're to be bloody well set fire to and 
 burned in 'ell for all eternity ! It don't seem feasible to me, 
 you know.' 
 
 'It's my belief,' said Philpot, profoundly, 'that when you're 
 dead, you're done for. That's the end of you.' 
 
 'That's what /say,' remarked Easton. 'As for all this re- 
 ligious business, it's just a money-making dodge. It's the 
 parson's trade, just the same as painting is ours, only there's 
 no work attached to it, and the pay's a bloody sight better 
 than ours is.' 
 
 ' It's their livin', and a bloody good livin' too, if you ask 
 me,' said Bundy. 
 
 'Yes,' said Harlow, 'they lives on the fat o' the land, and 
 wears the best of everything, and they does nothing for it but 
 talk a lot of twaddle two or three times a week. The rest of 
 the time they spend cadgin' money orf silly old women who 
 thinks it's a sorter fire insurance.' 
 
 ' It's an old sayin' and a true one,' chimed in the man on 
 the upturned pail, ' parsons and publicans is the worst enemies 
 the workin' man ever 'ad. There may be some good 'uns, but 
 they're few and far between.' 
 
 ' If I could only get a job like the Harchbishop of Canter- 
 bury,' said Philpot, solemnly, ' I'd leave this firm.' 
 
 'So would I,' said Harlow. 'If I was the Harchbishop o' 
 
 It6
 
 The Upper and the Nether Millstones 
 
 Canterbury, I'd take my pot and brushes down to the office 
 and shy 'em through the bloody winder, and tell ole Misery 
 to go to 'ell.' 
 
 ' Religion is a thing that don't trouble me much,' remarked 
 Newman, ' and as for what happens to you after death, it's a 
 thing I believes in leavin* till you comes to it there's no 
 sense in meetin' trouble arf way. All the things they tells us 
 may be true or they may not, but it takes me all my time to 
 look after this world. I don't believe I've been to church more 
 than arf a dozen times since I've been married that's over 
 fifteen years ago now and then it's been when the kids 'ave 
 been christened. The old woman goes sometimes, and of 
 course, the young 'uns goes ; you've got to tell 'em somethin' 
 or other, and they might as well learn what they teaches at 
 the Sunday school as anything else.' 
 
 A general murmur of approval greeted this. It seemed to 
 be the almost unanimous opinion that, whether it were true 
 or not, 'religion ' was a nice thing to teach children. 
 
 1 I've not been even once since I was married,' said Harlow, 
 'and I sometimes wish to Christ I 'adn't gorn then.' 
 
 ' I don't see as it matters a dam wot a man believes,' said 
 Philpot, ' so long as you don't do no 'arm to nobody. If you 
 see a poor bleeder wot's down on 'is luck, give 'im a 'elpin 'and. 
 Even if you aint got no money you can say a kind word. If a 
 man does 'is work and looks arter 'is 'ome and 'is young 'uns, 
 and does a good turn to a fellow creature when 'e can, I 
 reckon 'e stands as much chance of getting into 'eaven if 
 there is sich a place as some of these 'ere Bible busters, 
 whether 'e ever goes to church or chapel or not.' 
 
 These sentiments were echoed by everyone with the solitary 
 exception of Slyme, who said that Philpot would find out his 
 mistake after he was dead, when he would have to stand 
 before the Great White Throne for Judgment ! 
 
 ' And at the Last Day,' he added, 'when yer sees the moon 
 turned inter blood, you'll be cryin' hout for the mountings 
 and the rocks to fall on yer and 'ide yer from the wrath of 
 the Lamb ! ' 
 
 The others laughed derisively. 
 
 ' I'm a Bush Baptist meself,' remarked the man on the up- 
 turned pail. This individual, Dick Wantley by name, was of 
 what is usually termed a ' rugged ' cast of countenance, and 
 strongly resembled an ancient gargoyle. 
 
 117
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 
 
 Most of the hands had by now lit their pipes, but there 
 were a few who preferred chewing their tobacco. As they 
 smoked or chewed they expectorated upon the floor or into 
 the fire. Wantley was one of those who preferred chewing 
 and he had been spitting upon the floor to such an extent 
 that he was by this time partly surrounded by a kind of semi- 
 circular moat of dark brown spittle. 
 
 1 I'm a Bush Baptist/ he shouted across the moat, ' and 
 you all knows wot that is.' 
 
 This confession of faith caused a fresh outburst of hilarity, 
 because of course everyone knew what a Bush Baptist was. 
 
 'If 'eaven's goin' to be full of sich swines as 'Unter,' 
 observed Easton, ' I think I'd rather go to the other place.' 
 
 'If ever ole Misery does get into 'eaven.' said Philpot, "e 
 won't stop there very long. I reckon 'e'll be chucked out of it 
 before 'e's been there a week, because 'e's sure to start 
 pinchin' the jewels out of the other saints' crowns.' 
 
 ' Well, if they won't 'ave 'im in 'eaven I'm sure I don't 
 know wot's to become of 'im,' said Harlow with assumed 
 concern,' because I don't believe 'e'd be allowed into 'ell, now.' 
 
 1 Why not ? ' demanded Bundy. ' I should think it's just 
 the bloody place for sich as Mm.' 
 
 1 So it used to be at one time o* day, but they've changed 
 all that now. They've 'ad a revolution down there ; deposed 
 the Devil, elected a parson as President, and started puttin' 
 the fire out.' 
 
 'From what I hears of it,' continued Harlow when the 
 laughter had ceased, ' 'ell is a bloody fine place to live in just 
 now. There's underground railways and 'lectric trams, and 
 at the corner of nearly every street there's a sort of pub where 
 you can buy ice cream, lemon squash, four ale, and American 
 cold drinks ; and you're allowed to sit in a refrigerator for 
 two hours for a tanner.' 
 
 'But puttin' all jokes aside,' said Philpot, 'I can't believe 
 there's sich a place as 'ell. There may be some kind of punish- 
 ment, but I don't believe it's a real fire.' 
 
 'Nor nobody else, what's got any sense,' replied Harlow, 
 contemptuously. 
 
 ' I believe as this world is 'ell,' said Crass, looking around 
 with a philosophic expression. This opinion was echoed by 
 most of the others, although Slyme remained silent and Owen 
 laughed. 
 
 118
 
 The Upper and the Nether Millstones 
 
 'Wot the bloody 'ell are you laughin' at? ' Crass demanded 
 in an indignant tone. 
 
 ' I was laughing because you said you think this world is hell.' 
 
 ' Well, I don't see nothing to laugh at in that,' said Crass. 
 
 'So it t's a 'ell/ said Easton. 'There can't be anywheres 
 much worse than this.' 
 
 ' 'Ear, 'ear ! ' said the man behind the moat. 
 
 'What I was laughing at is this,' said Owen ; ' the present 
 system of managing the affairs of the world is so bad and has 
 produced such dreadful results that you are of opinion that 
 the earth is a hell, and yet you are a Conservative ! You wish 
 to preserve the present system the system which has made 
 the world into a hell ! ' 
 
 4 1 thought we shouldn't get through the dinner hour with- 
 out politics if Owen was 'ere,' growled Bundy. 'Bloody 
 sickenin' I call it.' 
 
 ' Don't be 'ard on 'im,' said Philpot ; 'e's been very quiet fer 
 the last few days.' 
 
 'We'll 'ave to go through it to-day, though,' remarked 
 Harlow despairingly. ' I can see it comin'.' 
 
 '/'w not agoin' through it,' said Bundy, ' I'm orf ! ' and he 
 accordingly drank the remainder of his tea, closed his empty 
 dinner basket, and having placed it on the mantelshelf, made 
 for the door. 
 
 ' I'll leave you to it,' he said as he went out. The others 
 laughed. 
 
 Crass, remembering the cutting from the 'Obscurer' that 
 he had in his pocket was secretly very pleased at the turn 
 the conversation was taking. He turned roughly on Owen : 
 
 1 The other day, when we was talkin' about the cause of 
 poverty, you contradicted everybody. Everyone else was 
 wrong ! But you yourself couldn't tell us what's the cause of 
 poverty, could yer ? ' 
 
 ' I think I could.' 
 
 ' Oh, of course 3 r ou think you know,' sneered Crass ; ' and 
 of course you think your opinion's right and everybody else's 
 is wrong.' 
 
 ' Yes,' replied Owen. 
 
 Several men expressed their abhorrence of this intolerant 
 attitude of Owen's, but the latter rejoined : 
 
 ' Of course I think that my opinions are right and that 
 everyone who differs from me is wrong. If I didn't think their 
 
 119
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 opinions were wrong I wouldn't differ from them. If I didn't 
 think my own opinions right I wouldn't hold them.' 
 
 ' But there's no need to keep on arguin' about it day after 
 day,' said Crass. ' You've got your opinion and I've got mine. 
 Let everyone enjoy his own opinion, I say.' A murmur of 
 approbation from the crowd greeted these sentiments ; but 
 Owen rejoined : 
 
 ' But we can't both be right. If your opinions are right and 
 mine are not, how am I to find out the truth if we never talk 
 about them ? ' 
 
 ' Well, wot do you reckon is the cause of poverty, then ? ' 
 demanded Easton. 
 
 ' The present system competition capitalism.' 
 
 ' It's all very well to talk like that,' snarled Crass, to whom 
 this statement conveyed no meaning whatever. l But 'ow do 
 you make it out ? ' 
 
 ' Well, I put it like that for the sake of shortness,' replied 
 Owen. ' Suppose some people were living in a house ' 
 
 1 More supposin' ! ' sneered Crass. 
 
 'And suppose they were always ill, and suppose that the 
 house was badly built, the walls so constructed that they drew 
 and retained moisture, the roof broken and leaky, the drains 
 defective, the doors and windows ill-fitting, and the rooms 
 badly shaped and draughty. If you were asked to name, in a 
 word, the cause of the ill-health of the people who lived there 
 you would say the house. All the tinkering in the world 
 would not make that house fit to live in, the only thing to do 
 with it would be to pull it down and build another. Well, we're 
 all living in a house called the Money System ; and as a result 
 most of us are suffering from a disease called poverty. There's 
 so much the matter with the present system that it's no good 
 tinkering at it. Everything about it is wrong and there's noth- 
 ing about it that's right. There's only one thing to be done 
 with it and that is to smash it up and have a different system 
 altogether.' 
 
 4 It seems to me that that's just what you're trying to do,' 
 remarked Harlow, sarcastically, 'you seem to be tryin' to get 
 out of answering the question what Easton asked you.' 
 
 1 Yes ! ' cried Crass, fiercely. ' Why don't you answer the 
 bloody question ? Wot's the cause of poverty ? ' 
 
 'What the 'ell's the matter with the present system ? ' de- 
 manded Sawkins. 
 
 120
 
 The Upper and the Nether Millstones 
 
 ' 'Ow's it goin' to be altered ? ' said Newman. 
 
 ' Wot the bloody 'ell sort of a system do you think we ought 
 to 'ave?' shouted the man behind the moat. 
 
 4 It can't never be altered,' said Philpot ; 4 human nature's 
 human nature and you can't get away from it.' 
 
 ' Never mind about human nature/ shouted Crass ; 4 stick to 
 the point. Wot's the cause of poverty ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, damn the cause of poverty ! ' said one of the new hands. 
 4 I've 'ad enough of this bloody row/ and he stood up and pre- 
 pared to go out of the room. 
 
 This individual had two patches on the seat of his trousers 
 and the bottoms of the legs of that garment were frayed and 
 ragged. He had been out of work for about six weeks previous 
 to this job, and during most of that time he and his family had 
 been existing in a condition of semi-starvation on the earnings 
 of his wife as a charwoman and on the scraps of food she 
 brought home from the houses where she worked. But all the 
 same, the question of what is the cause of poverty had no 
 interest for him. 
 
 4 There are many causes,' answered Owen, 4 but they are 
 all part of and inseparable from the system. In order to do 
 away with poverty we must destroy the causes. To do away 
 with the causes we must destroy the whole system/ 
 
 4 What are the causes, then ? ' 
 
 4 Well, money for one thing.' 
 
 This extraordinary assertion was greeted with a roar of 
 merriment, in the midst of which Philpot was heard to say 
 that to listen to Owen was as good as going to a circus. Money 
 the cause of poverty ! 
 
 4 1 always thought it was the want of it ! ' said the man with 
 the patches on the seat of his trousers, as he passed out of 
 the door. 
 
 ' Other things/ continued Owen, 4 are private ownership of 
 land ; private ownership of railways, tramways, gasworks, 
 waterworks, factories, and of the other methods of producing 
 the necessaries and comforts of life ; competition in busi- 
 ness ' 
 
 4 But 'ow do you make it out ? ' demanded Crass impatiently. 
 
 Owen hesitated. To his mind the thing appeared very clear 
 and simple. The causes of poverty were so glaringly evident 
 that he marvelled that any rational being should fail to per- 
 ceive them ; but at the same time he found it very difficult to 
 
 121
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 define them himself. He could not think of words that would 
 convey his thoughts clearly to these others who were so hos- 
 tile and unwilling to understand, and who appeared to have 
 made up their minds to oppose and reject whatever he said. 
 They did not know what were the causes of poverty and 
 apparently they did not want to know. 
 
 Well, I'll try to show you one of the causes,' he said 
 nervously at last. 
 
 He picked up a piece of charred wood that had fallen from 
 the fire and knelt down and began to draw upon the floor. 
 Most of the others regarded him with looks in which an in- 
 dulgent contemptuous kind of interest mingled with an air of 
 superiority and patronage. There was no doubt, they thought, 
 that Owen was a clever sort of chap : his work proved that ; 
 but he was certainly a little bit mad, 
 
 By this time Owen had drawn a circle about two feet in 
 diameter. Inside this he had drawn two squares, one much 
 larger than the other. These two squares he filled in solid 
 black with the charcoal. 
 
 1 Wot's it all about ? ' asked Crass with a sneer. 
 
 1 Why, can't you see ? ' said Philpot, with a wink. ' 'E's goin' 
 to do some conjurin' ! In a minit 'e'll make something pass out 
 'o one 'o them squares into the other and no one won't see 
 'ow it's done.' 
 
 When he had finished drawing, Owen remained for a few 
 minutes awkwardly silent, oppressed by the anticipation of 
 
 122
 
 The Upper and the Nether Millstones 
 
 ridicule and a sense of his inability to put his thoughts into 
 plain language. He began to wish that he had not undertaken 
 this task. At last, with an effort, he began to speak in a halting, 
 nervous way : 
 
 ' This circle or rather, the space inside the circle is sup- 
 posed to represent England.' 
 
 ' Well, I never knowed it was round before,' jeered Crass. 
 ' I've heerd as the world is round ' 
 
 1 1 never said it was the shape I said it was supposed to 
 represent England.' 
 
 1 Oh, I see. I thought we'd very soon begin supposin'.' 
 
 ' The two black squares,' continued Owen, ' represent the 
 people who live in the country. The small square represents 
 a few thousand people. The large square stands for the 
 remainder about forty millions that is, the majority.' 
 
 'We ain't sich bloody fools as to think that the largest 
 number is the minority,' interrupted Crass. 
 
 4 The greater number of the people represented by the large 
 black square work for their living ; and in return for their 
 labour they receive money, some more, some less than others.' 
 
 ' You don't think they'd be sich bloody fools as to work for 
 nothing, do you ? ' said Newman. 
 
 ' I suppose you think they ought all to get the same wages ! ' 
 cried Harlow. ' Do you think it's right that a scavenger should 
 get as much as a painter ? ' 
 
 ' I'm not speaking about that at all, 'replied Owen. ' I'm try- 
 ing to show you what I think is one of the causes of poverty.' 
 
 ' Shut up, can't you, Harlow,' remonstrated Philpot, who 
 began to feel interested. 'We can't all talk at once.' 
 
 ' I know we can't,' replied Harlow in an aggrieved tone, 
 ' but 'e takes sich a 'ell of a time to say wot 'e's got to say. 
 Nobody else can't get a word in hedgcways.' 
 
 1 In order that these people may live,' continued Owen, 
 pointing to the large black square, 'it is first of all necessary 
 that they shall have a place to live in 
 
 ' Well ! I should never a' thought it ! ' exclaimed the man on 
 the pail, pretending to be much impressed. The others 
 laughed, and two or three of them went out of the room, 
 contemptuously remarking to each other in an audible under- 
 tone as they went, 
 
 ' Bloody rot ! ' 
 
 ' Wonder wot the bloody 'ell 'e thinks 'e is ? A sort of 
 schoolmaster ? ' 
 
 123
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 Owen's nervousness increased as he continued : 
 
 ' Now, they can't live in the air or in the sea. These people 
 are land animals, therefore they must live on the land.' 
 
 ' Wot do yer mean by animals ? ' demanded Slyme. 
 
 ' A human bein' ain't a animal ! ' said Crass, indignantly. 
 
 4 Yes we are ! ' cried Harlow, ' go into any chemist's shop 
 you like and ask the bloke, and 'e'll tell you ' 
 
 'Oh, blow that!' interrupted Philpot. 'Let's 'ear wot 
 Owen's sayin'.' 
 
 'They must live on the land, and that's the beginning 
 of the trouble, because, under the present system, the 
 majority of the people have really no right to be in the 
 country at all ! Under the present system the country belongs 
 to a few those who are here represented by this small black 
 square. If it would pay them to do so, and if they felt so 
 disposed, these few people have a perfect right, under the 
 present system, to order everyone else to clear out ! 
 
 ' But they don't do that, they allow the majority to remain 
 in the land on one condition ; that is : they must pay rent to 
 the few for the privilege of being permitted to live in the 
 land of their birth. 
 
 'The amount of rent demanded by those who own this 
 country is so large that, in order to pay it, the greater 
 number of the majority have often to deprive themselves and 
 their children not only of the comforts but even the necessaries 
 of life. In the case of the working classes the rent absorbs, at the 
 lowest possible estimate, about one third of their total earnings, 
 for it must be remembered that the rent is an expense that 
 goes on all the time, whether they are employed or not. If 
 they get into arrears when out of work, they have to pay 
 double when they get employment again. 
 
 ' The majority work hard and live in poverty in order that 
 the minority may live in luxury without working at all, and 
 as the majority are mostly fools, they not only agree to pass 
 their lives in incessant slavery and want, in order to pay 
 this rent to those who own the country, but they say it is 
 quite right that they should have to do so, and are very 
 grateful to the little minority for allowing them to remain in 
 the country at all. 1 
 
 Owen paused, and immediately there arose a great clamour 
 from his listeners. 
 
 'So it is right, ain't it?' shouted Crass, *If you 'ad 
 
 124
 
 The Upper and the Nether Millstones 
 
 a 'ouse and let it to someone, you'd want your rent, wouldn't 
 yer?' 
 
 1 1 suppose,' said Slyme, with resentment, for he had some 
 shares in a local building society, ' after a man's been care- 
 ful, and scraping and saving and going without things he 
 ought to 'ave 'ad all 'is life, and managed to buy a few 
 'ouses to support 'im in his old age, they ought all be took 
 away from 'im ? Some people,' he added, 'ain't got common 
 honesty.' 
 
 Nearly everyone had something to say in reprobation of 
 the views suggested by Owen. Harlow, in a brief but power- 
 ful speech, bristling with numerous sanguinary references to 
 the bottomless pit, protested against any interference with 
 the sacred rights of property. Easton listened with a 
 puzzled expression, and Philpot's goggle eyes rolled horribly 
 as he glared silently at the circle and the two squares. 
 
 ' By far the greater part of the land,' resumed Owen, when 
 the row had ceased, ' is held by people who have absolutely 
 no moral right to it. Possession of much of it was obtained 
 by means of murder and theft perpetrated by the ancestors 
 of the present holders. In other cases, when some king or 
 prince wanted to get rid of a mistress of whom he had 
 grown weary, he presented a tract of our country to some 
 " nobleman " on condition that he would marry her. Vast 
 estates were also bestowed upon the remote ancestors of the 
 present holders in return for real or alleged services. Listen 
 to this,' he continued, as he took a small newspaper cutting 
 from his pocket-book. 
 
 Crass looked at the piece of paper dolefully. It reminded 
 him of the one he had in his own pocket, which he was 
 beginning to fear that he would not have an opportunity of 
 producing to-day after all. 
 
 " BALLCARTRIDGE RENT DAY." 
 
 " The hundredth anniversary of the battle of Ballcartridge 
 occured yesterday and in accordance with custom the Duke 
 of Ballcartridge handed to the authorities the little flag which 
 he annually presents to the State in virtue of his tenure of 
 the vast tract of this country which was presented to one 01 
 his ancestors the first Duke in addition to his salary, for 
 his services at the battle of Ballcartridge. 
 
 "The flag which is the only rent the Duke has to pay for 
 the greatestate which brings him in several hundred thousands 
 
 125
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 of pounds per annum is a small tricoloured one with a staff 
 surmounted by an eagle. 
 
 " The Duke of Blankmind also presents the State with a 
 little coloured silk flag every year in return for being allowed 
 to retain possession of that part of England which was 
 presented in addition to his salary to one of His Grace's 
 very remote ancestors, for his services at the battle of Com- 
 missariat in the Netherlands." 
 
 4 The Duke of Southward is another instance,' continued 
 Owen 'he "owns" miles of the country we speak of as 
 "ours." Much of his part consists of confiscated monastery 
 lands which were stolen from the owners by King Henry 
 VIII and presented to the ancestors of the present Duke. 
 Whether it was right or wrong that these parts of our 
 country should ever have been given to those people is a 
 question we need not trouble ourselves about now. But, the 
 present holders are certainly not deserving people. They do 
 not even take the trouble to pretend that they are. They 
 have done nothing and they do nothing to justify their 
 possession of these "estates," as they call them. And in my 
 opinion no man who is in his right mind can really think it's 
 just that these people should be allowed to prey upon their 
 fellow-men as they are doing now, or that it is right that 
 their children should be allowed to continue to prey upon our 
 children for ever. Just think of the absurdity of it ! ' con- 
 tinued Owen, pointing to the two squares. ' All those people 
 allowing themselves to be overworked and bullied and starved 
 and robbed by this little crowd here ! ' 
 
 Observing signs of a renewal of the storm of protest, Owen 
 hurriedly concluded : 
 
 4 Whether it's right or wrong, you can't deny that the fact 
 that this small minority possesses nearly all the land of the 
 country is one of the principal causes of the poverty of the 
 majority.' 
 
 4 Well, that seems true enough,' said Easton, slowly; 'the 
 rent's the biggest item a workin' man's got to pay. When 
 you're out of work and you can't afford other things you goes 
 without 'em, but the rent 'as to be paid whether you're 
 workin' or not.' 
 
 4 Yes, that's true enough,' said Harlow impatiently, 4 but 
 you gets value for yer money. You can't expect to get a 'ouse 
 for nothing.' 
 
 126
 
 The Upper and the Nether Millstones 
 
 4 Suppose we admits as it's wrong, just for the sake of 
 argyment,' said Crass in a jeering tone ; * wot then ? Wot about 
 it ? 'Ow's it goin' to be altered ? ' 
 
 4 Yes ! ' cried Harlow triumphantly, ' That's the bloody 
 question ! 'Ow's it agoin' to be altered ? It can't be done ! ' 
 
 There was a general murmur of satisfaction. Nearly every- 
 one seemed very pleased to think that the existing state of 
 things could not possibly be altered. 
 
 ' Whether it can be altered or not, whether it's right or 
 wrong, Landlordism is one of the causes of poverty,' Owen 
 repeated. ' Poverty is not caused by men and women getting 
 married ; it's not caused by machinery ; it's not caused by 
 " over-production " ; it's not caused by drink or laziness, and 
 it's not caused by "over-population." It's caused by Private 
 Monopoly. That is the present system. They have mono- 
 polised everything that it is possible to monopolise. They have 
 got the whole earth, the minerals in the earth and the streams 
 that water the earth. If it had been possible to monopolise 
 the air and compress it into huge gasometers, it would have 
 been done long ago, and we should have been compelled to 
 work in order to get money to buy air to breathe. And if that 
 seemingly impossible thing were accomplished to-morrow, 
 you would see thousands of people dying for want of air or 
 of the money to buy it even as now thousands are dying for 
 want of the other necessaries of life. You would see people 
 going about gasping for breath, and telling each other that 
 the likes of them could not expect to have air to breafhe 
 unless they had the money to pay for it. Most of you here, for 
 instance, would think so and say so, even as you think that 
 it's right for a few people to own the Earth, the Minerals and 
 the Water, which are all just as necessary as is the air. In 
 exactly the same spirit as you now say : " It's their land," 
 "It's their water," "It's their coal," "It's their iron," so 
 you would say: "It's their air, these are their gasometers, 
 and what right have the likes of us to expect them to allow 
 us to breathe for nothing ? " 
 
 1 1 suppose you think the landlords ought to let people live 
 in their 'ouses for nothing ? ' said Crass, breaking the silence 
 that followed. 
 
 'Certainly,' remarked Harlow, pretending to be suddenly 
 converted to Owen's views ; ' I reckon the landlord ought to 
 pay the rent to the tenant ! ' 
 
 127
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 'Of course, Landlordism is not the only cause,' said Owen, 
 ignoring these remarks. 'The wonderful system fosters a 
 great many others. Employers of labour, for instance, are at 
 great a cause of poverty as landlords are.' 
 
 This extraordinary statement was received with astonished 
 silence. 
 
 ' Do you mean to say that if I'm out of work and a master 
 gives me a job, that 'e's doin' me a injury? ' said Crass at length. 
 
 ' No, of course not,' replied Owen. 
 
 ' Well, what the bloody 'ell do yer mean, then ? ' 
 
 ' I mean this. Supposing that the owner of a house wishes 
 to have it repainted, what does he usually do ? ' 
 
 ' As a rule 'e goes to three or four master painters and asks 
 'em to give 'im a price for the job.' 
 
 ' Yes ; and those master painters are so eager to get the work, 
 that they cut the price down to what they think is the lowest 
 possible point,' answered Owen, 'and the lowest usually gets 
 the job. The successful tenderer has cut the price so fine that 
 to make it pay he must scamp the work, pay low wages, and 
 drive and sweat the men whom he employs. He wants them 
 to do two days' work for one day's pay. The result is that a 
 job which, if it were done properly, would employ say twenty 
 men for two months, is rushed and scamped in half that time 
 with half that number of men. This means that in one 
 such case as this ten men are deprived of one month's 
 employment ; and ten other men are deprived of two months' 
 employment ; and all because the employers have been 
 cutting each other's throats to get the work.' Owen paused 
 and there was an uncomfortable silence. 
 
 'And we can't 'elp ourselves, you nor me either,' said 
 Harlow. ' Supposing one of us on this job was to make up 'is 
 mind not to tear into it like we do, but just keep on steady 
 and do a fair day's work, wot would 'appin ? ' 
 
 No one answered ; but the same thought was in everyone's 
 mind. Such an one would be quickly marked by Hunter, and 
 even if the latter failed to notice him it would not be long 
 before Crass reported his conduct. 
 
 'We can't 'elp ourselves,' said Easton, gloomily. ' If one 
 man won't do it there's twenty others ready to take 'is place.' 
 
 ' We could help ourselves to a certain extent if we would 
 stand by each other ; if, for instance, we all belonged to the 
 society,' said Owen. 
 
 128
 
 The Upper and the Nether Millstones 
 
 4 1 don't believe .in the society,' observed Crass. ' I can't see 
 as it's right that a inferior man should 'ave the same wages 
 as me.' 
 
 'They're a drunken lot of beer swillers,' remarked Sly me. 
 ' That's why they always 'as their meetings in public 'ouses.' 
 
 Harlow made no comment on this question. He had at one 
 time belonged to the union, and he was rather ashamed of 
 having fallen away from it. 
 
 'Wot good 'as the society ever done 'ere ? ' said Easton. 
 ' None that I ever 'card of.' 
 
 ' It might be able to do some good if most of us belonged 
 to it ; but after all, that's another matter. . . . Whether we 
 could help ourselves or not, the fact remains that we don't. 
 But you must admit that this competition of the employers is 
 one of the causes of unemployment and poverty, because it's 
 not only in our line exactly the same thing happens in every 
 other trade and industry. Competing employers are the upper 
 and nether millstones which grind the workers between them." 
 
 ' I suppose you think there oughtn't to be no employers at 
 all ? ' sneered Crass. 'Or p'raps you think the masters ought 
 to do all the bloody work theirselves, and give us the 
 money ? ' 
 
 ' I don't see 'ow it's goin' to be altered,' remarked Harlow. 
 1 There must be masters, and someone 'as to take charge of the 
 work and do the thinkinV 
 
 ' Whether it can be altered or not,' said Owen, ' Landlord- 
 ism and Competing Employers are two of the causes of 
 poverty. But of course they're only a small part of the system 
 which produces luxury, refinement and culture for a few, and 
 condemns the majority to a lifelong struggle with adversity, 
 and many thousands to degradation, hunger and rags. This 
 is the system you all uphold and defend, although you don't 
 mind admitting that it has made the world into a hell.' 
 
 Crass slowly drew the ' Obscurer ' cutting from his waist- 
 coat pocket, but after a moment's thought he replaced it, de- 
 ciding to defer its production till a more suitable occasion. 
 
 ' But you 'aven't told us yet 'ow you makes out that money 
 causes poverty,' cried Harlow, winking at the others ; 'that's 
 what fm anxious to 'ear about.' 
 
 ' So am I,' remarked the man behind the moat. ' I was just 
 wondering whether I 'adn't better tell ole Misery that I don't 
 want no wages this week.' 
 
 i 129
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 ' I think I'll tell 'im on Saturday to keep my money and get 
 'imself a few drinks with it,' said Philpot. ' It might cheer 'im 
 up a bit and make 'im a little more sociable and friendly like.' 
 
 'Money is the principal cause of poverty,' said Owen. 
 
 ' 'Ow do yer make it out ? ' cried Sawkins. 
 
 But their curiosity had to remain unsatisfied for the time, 
 because at that moment Crass announced that it was 'just 
 on it.' 
 
 130
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 THE THOROUGH MAN 
 
 ABOUT three o'clock that afternoon Rushton himself suddenly 
 appeared and began walking silently about the house, and 
 listening outside the doors of rooms where the hands were 
 working. He did not succeed in catching anyone idling or 
 smoking or talking. The nearest approach to what the men 
 called ' a capture ' that he made was, when he stood outside the 
 door of one of the upper rooms in which Philpot and Harlow 
 were working, and heard them singing one of Sankey's hymns 
 'Work! for the night is coming.' He listened to two verses 
 and several repetitions of the chorus. Being a ' Christian ' he 
 could scarcely object to this, especially as by peeping through 
 the partly open door he could see that they were suiting the 
 action to the word. When he went into the room they glanced 
 round to see who it was, and stopped singing. Rushton did 
 not speak, but stood in the middle of the floor, silently watch- 
 ing them as they worked, for about a quarter of an hour. Then 
 without having uttered a syllable he turned and continued his 
 investigations. 
 
 None of the men looked round from their work or spoke. 
 The only sounds heard were the noises made by the saws and 
 hammers of the carpenters who were fixing the frieze rails and 
 dado rails or repairing parts of the woodwork. 
 
 Crass placed himself in Rushton's way several times, but 
 beyond curtly acknowledging the foreman's servile 'Good 
 hafternoon, sir,' the master took no notice of him. 
 
 After about an hour spent in this manner Rushton went, 
 but as no one saw him go, his departure was not discovered 
 for some considerable time. 
 
 Owen was secretly very disappointed. ' I thought he had 
 come to tell me about the drawing-room,' he said to himself, 
 'but I suppose it's not decided yet.' 
 
 Just as the ' hands ' were beginning to breathe freely again,
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 Misery arrived, carrying some rolled-up papers in his hand. 
 He also flitted silently from one room to another, peering 
 round corners and listening at doors in the hope of finding an 
 excuse to make an example of someone. Disappointed in this, 
 he presently crawled upstairs to the room where Owen was 
 working and handing to him the roll of papers said : 
 
 ' Mr Sweater has decided to 'ave this work done, so you 
 can start on it as soon as you like.' 
 
 It is impossible to describe without appearing to exagger- 
 ate the emotions experienced by Owen as he heard this an- 
 nouncement. For one thing it meant that the work at this house 
 would last longer than it would otherwise have done ; and it 
 also meant that he would be paid for the extra time he had 
 spent on the drawings, besides having his wages increased 
 for he was always paid an extra penny per hour when engaged 
 on special work. But these considerations did not occur to 
 him at the moment at all, for to him it meant much more. Since 
 his first conversation on the subject with Rushton he had 
 thought of little else than this work of decorating the draw- 
 ing-room- 
 
 In a sense he had been doing it ever since, repeatedly plan- 
 ning and altering the details and selecting and rejecting the 
 colours for the different parts over and over again. A keen 
 desire to carry it through had grown within him, but he had 
 scarcely allowed himself to hope. His face flushed slightly as 
 he took the drawings from Hunter. 
 
 ' You can make a start on it to-morrow morning,' continued 
 that gentleman. ' I'll tell Crass to send someone else up 'ere to 
 finish this room.' 
 
 ' I shan't be able to start to-morrow, because the ceiling and 
 walls will have to be painted first.' 
 
 ' Yes, I know. You and Easton can do that. One coat to- 
 morrow, another on Friday and the third on Saturday that 
 is, unless you can make it do with two coats. Even if it has to 
 have the three, you will be able to go on with your decoration 
 on Monday.' 
 
 ' I won't be able to start it on Monday because I shall have 
 to make some working drawings first.' 
 
 'Workin' drorins ! ' ejaculated Misery with a puzzled ex- 
 pression. ' Wot workin' drorins ? You've got them, ain't yer ? ' 
 pointing to the roll of paper. 
 
 ' Yes ; but as the same ornaments are repeated several 
 
 132
 
 The Thorough Man 
 
 times, I shall have to make a number of full sized drawings, 
 with perforated outlines, to transfer the design to the walls,' 
 said Owen, and he proceeded to explain laboriously the pro- 
 cesses. 
 
 Nimrod looked at him suspiciously. ' Is all that really 
 necessary ? ' he asked. ' Couldn't you just copy it on the wall, 
 freehand ? ' 
 
 1 No, that wouldn't do. It would take much longer that way.' 
 
 This consideration appealed to Misery. 
 
 'Ah, well,' he sighed, ' I s'pose you'll 'ave to do it the way 
 3 r ou said ; but for Gord's sake don't spend too much time over 
 it, because we've took it very cheap. We only took it on so as 
 you could 'ave a job, not that we expect to make any profit 
 out of it.' 
 
 'And I shall have to cut some stencils, so I shall need 
 several sheets of cartridge paper.' 
 
 Upon hearing of this additional expense Misery's long vis- 
 age appeared to become several inches longer ; but after a 
 moment's thought he brightened up. 
 
 1 I'll tell you what ! ' he exclaimed, with a cunning leer. 
 ' There's lots of odd rolls of old wallpaper down at the shop, 
 couldn't you manage with some of that ? ' 
 
 'I'm afraid it wouldn't do,' replied Owen, doubtfully, 'but 
 I'll have a look at it, and if possible I'll use it.' 
 
 ' Yes, do ! ' said Misery, pleased at the thought of saving 
 something. ' Call at the shop on your way home to-night, and 
 we'll see what we can find. 'Ow long do you think it'll take 
 you to make the drorins and the stencils ? ' 
 
 ' Well, to-day's Thursday. If you let someone else help 
 Easton prepare the room, I think I can get them done in time 
 to bring them with me on Monday morning.' 
 
 ' Wot do yer mean : " bring them with you " ? ' demanded 
 Nimrod. 
 
 ' I shall have to do them at home, you know.' 
 
 ' Do 'em at 'ome ! Why can't you do 'em 'ere ? ' 
 
 ' Well, there's no table, for one thing.' 
 
 ' Oh, but we can soon fit you out with a table. You can 'ave 
 a pair of paperhanger's trestles and boards, for that matter.' 
 
 ' I have a lot of sketches and things at home that I couldn't 
 very well bring here,' said Owen. 
 
 Misery argued about it for a long time, insisting that the 
 drawings should !be made either on the 'job' or at the paint 
 
 133
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 shop down at the yard. How, he asked, was he to know at 
 what hour Owen commenced or left off working, if the latter 
 did them at home ? 
 
 4 1 shan't charge any more time than I really work,' replied 
 Owen. ' I can't possibly do them here or at the paint shop. I 
 know I should only make a mess of them under such condi- 
 tions.' 
 
 'Well, I s'pose you'll 'ave to 'ave your own way,' said 
 Misery, dolefully. ' I'll let Harlow help Easton paint the room 
 out so as you can get your stencils and things ready. But for 
 Gord's sake get 'em done as quick as you can. If you could 
 manage to get done by Friday and come down and help Easton 
 on Saturday, it would be so much the better. And when you do 
 get a start on the decoration, I shouldn't take too much care 
 over it, you know, if I was you, because we 'ad to take the job 
 for next to nothing or Mr Sweater would never 'ave 'ad it 
 done at all ! ' 
 
 So saying, Nimrod began to crawl about the house, snarling 
 and grumbling at everyone. 
 
 1 Now then, you chaps, Rouse yourselves ! ' he bellowed, 
 ' you seem to think this is a 'orspital. If some of you don't 
 make a better show than this, I'll 'ave to 'ave a Alteration ! 
 There's plenty of chaps walkin' about who'll be only too glad 
 of a job ! ' 
 
 He went into the scullery where Crass was mixing some 
 colour. 
 
 4 Look 'ere, Crass ! ' he said, 4 I'm not at all satisfied with 
 the way you're gettin' on with the work. You must push the 
 chaps a bit more than you're doin'. There's not enough being 
 done, by a long way. We shall lose money over this job before 
 we're finished ! ' 
 
 Crass, whose fat face had turned a ghastly green with fright, 
 mumbled something about getting on with it as fast as he 
 could. 
 
 1 Well, you'll 'ave to make 'em move a bit quicker than this,' 
 Misery howled, 4 or there'll 'ave to be a Alteration ! ' 
 
 By an 'alteration ' Crass understood that he might get the 
 sack, or that someone else might be put in charge of the job, 
 and that would of course reduce him to the ranks and do away 
 with his chance of being kept on longer than the others. He 
 determined to try to ingratiate himself with Hunter and to 
 appease his wrath by sacrificing someone else. He glanced 
 
 134
 
 The Thorough Man 
 
 cautiously into the kitchen and up the passage and then, 
 lowering his voice he said : 
 
 ' They all shapes pretty well, except Newman. I would 'ave 
 told you about 'im before, but I thought I'd give 'im a fair 
 chance. I've spoke to 'im several times myself about not doin' 
 enough, but it don't seem to make no difference.' 
 
 ' I've 'ad me eye on 'im meself, for some time,' replied Nim- 
 rod, in the same tone. 'Anybody would think the work was 
 goin' to be sent to a Exhibition, the way 'e messes about with 
 it, rubbing it with glasspaper and stopping up every little 
 crack ! I can't understand where 'e gets all the glasspaper 
 from ! ' 
 
 "E brings it 'isself!' said Crass, hoarsely. ' I know for a 
 fact that 'e bought two 'apenny sheets of it, last week, out 
 of 'is own money ! ' 
 
 'Oh, 'e did, did 'e? ' snarled Misery. Til give 'im glass- 
 paper ! I'll 'ave a Alteration ! ' 
 
 He went into the hall, where he - remained alone for a con- 
 siderable time, brooding. At last, with the manner of one who 
 has resolved on a certain course of action, he turned and 
 entered the room where Philpot and Harlow were working. 
 
 ' You both get sevenpence an hour, don't you ? ' he said. 
 
 They both replied in the affirmative. 
 
 ' I've never worked under price yet,' added Harlow. 
 
 ' Nor me, neither/ observed Philpot. 
 
 'Well, of course you can please yourselves,' Hunter con- 
 tinued, ' but after this week we've decided not to pay more 
 than six and a half. Things is cut so fine nowadays, that we 
 can't afford to go on payin' sevenpence any longer. You can 
 work up till to-morrow night on the old terms, but if you're 
 not willin' to accept six and a half you needn't come on 
 Saturday morning. Please yourselves. Take it or leave it.' 
 
 Harlow and Philpot were both too much astonished to say 
 anything in reply to this cheerful announcement, and Hunter, 
 with the final remark, 'You can think it over,' left them and 
 went to deliver the same ultimatum to all the other full price 
 men, who took it in the same way as Philpot and Harlow had 
 done. Crass and Owen were the only two whose wages were 
 not reduced. 
 
 It will be remembered that Newman was one of those who 
 were already working for the reduced rate. Misery found him 
 alone in one of the upper rooms, to which he was giving the 
 
 135
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 final coat. He was at his old tricks. The woodwork of the 
 cupboard he was doing was in a rather damaged condition, 
 and he was facing up the dents with white lead putty before 
 painting it. He knew quite well that Hunter objected to any 
 but very large holes or cracks being stopped, and yet somehow 
 or other he could not scamp the work to the extent that he 
 was ordered to ; and so, almost by stealth, he was in the habit 
 of doing it not properly but as well as he dared. He even 
 went to the length of occasionally buying a few sheets of glass- 
 paper with his own money, as Crass had told Hunter. When 
 the latter came into the room he stood with a sneer on his 
 face, watching Newman for about five minutes before he spoke. 
 
 4 You can make out yer time sheet and come to the office for 
 yer money at five o'clock,' said Nimrod at last, 'we shan't 
 require your valuable services no more after to-night.' 
 
 Newman went white. 
 
 ' Why, what's wrong ? ' said he. ' What have I done ? ' 
 
 'Oh, it's not wot you've done, 1 replied Misery, 'it's wot 
 you've not done. That's wot's wrong ! You've not done enough, 
 that's all ! ' And without further parley, he turned and went 
 out. 
 
 Newman stood in the darkening room feeling as if his 
 heart had turned to lead. There rose before his mind the 
 picture of his home and family. He could see them as they 
 were at this very moment, the wife probably just beginning 
 to prepare the evening meal and the children setting the 
 cups and saucers and other things on the kitchen table a 
 noisy work, enlivened with many a frolic and childish dispute. 
 Even the two year old baby insisted on helping and they had 
 all been so happy lately because they knew that he had work 
 that would last till nearly Christmas, if not longer. And now 
 this had happened, to plunge them back into that abyss of 
 wretchedness from which they had so recently escaped. 
 They still owed several weeks' rent, and were already so much 
 in debt to the baker and the grocer that it was hopeless to 
 expect any further credit. 
 
 ' My God ! ' said Newman, realising the almost utter hope- 
 lessness of the chance of obtaining another 'job,' and 
 unconciously speaking aloud. ' My God ! how can I tell them? 
 What will become of us ? ' 
 
 When the men realised that Hunter had gone, they began 
 
 136
 
 The Thorough Man 
 
 to gather into little groups, and soon nearly all found them- 
 selves in the kitchen, discussing the reduction in wages. 
 Sawkins and the other ' lightweights ' remained at their 
 work. Some of them got only fourpence half-penny, Sawkins 
 was paid fivepence, so none of these were affected by the 
 change. The other two fresh hands the journeymen joined 
 the crowd in the kitchen, being anxious to conceal the fact 
 that they had agreed to accept the reduced rate before being 
 1 taken on.' Owen also was there, having heard the news 
 from Philpot. 
 
 There was a lot of furious talk. At first several of them 
 spoke of ' chucking up ' at once ; but others were more 
 prudent, for they knew that if they left there were dozens 
 of others who would be eager to take their places. 
 
 'After all, you know,' said Sly me, who had an idea of 
 presently starting business on his own account, and was 
 only waiting until he had saved enough money. 'After all, 
 there's something in what 'Unter says. It's very 'ard to get 
 a fair price for work now-a-days. Things is cut very fine.' 
 
 ' Yes ! We knows all about that ! ' shouted Harlow. ' And 
 who the bloody 'ell is it cuts 'em ? Why, sich swines as 
 'Unter and Rushton ! If this firm 'adn't cut this job so fine, 
 some other firm would 'ave 'ad it for more money. Rushton's 
 cuttin' it fine didn't make this job, did it ? It would 'ave been 
 done just the same if they 'adn't tendered for it at all ! The 
 only difference is that we should 'ave been workin' for some 
 other master.' 
 
 ' 1 don't believe the bloody job's cut fine at all ! ' said 
 Philpot. ' Rushton is a pal of Sweater's, and they're both 
 members of the Town Council.' 
 
 'That may be,' replied Slyme, ' but all the same I believe 
 Sweater got several other prices besides Rushton's, friend 
 or no friend, and you can't blame 'im it's only business. 
 But pr'aps Rushton got the preference Sweater may 'ave 
 told 'im the others' prices.' 
 
 ' Yes, and a bloody fine lot of prices they was, too, if the 
 truth was known ! ' said Bundy. 'There was six other firms 
 after this job to my knowledge, and Gord only knows 'ow 
 many more.' 
 
 At this moment Newman came into the room. He looked 
 so white and upset that the others involuntarily paused in 
 their conversation. 
 
 137
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 ' Well, what do you think of it ? ' asked Harlow. 
 
 1 Think of what ? ' said Newman. 
 
 'Why, didn't 'Unter tell you ? ' cried several voices, whose 
 owners looked suspiciously at him. They thought if Hunter 
 had not spoken to Newman, it must be because he was 
 already working under price. There had been a rumour 
 going about the last few days to that effect. ' Didn't Misery 
 tell you ? They're not goin' to pay no more than six and a half 
 after this week.' 
 
 1 That's not what 'e said to me. 'E just told me to knock off. 
 Said I didn't do enough for 'em.' 
 
 'Jesus Christ!' exclaimed Crass, pretending to be over- 
 come with surprise. 
 
 Newman's account of what had transpired was listened to 
 in gloomy silence. Those who, a few minutes previously, 
 had been talking loudly of chucking up the job, became filled 
 with apprehension that they might be served in the same 
 manner. Crass was one of the loudest in his expressions of 
 astonishment and indignation, but he rather overdid it and 
 only succeeded in confirming the secret suspicions of the 
 others that he had had something to do with Hunter's action. 
 
 The result of the discussion was that they decided to 
 submit to Misery's terms for the time being, until they could 
 see a chance of getting work elsewhere. 
 
 As Owen had to go to the office to see the wall-paper 
 which Hunter had mentioned, he accompanied Newman 
 when the latter went to get his wages. Nimrod was waiting 
 for them, and had the money ready in an envelope, which he 
 handed to Newman, who took it without speaking and went 
 away. 
 
 Misery had been rummaging amongst the old wall-papers 
 and had got out a great heap of odd rolls, which he now 
 submitted to Owen, but after examining them the latter said 
 that they were unsuitable for the purpose ; so after some 
 argument Misery was compelled to sign an order for some 
 proper cartridge paper which Owen obtained at a stationer's 
 on his way home. 
 
 -38
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 SUNDAY SCHOOL 
 
 CHARLIE and Elsie Linden had not forgotten the little black 
 kitten, and had called at the Owens' flat more than once to 
 renew their acquaintance with it. On one of these occasions 
 Charlie described the delights of his Sunday School, which 
 was connected with the Shining Light Chapel, with so much 
 enthusiasm that Frankie Owen obtained his mother's per- 
 mission to accompany his friend the following Sunday. 
 Dressed in his best a suit made out of one of his mother's 
 dresses with his long curls carefully brushed, a most 
 unnecessary process from Frankie's point of view, he waited 
 impatiently for Charlie to call for him, and both boys started 
 off in high feather. 
 
 The school was not conducted in the chapel itself but in a 
 large lecture hall under it. At one end was a small platform 
 raised about six inches from the floor ; on this were a chair 
 and a small table. A number of groups of chairs and benches 
 were arranged at intervals round the sides and in the 
 centre of the room, -each group accommodating a separate 
 class. On the walls, which were painted a pale green, were 
 a number of coloured pictures Moses striking the Rock, the 
 Israelites dancing round the Golden Calf, and so on. 
 
 Frankie had never been to a Sunday School of any 
 kind before, and he stood for a moment looking in at the 
 door and half afraid to enter. The lessons had already com- 
 menced, but the scholars had hardly settled down to work. 
 
 The scene was one of some disorder, some of the children 
 talking, laughing, or playing, and the teachers alternately 
 threatening and coaxing them. The girls' and the very young 
 children's classes were presided over by ladies ; the boys' 
 teachers were men, including Mr Rushton and Mr Hunter 
 and Mr Didlum, the furniture dealer. On this occasion, in 
 addition to the teachers and other officials of the Sunday 
 
 139
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 School there were also present a considerable number of 
 prettily dressed ladies and a few gentlemen, who had come in 
 the hope of meeting the Rev. John Starr, the young minister 
 who was acting as temporary pastor in place of Mr Belcher, 
 their regular shepherd, who was going away for a holiday for 
 the benefit of his health. Mr Belcher was not suffering from 
 any particular malady, but was merely 'run down,' and 
 rumour had it that this condition had been brought about by 
 the rigorous asceticism of his life and intense devotion to the 
 arduous labours of his holy calling. 
 
 Mr Starr had conducted the service in the Shining Light 
 Chapel that morning, and a great sensation had been pro- 
 duced by his earnest and eloquent address, which was of a 
 very different style from that of their regular minister. 
 Although perhaps they had not quite grasped the real signi- 
 ficance of all that he had said, most of them had been favour- 
 ably impressed by the young pastor's appearance and manner. 
 There were, however, one or two members of the congrega- 
 tion who were not without some misgivings and doubts as to 
 the soundness of his doctrines. 
 
 Mr Starr had promised that he would look in some time 
 during the afternoon to say a few words to the Sunday School 
 children, and consequently on this particular afternoon all the 
 grown-ups were looking forward so eagerly to his arrival that 
 not much was done in the way of lessons, and every time a 
 late-comer entered all eyes were directed towards the door. 
 
 When Frankie, standing, saw all these people looking at 
 him, he drew back timidly. 
 
 'Come on, man,' said Charlie ; 'you needn't be afraid ; it's 
 not like a week day school ; they can't do nothing to us, not 
 even if we don't behave ourselves. There's our class over in 
 that corner, and that's our teacher, Mr Hunter. You can sit 
 next to me. Come on ! ' 
 
 Thus encouraged, Frankie followed Charlie over to the 
 class, and both sat down. The teacher was so kind and spoke 
 so gently to the children that in a few minutes Frankie felt 
 quite at home, though he was too much interested in the 
 pictures on the walls and in looking at the other children to 
 pay much attention to the lesson. He also noticed a very fat 
 man, who was not teaching at all, but drifted aimlessly about 
 the room from one class to another. After a time he came and 
 stood by the class where Frankie was, and, after nodding to 
 
 140
 
 Sunday School 
 
 Hunter, remained near, listening and smiling patronisingly 
 at the children. He was arrayed in a long garment of costly 
 black cloth, a sort of frock coat, and by the rotundity of 
 his figure be seemed to be one of those accustomed to sit in 
 the chief places at feasts. This was the Rev. Mr Belcher, 
 minister of the Shining Light Chapel. His short thick neck 
 was surrounded by a collar, apparently studless and button- 
 less, being fastened in some mysterious way known only to 
 himself, and he showed no shirt front. He was exceedingly 
 fat ; in fact his figure was almost like a balloon in its 
 rotundity, the large feet, encased in soft calf-skin boots, 
 representing the car. 
 
 After exchanging a few words with Hunter, he moved on 
 to another class and presently, with a feeling of awe, Frankie 
 noticed, that the sounds of whispering and giggling that had 
 hitherto pervaded the place were suddenly hushed. The time 
 allotted for lessons had expired, and the teachers were quietly 
 distributing hymn books to the children. 
 
 Meantime the balloon had drifted up to the end of the hall 
 and ascended the platform, where it remained stationary by 
 the side of the table, on which were several books and a pile 
 of folded cards. These latter were about six inches by three ; 
 there was some printing on the cover, and ruled lines and 
 money columns on the inside. 
 
 Presently Mr Belcher reached out a flabby white hand and 
 taking up one of the folded cards he looked around upon the 
 underfed, ill-clad children with a large, sweet, benevolent, 
 fatherly smile, and then in a drawling voice, he said : 
 
 ' My deah children, this afternoon as I was standing near 
 Brother Hunter's class I heard him telling them of the 
 wanderings of the children of Israel in the wilderness, and of 
 all the wonderful things that were done for them ; and I 
 thought how sad it was that they were so ungrateful. 
 
 4 Now those ungrateful Israelites had received many things, 
 but we have even more cause to be grateful than they, for we 
 have received even more abundantly, and I am sure that none 
 of you would like to be even as those Israelites, ungrateful 
 for all the good things you have received. Oh, how thankful 
 you should be for having been made happy English children. 
 Now, I am sure that you are grateful and that you will all 
 be very glad of an opportunity of showing your gratitude by 
 doing something in return. 
 
 141
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 ' Doubtless some of you have noticed the unseemly con- 
 dition of the interior of our chapel. The flooring is broken in 
 countless places ; the walls are sadly in need of cleansing 
 and distempering, and they also need cementing externally to 
 keep out the draught. The seats and benches and the chairs 
 are also in a most unseemly condition and need varnish- 
 ing. 
 
 Now, therefore, after much earnest meditation and prayer, 
 it has been decided to open a Subscription List, and although 
 times are very hard just now, we believe we shall succeed in 
 getting enough to have the work done. So I want each 
 of you to take one of these cards and go round to all your 
 friends to see how much you can collect. It doesn't matter 
 how trifling the amounts are, because the smallest donations 
 will be thankfully received. 
 
 4 Now I hope you will all do your very best. Ask everyone 
 you know ; do not refrain from asking people because you 
 think that they are too poor to give a donation, but remind 
 them that if they cannot give their thousands they can give 
 the widow's mite. Ask everyone ! First of all ask those who 
 you will feel certain will give ; then ask all those who you 
 think may possibly give ; and, finally, ask all those who you 
 feel certain will not give ; and you will be surprised to find that 
 many of these last will donate abundantly. 
 
 4 If your friends are very poor and unable to give a large 
 donation at one time, a good plan would be to arrange to call 
 upon them every Saturday afternoon with your card to collect 
 their donations. And while you are asking others, do not for- 
 get to give what you can yourselves. Just a little self denial, 
 and those pennies and halfpennies which you so often spend 
 on sweets and other unnecessary things, might be given as 
 a donation to the good cause. 
 
 4 All those who wish to collect donations will stay behind 
 for a few minutes after school, when Brother Hunter, who 
 has kindly consented to act as secretary to the fund, will 
 issue the cards. 
 
 4 1 would like here to say a few words of thanks to Brother 
 Hunter for the great interest he has displayed in this matter, 
 and for all the trouble he is taking to help us to gather in the 
 donations.' 
 
 This tribute was well deserved. Hunter in fact had origin- 
 ated the whole scheme in the hope of securing the job for 
 
 142
 
 Sunday School 
 
 Rushton and Company, and two and a half per cent, of the 
 profits for himself. 
 
 Mr Belcher now replaced the collecting card on the table, 
 and taking up one of the hymn books, gave out the words and 
 afterwards conducted the singing, flourishing one fat hand in 
 the air and holding the book in the other. 
 
 As the last strains of the music died away, he closed his 
 eyes and a sweet smile widened his mouth, as he stretched 
 forth his right hand, open, palm down, with the fingers close 
 together, and said : 
 
 ' Let us pray.' 
 
 With much shuffling of feet everyone knelt down. Hunter's 
 lanky form was distributed over a very large area ; his body 
 lay along one of the benches, his legs and feet sprawled over 
 the floor, and his huge hands clasped the sides of the seat. 
 His eyes were tightly closed and there was an expression of 
 the most intense misery in his long face. 
 
 Mrs Starvem, Ruth Easton's former mistress, was so fat 
 that she knew if she once knelt down she would never be able 
 to get up again, so compromised by sitting on the extreme 
 edge of her chair, resting her elbows on the back of the seat 
 in front of her, and burying her face in her hands. It was a 
 very large face, but her hands were capacious enough to 
 receive it. 
 
 In a seat at the back of the hall knelt a pale faced, weary 
 looking little woman about thirty-six years of age, very 
 shabbily dressed, who had come in during the singing. This 
 was Mrs White, the caretaker, Bert White's mother. When 
 her husband died, the Committee of the Chapel, out of charity, 
 gave her this work, for which they paid her six shillings a 
 week. Of course they could not offer her full employment ; the 
 idea was that she could get other work as well, charing and 
 things of that kind, and do the Chapel work in between. There 
 wasn't much to do : just the heating furnace to light when 
 necessary ; the Chapel, committee rooms, classrooms and 
 Sunday School to sweep and scrub out occasionally ; the 
 hymn books to collect, etc. Whenever they had a tea meeting 
 which was, on an average, about twice a week there were 
 the trestle tables to fix up, the chairs to arrange, the table to 
 set out, and then, supervised by Miss Didlum or some other 
 lady, the tea to make. There was rather a lot to do on the 
 days following these functions : the washing up ; the tables 
 
 143
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 and chairs to put away, the floor to sweep, and so on ; but the 
 extra work was supposed to be compensated by the cakes and 
 broken victuals generally left over from the feast, which were 
 much appreciated as a welcome change from the bread and 
 dripping or margarine that constituted Mrs White's and Bert's 
 usual fare. 
 
 There were several advantages attached to the position ; the 
 caretaker became acquainted with the leading members and 
 their wives, some of whom, out of charity, occasionally gave 
 her a day's work as charwoman, the wages being on about 
 the same generous scale as those she earned at the chapel, 
 occasionally supplemented by a parcel of broken victuals or 
 some cast-off clothing. The possibility that her employers took 
 advantage of her poverty to impose upon her conditions of 
 price and labour which a woman in a more independent posi- 
 tion would not have endured, never occurred to Mrs White. 
 On the contrar}' her heart was filled with gratitude towards 
 her generous benefactors. 
 
 During the prayer the door was softly opened and a gentle- 
 man in clerical dress entered on tip toe and knelt down next to 
 Mr Didlum. He came in very softly but all the same most of 
 those present heard him and lifted their heads or peeped 
 through their fingers to see who it was, and when they recog- 
 nised him a sound like a sigh swept through the hall. 
 
 At the end of the prayer, amid groans and cries of 'Amen,' 
 the balloon slowly descended from the platform and collapsed 
 into one of the seats, and everyone rose up from the floor. 
 When all were seated and the shuffling, coughing, and blow- 
 ing of noses had ceased, Mr Didlum stood up and said : 
 
 1 Before we sing the closin' 'ymn, the gentleman hon my 
 left, the Rev. Mr John Starr, will say a few words.' 
 
 An expectant murmur rippled through the hall. The ladies 
 lifted their eyebrows and nodded, smiled and whispered to 
 each other ; the gentlemen assumed various attitudes and 
 expressions ; and the children were very quiet. Everyone 
 was in a state of suppressed excitement as John Starr rose 
 from his seat and stepping up on to the platform, stood by 
 the side of the table, facing them. 
 
 He was about twenty-six years of age, tall and slenderly 
 built. His clean cut, intellectual face, with its lofty forehead 
 and air of refinement and culture, were in striking contrast 
 to the coarse appearance of the other adults in the room. 
 
 144
 
 Sunday School 
 
 But it was not merely his air of good breeding and the 
 general comeliness of his exterior that pleased and at- 
 tracted. There was an indefinable something about him, an 
 atmosphere of gentleness and love that seemed to radiate 
 from his whole being, almost compelling confidence and 
 affection from those with whom he came in contact. 
 
 As he stood there facing the others with an inexpressibly 
 winning smile upon his face, it seemed impossible that there 
 could be any fellowship between him and them. 
 
 He did not give a very long address this afternoon, only 
 just a few words ; but they were very precious, original and 
 illuminating. He told them of certain thoughts that had 
 occured to his mind on the way there that afternoon ; and as 
 they listened, Sweater, Rush ton, Didlum, Hunter, and the 
 other disciples exchanged significant looks and gestures. Was 
 it not magnificent ! Such power ! Such reasoning ! In fact, as 
 they afterwards modestly admitted to each other, it was so 
 profound that even they experienced great difficulty in 
 fathoming the speaker's meaning. 
 
 As for the ladies, they were motionless and dumb with 
 admiration. They sat with flushed faces, shining eyes and 
 palpitating hearts, looking hungrily at the dear man as he 
 proceeded : 
 
 ' Unfortunately our time this afternoon does not permit us 
 to dwell at length upon these Thoughts. Perhaps at some 
 future date we may have the blessed privilege of so doing. 
 But this afternoon I have been asked to say a few words 
 on another subject. The failing health of your dear minister 
 has for some time past engaged the anxious attention of the 
 congregation.' 
 
 Sympathetic glances were directed towards the interesting 
 invalid ; the ladies murmured ' Poor dear ! ' and other expres- 
 sions of anxious concern. 
 
 'Although naturally robust,' continued Starr, 'long con- 
 tinued overwork, the loving solicitude for others that often 
 prevented him taking even necessary repose, and a too 
 vigorous devotion to the practice of self denial, have at last 
 brought about the inevitable breakdown, and rendered a 
 period of rest absolutely imperative.' 
 
 ' With this laudable object,' proceeded Starr, ' a Subscrip- 
 tion List was quietly opened about a month ago, and those 
 dear children who had cards and assisted in the good work 
 
 K 145
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 of collecting donations will be pleased to hear that altogether 
 a goodly sum was gathered, but as it was not quite enough, 
 the committee voted a further amount out of the General 
 Fund, and at a special meeting held last Friday evening, 
 your dear Shepherd was presented with an illuminated 
 address and a purse of gold sufficient to defray the expenses 
 of a month's holiday in the south of France. 
 
 'Although, of course, he regrets being separated from you 
 even for such a brief period, he feels that in going he is 
 choosing the lesser of two evils. It is better to go to the south 
 of France for a month than to continue working in spite of 
 the warnings of exhausted nature and to be taken away from 
 you, perhaps altogether to Heaven.' 
 
 1 God forbid ! ' fervently ejaculated several disciples, and a 
 ghastly pallor overspread the features of the object of their 
 prayers. 
 
 1 Even as it is there is a certain amount of danger. Let us 
 hope and pray for the best, but if the worst should happen, 
 and he is called upon to Ascend, there will be some satisfac- 
 tion in knowing that you have done what you could to avert 
 the dreadful calamity. 
 
 ' He sets out on his pilgrimage to-morrow,' concluded 
 Starr, ' and I am sure he will be followed by the good wishes 
 and prayers of all the members of his flock.' 
 
 The reverend gentleman resumed his seat, and almost 
 immediately it became evident from the oscillations of the 
 balloon that Mr Belcher was desirous of rising to say a few 
 words in acknowledgement, but he was restrained by the 
 entreaties of those near him, who besought him not to exhaust 
 himself. He afterwards said that he would not have been able 
 to say much even if they had permitted him to speak, because 
 he felt too full. 
 
 'During the absence of our beloved pastor,' said Brother 
 Didlum, who now rose to give out the closing hymn, ' his flock 
 will not be left hentirely without a shepherd, for we 'ave 
 arranged with Mr Starr to come and say a few words to us 
 hevery Sunday.' 
 
 When they heard Brother Didlum's announcement a 
 murmur of intense rapture rose from the ladies, and Mr Starr 
 smiled sweetly. Brother Didlum did not mention the details 
 of the 'arrangement'; to have done so at that time would 
 have been most unseemly, but the following extract from the 
 
 146
 
 Sunday School 
 
 accounts of the chapel will not be out of place here : ' Paid 
 to Rev. John Starr, for service rendered on Sunday, i4th 
 November, 4 45., per the treasurer.' 
 
 After the ' service ' was over, most of the children, includ- 
 ing Charley and Frankie, remained to get collecting cards. 
 Mr Starr was surrounded by a crowd of admirers, and a little 
 later, when he drove away with Mr Belcher and Mr Sweater 
 in the latter's motor car, the ladies looked hungrily after that 
 conveyance, listening to the melancholy ' pip, pip ' of its 
 hooter and trying to console themselves with the reflection 
 that they would see him again in a few hours' time at the 
 evening service. 
 
 147
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 THE LODGER 
 
 IN accordance with his arrangement with Hunter, Owen com- 
 menced the work in the drawing room on the Monday morning, 
 a fact commented on by Crass when Harlow and Easton, who 
 were distempering some of the ceilings, went down to the 
 scullery to get some more whitewash. 
 
 ' Well, wot do you think of it ? ' he said, as he filled their 
 pails. 
 
 4 Think of what ? ' asked Easton. 
 
 'Why, hour speshul hartist,' replied Crass, with a sneer. 
 ' Do you think 'es goin' to get through with it ? ' 
 
 'Shouldn't like to say,' replied Easton, guardedly. 
 
 4 You know it's one thing to draw on a bit of paper and 
 colour it with a penny box of paints, and quite another thing 
 to do it on a wall or ceiling,' continued Crass, ' ain't it ? ' 
 
 'Yes, that's true enough,' said Harlow. 
 
 ' Do you believe they're 'is own designs ? ' Crass went on. 
 
 'Be rather 'ard to tell,' remarked Easton, embarrassed. 
 
 Neither Harlow nor Easton shared Grass's sentiments in 
 this matter, but at the same time they could not afford to 
 offend him by sticking up for Owen. 
 
 'If you was to ast me, quietly,' Crass added, 'I should be 
 more inclined to say as 'e copied it all out of some book.' 
 
 'That's just about the size of it, mate,' agreed Harlow. 
 
 1 It would be a bit of all right if 'e was to make a bloody 
 mess of it, wouldn't it?' Crass continued, with a malignant 
 leer. 
 
 ' Not arf ! ' said Harlow. 
 
 When the two men regained the upper landing on which 
 they were working they exchanged significant glances and 
 laughed quietly. Hearing these half suppressed sounds of 
 merriment, Philpot, who was working alone in a room close 
 by put his head out of the doorway. 
 
 148
 
 The Lodger 
 
 ' Wot's the game ? ' he enquired, in a low voice. 
 
 'Ole Crass ain't arf wild about Owen doin' that room,' re- 
 plied Harlow, and repeated the substance of Grass's remarks. 
 
 ' It is a bit of a take-down for the bleeder, ain't it, 'avin' to 
 play second fiddle ? ' said Philpot, with a delighted grin. 
 
 "E's 'opin' Owen'll make a mess of it,' Easton whispered. 
 
 'Well, "e'll be disappointed, mate,' answered Philpot. 'I 
 was workin' along of Owen for Pushem and Sloggem about 
 two years ago, and I seen Mm do a job down at the Royal 
 'Otel the smokin' room ceilin' it was and I can tell you it 
 looked a bloody treat ! ' 
 
 ' I've heard tell of it,' said Harlow. r 
 
 'There's no doubt Owen knows 'is work,' remarked Easton. 
 ' Although 'e is a bit orf 'is onion about Socialism.' 
 
 'I don't know so much about that, mate,' returned Philpot, 
 ' I agree with a lot that 'e ses. I've often thought the same 
 things meself, but I can't talk like 'im 'cause I ain't got no 
 'ead for it.' 
 
 ' I agree with some of it, too,' said Harlow, with a laugh, 
 ' but all the same, 'e does say some bloody silly things, you 
 must admit. For instance, that cuff about money bein' the 
 cause of poverty." 
 
 ' Yes ; I can't exactly see that meself,' agreed Philpot. 
 
 ' We must tackle 'im about that at dinner time,' said Harlow. 
 ' I should rather like to 'ear how 'e makes it out.' 
 
 ' For Gord's sake don't go startin' no arguments at dinner 
 time,' said Easton. 'Leave 'im alone when 'e is quiet.' 
 
 ' Yes, let's 'ave our dinner in peace, if possible,' said Philpot. 
 ' Sh ! ! ' he added, hoarsely, suddenly holding up his hand 
 warningly. 
 
 They listened intently. It was evident from the creaking of 
 the stairs that someone was crawling up them. Philpot in- 
 stantly disappeared. Harlow lifted up the pail of whitewash 
 and set it down noisily. 
 
 ' I think we'd better 'ave the steps and the plank over this 
 side, Easton,' he said in a loud voice. 
 
 'Yes. I think that'll be the best way,' replied Easton. 
 
 While they were arranging their scaffold to do the ceiling, 
 Crass arrived on the landing. He made no remark at first, but 
 walked into the rooms to see how many ceilings they had 
 done. 
 
 'You'd better look alive, you chaps,' he said, as he went 
 
 149
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 downstairs again. ' If we don't get these ceilings finished by 
 dinner time, Nimrod's sure to ramp.' 
 
 'All right,' said Harlow, gruffly. 'We'll bloody soon slosh 
 'em over.' 
 
 'Slosh' was a very suitable word ; very descriptive of the man- 
 ner in which the work was done. The cornices of the staircase 
 ceilings were enriched with plaster ornaments, the crevices 
 of which were still filled up with old whitewash ; and by the 
 time Harlow and Easton had ' sloshed ' a lot more whitewash 
 on, they were mere formless unsightly lumps of plaster. The 
 'hands' who did the ' washing off' were not to blame. They 
 had been hunted away from the work before it was half done. 
 
 While Harlow and Easton were distempering these ceilings, 
 Philpot and the other hands were proceeding with the paint- 
 ing in different parts of the inside of the house, and Owen, 
 assisted by Bert, was getting on with the work in the drawing 
 room, striking chalk lines and measuring and setting out the 
 different panels. 
 
 There were no 'political' arguments that day at dinner 
 time, to the disappointment of Crass, who was still waiting 
 for an opportunity to produce the ' Obscurer ' cutting. After 
 dinner when the others had all gone back to their work, 
 Philpot unobtrusively returned to the kitchen and gathered 
 up the discarded paper wrappers in which some of the men 
 had brought their food. Spreading one of these open he shook 
 the crumbs from the others upon it. In this way and by pick- 
 ing up particles of bread from the floor, he collected a little 
 pile of crumbs and crusts. To these he added some fragments 
 that he had left from his own dinner. He then took the parcel 
 upstairs, and opening one of the windows threw the crumbs 
 on to the roof of the portico. He had scarcely closed the 
 window when two starlings fluttered down and began to eat, 
 while Philpot stood watching with furtive satisfaction from 
 behind the shutter. 
 
 The afternoon passed uneventfully. From one till five 
 seemed a very long time to most of the hands, but to Owen 
 and his mate, who were doing something in which they were 
 able to feel some interest and pleasure, the time passed so 
 rapidly that they both regretted the approach of evening. 
 
 ' Other days,' remarked Bert, 'I always keeps on wishin' it was 
 time to go 'ome ; but to-day seems to 'ave gorn like lightnin' ! ' 
 
 After leaving off that night all the men kept together till 
 
 '5
 
 The Lodger 
 
 they arrived down town, and then separated. Owen went by 
 himself; Easton, Philpot, Crass and Bundy adjourned to the 
 Cricketers Arms to have a drink together, and Slyme, who 
 was a teetotaller, returned to the Eastons' house alone. 
 
 4 Don't wait for me,' said Easton, as he went off with 
 Crass and the others. ' I shall most likely catch you up before 
 you get there.' 
 
 This evening Slyme, instead of taking the direct road, 
 turned into the main street, and pausing before the window 
 of a toy shop examined the articles displayed therein atten- 
 tively. After some minutes he appeared to have come to a 
 decision, and entering the shop he purchased a baby's rattle 
 for fourpence half-penny. It was a pretty toy made of white 
 bone and coloured wool, with a number of little bells hanging 
 upon it, and a ring of white bone at the end of the handle. 
 
 He then set out for home, walking rapidly, and found Ruth 
 sitting by the fire with the baby on her lap. She looked up 
 with an expression of disappointment as she perceived that 
 he was alone. 
 
 'Where's Will got to again ? ' she asked. 
 
 1 He's gone to 'ave a drink with some of the chaps. He said 
 he wouldn't be long,' replied Slyme as he put his food basket 
 on the dresser and went upstairs to his room to wash and 
 to change his clothes. 
 
 When he came down again, Easton had not yet arrived. 
 
 ' Everything's ready, except just to make the tea,' said 
 Ruth, who was evidently annoyed at the continued absence 
 of Easton, ' so you may as well have yours now.' 
 
 ' I'm in no hurry. I'll wait a little and see if he comes. 
 He's sure to be here soon.' 
 
 ' If you're sure you don't mind I shall be glad if you will 
 wait,' said Ruth, 'becauseitwill save me making two lotsof tea.' 
 
 They waited for about half-an-hour, talking at intervals in 
 a constrained, awkward way about trivial subjects. Then as 
 Easton did not come, Ruth decided to serve Slyme without 
 waiting any longer. With this intention she laid the baby in 
 its cot, but the child resented this arrangement and began to 
 cry, so she had to hold him under her left arm while she 
 made the tea. Seeing her in this predicament, Slyme exclaimed, 
 holding out his hands : 
 
 1 Here, let me hold him while you do that.' 
 
 ' Will you ? ' said Ruth, who in spite of her instinctive
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 dislike of the man, could not help feeling gratified with this 
 attention. 'Well, mind you don't let him fall.' 
 
 But the instant Slyme took hold of the child it began to 
 cry even louder than it did when it was put into the cradle. 
 
 ' He's always like that with strangers,' apologised Ruth as 
 she took him back again. 
 
 'Wait a minute,' said Slyme. ' I've got something upstairs 
 in my pocket that will keep him quiet. I'd forgotten all about it.' 
 
 He went up to his room and presently returned with the 
 rattle. When the baby saw the bright colours and heard the 
 tinkling of the bells he crowed with delight, and clutching at 
 it eagerly allowed Slyme to take him without a murmur of 
 protest. Before Ruth had finished making and serving the 
 tea, the man and the child were on the very best of terms 
 with each other, so much so indeed that when his mother 
 was ready to take him again, the baby seemed reluctant to 
 part from Slyme, who had been dancing him in the air and 
 tickling him in the most delightful way. 
 
 Ruth, too, began to have a better opinion of their lodger, 
 and felt inclined to reproach herself for having taken such an 
 unreasonable dislike to him at first. He was evidently a very 
 good sort of fellow after all. 
 
 The baby had by this time discovered the use of the bone 
 ring at the end of the handle of the toy and was biting it 
 energetically. 
 
 1 It's a very beautiful rattle,' said Ruth. 'Thank you very 
 much for it, it's just the very thing he wanted.' 
 
 4 1 heard you say the other day that he wanted something 
 of the kind to bite on to help his teeth through,' answered 
 Slyme, ' and when I happened to notice that in the shop I 
 remembered what you said and thought I'd bring it home.' 
 
 The baby took the ring out of its mouth and shaking the 
 rattle frantically in the air laughed and crowed merrily, 
 looking at Slyme. 
 
 ' Dad ! dad ! dad ! ' he cried, holding out his arms. 
 
 Slyme and Ruth burst out laughing. 
 
 ' That's not your dad, you silly boy,' she said, kissing the 
 child as she spoke ; ' your dad ought to be ashamed of himself 
 for staying out like this. We'll give him dad, dad, dad, when 
 he does come home, won't we ? ' 
 
 But the baby only shook the rattle and rang the bells and 
 laughed and crowed and laughed again, louder than ever. 
 
 152
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 THE CRICKETERS' ARMS 
 
 VIEWED from outside, ' The Cricketers' Arms ' was a pre- 
 tentious-looking building with plate glass windows and a 
 profusion of gilding. The pilasters were painted in imitation 
 of different marbles and the doors grained to represent costly 
 woods. There were panels containing painted advertisements 
 of wines and spirits and beer, written in gold, and ornamented 
 with gaudy colours. On the lintel over the principal entrance 
 was inscribed in small white letters : A. Harpy. Licensed 
 to sell wines, spirits and malt liquors by retail to be consumed 
 either on or off the premises.' 
 
 The bar was arranged in the usual way, being divided into 
 several compartments. First there was the 'Saloon Bar,' on 
 the glass door of which was fixed a printed bill : ' No four ale 
 served in this bar.' Next was the jug and bottle department, 
 much appreciated by ladies who wished to indulge in a drop 
 of gin on the quiet. There were also two small 'private ' bars, 
 only capable of holding two or three persons, where nothing 
 less than four pennyworth of spirits or glasses of ale at three- 
 pence were served. Finally, there was the public bar, the 
 largest compartment of all. 
 
 Wooden forms provided seating accommodation for the 
 customers, and a large automatic musical instrument a 
 'penny in the slot' polyphone, resembling a grandfather's 
 clock in shape stood close to the counter, so that those behind 
 the bar could reach to wind it up. Hanging on the partition 
 near the polyphone was a board about fifteen inches square, 
 over the surface of which were distributed a number of 
 small hooks, numbered. At the bottom of the board was a net 
 made of fine twine, in which several india rubber rings about 
 three inches in diameter were lying. There was no table in the 
 place but jutting out from the partition which divided the 
 public bar from the others was a hinged flap about three feet 
 
 153
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 long by twenty inches wide, which could be folded down 
 when not in use. This was the ' Shove-ha'penny' board. The 
 coins old French pennies used in playing this game were 
 kept behind the bar and might be borrowed on application. 
 On the partition, just above the shove-ha'penny board was a 
 neatly printed notice, framed and glazed : 
 
 NOTICE 
 
 GENTLEMEN USING THIS HOUSE ARE REQUESTED 
 TO REFRAIN FROM USING OBSCENE LANGUAGE. 
 
 Alongside this notice were a number of gaudily coloured 
 bills advertising the local theatre and the music hall, and 
 another of a travelling circus and menagerie then visiting the 
 town and encamped on a piece of waste ground about half 
 way on the road to Windley. 
 
 The fittings behind the bar, and the counter, were of polished 
 mahogany, with silvered plate glass at the back of the shelves. 
 On these shelves were rows of bottles and cut glass decanters, 
 gin, whiskey, brandy, and wines and liqueurs of different 
 kinds. 
 
 When Crass, Philpot, Easton and Bundy entered, the land- 
 lord, a well-fed, prosperous looking individual in white shirt 
 sleeves, a bright maroon fancy waistcoat, a massive gold watch 
 chain and a diamond ring, was conversing in an affable, friendly 
 way with one of his regular customers, sitting close to the 
 counter. He was a shabbily dressed, bleary-eyed, degraded, 
 beer-sodden, trembling wretch, about thirty years of age, who 
 spent most of his time and all his money at 'The Cricketers.' 
 He had once been a carpenter, but somej'ears previously had 
 married a woman considerably his senior, the landlad} r of a 
 third rate lodging house, whose business was sufficiently 
 prosperous to enable him to exist without working and in a 
 condition of perpetual semi-intoxication. He came to the 
 1 Cricketers ' every morning, and sometimes earned a pint of 
 beer by assisting the barman in sweeping up the sawdust or 
 cleaning the windows, and usually remained until closing time 
 every night. 
 
 The only other occupant of the public bar previous to the 
 entrance of Crass and his mates was a semi-drunken house 
 painter, who was sitting on the form near the shove ha'penny 
 board. This individual wore a battered bowler hat ; he had a 
 very thin, pale face, with a large, high-bridged nose, and bore 
 
 '54
 
 The Cricketers 1 Arms 
 
 a striking resemblance to the portraits of the first Duke of 
 Wellington. He was not a regular customer but, having 
 dropped in casually about two o'clock, was beginning to 
 show the effects of the drink he had taken. 
 
 As Crass and the others entered they were hailed with en- 
 thusiasm by the landlord and the Besotted Wretch, while the 
 semi-drunk house painter regarded them with fishy eyes and 
 stupid curiosity. 
 
 ' Wot cheer, Bob ! ' said the landlord, affably, addressing 
 Crass, and nodding familiarly to the others. ' 'Ow goes it ? ' 
 
 'All reet, me ole dear!' replied Crass, jovially. ''Ow's 
 yerself ? ' 
 
 'AI.,' replied the 'old dear,' getting up from his chair in 
 readiness to execute their orders. 
 
 ' Well, wot's it to be ? ' enquired Philpot of the others. 
 
 4 Mine's a pint o' beer,' said Crass. 
 
 ' Half for me,' said Bundy. 
 
 ' Half o' beer for me, too,' replied Easton. 
 
 'That's one pint, two 'arves, and a pint o' porter for meself,' 
 said Philpot, turning and addressing the Old Dear. 
 
 While the landlord was serving these drinks the Besotted 
 Wretch finished his beer and set the empty glass down on 
 the counter, and Philpot observing this, said to him : 
 
 ' 'Ave one along o' me ? ' 
 
 ' I don't mind if I do,' replied the other. 
 
 When the drinks were served, Philpot, instead of paying 
 for them, winked significantly at the landlord, who nodding 
 silently and unobstrusively made an entry in an account book 
 that was lying on one of the shelves. Although it was only 
 Monday and he had been at work all the previous week, 
 Philpot was already stoney broke. This was accounted for by 
 the fact that on the Saturday he had paid his landlady some- 
 thing on account of the arrears of board and lodging money 
 which had accumulated while he was out of work ; and he had 
 also paid the Old Dear four shillings for drinks obtained on 
 tick during the last week. 
 
 4 Well, 'ere's the skin orf yer nose,' said Crass, nodding to 
 Philpot, and taking a long pull at the pint glass which the 
 latter had handed to him. 
 
 Similar appropriate and friendly sentiments were expressed 
 by the others and suitably acknowledged by Philpot, the 
 founder of the feast. 
 
 155
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 The Old Dear now put a penny in the slot of the polyphone, 
 and started it playing. It was some unfamiliar tune, but when 
 the semi-drunk painter heard it he rose unsteadily to his feet 
 and began shuffling and dancing about, singing : 
 
 4 Oh, we'll inwite you to the wed ding, 
 
 And we'll 'ave a glorious time ! 
 Where the boys an' the girls is a-dancing, 
 An' we'll all get drunk on wine ! ' 
 
 ' 'Ere ! that's quite enough 'o that ! ' cried the landlord, rough- 
 ly. 'We don't want that row 'ere.' 
 
 The Semi-Drunk stopped, and looking stupidly at the Old 
 Dear, sank abashed on to the seat again. 
 
 'Well, we may as well sit as stand for a few minutes,' 
 remarked Crass, suiting the action to the word. The others 
 followed his example. 
 
 At frequent intervals the bar was entered by fresh customers, 
 most of them working men on their way home, who ordered 
 and drank their pint or half pint of ale or porter and left at 
 once. Bundy began reading the advertisement of the circus 
 and menagerie, and a conversation ensued concerning the won- 
 derful performances of the trained animals. The Old Dear said 
 that some of them had as much sense as human beings, and 
 the manner with which he made this statement implied that 
 he thought it was a testimonial to the sagacity of the brutes. 
 He further said that he had heard a rumour that one of the 
 wild animals, a bear or something, had broken loose and was 
 at present at large. For his own part he didn't believe it, and 
 his hearers agreed 'that it was highly improbable. Nobody 
 ever knew how these silly yarns got about. 
 
 Presently the Besotted Wretch got up, and taking the india 
 rubber rings out of the net with a trembling hand, began 
 throwing them one at a time at the hooks on the board. The 
 rest of the company watched him with much interest, laughing 
 when he made a very bad shot and applauding when he 
 scored. 
 
 ' 'E's a bit 'orf to-night,' remarked Philpot aside to Easton, 
 1 but as a rule 'e's a fair knock out at it. Throws a splendid 
 ring ! ' 
 
 The Semi-Drunk regarded the proceedings of the Besotted 
 Wretch with an expression of profound contempt. 
 
 ' You can't play for nuts,' he said, scornfully. 
 
 156
 
 The Cricketers 1 Arms 
 
 'Can't I? I can playjyow, anyway.' 
 
 1 Right you are ! I'll play you for drinks round ! ' cried the 
 Semi-Drunk. 
 
 For a moment the Besotted Wretch hesitated. He had not 
 money enough to pay for drinks round. However, feeling con- 
 fident of winning, he replied : 
 
 4 Come on then : what's it to be ? Fifty up ? ' 
 
 4 Anything you like ! Fifty or a 'undred or a bloody million ! ' 
 
 ' Better make it fifty for a start.' 
 
 4 All right ! ' 
 
 4 You play first if you like.' 
 
 4 All right,' agreed the Semi-Drunk, anxious to distinguish 
 himself. 
 
 Holding the six rings in his left hand the man stood in 
 the middle of the floor at a distance of about three yards 
 from the board, with his right foot advanced. Taking one of 
 the rings between the forefinger and thumb of his right hand, 
 and closing his left eye, he carefully ' sighted ' the centre 
 hook, No. 13 ; then he slowly extended his arm to its full 
 length in the direction of the board ; then bending his elbow, 
 he brought his hand back again until it nearly touched his 
 chin, and slowly extended his arm again. He repeated these 
 movements several times, whilst the others watched with 
 bated breath. Getting it right at last he suddenly shot the 
 ring at the board, but it did not go on No. 13 ; it went over 
 the partition into the private bar. 
 
 This feat was greeted with a roar of laughter. The player 
 stared at the board in a dazed way, wondering what had 
 become of the ring, but when someone in the next bar threw 
 it over the partition again, he realised what had happened, 
 and turning to the company with a sickly smile, remarked : 
 
 4 1 ain't got properly used to this board yet : that's the 
 reason of it.' 
 
 He now began throwing the other rings at the board 
 rather wildly, without troubling to take aim. One struck the 
 partition to the right of the board, one to the left, one under- 
 neath, one went over the counter, one on the floor, the 
 other the last hit the board, and amid a shout of applause, 
 caught on the centre hook, No. 13, the highest number 
 possible to score with a single throw. 
 
 4 1 shall be all right now that I've got the range,' observed 
 the Semi-Drunk, as he made way for his opponent. 
 
 157
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 'You'll see something now,' whispered Philpot to Easton. 
 ' This bloke is a dandy ! ' 
 
 The Besotted Wretch took up his position and with an 
 affectation of carelessness, began throwing the rings. It was 
 really a remarkable exhibition, for notwithstanding the 
 fact that his hand trembled like an aspen leaf, he succeeded 
 in striking the board almost in the centre every time ; but some- 
 how or other most of them failed to catch on the hooks, and 
 fell into the net. When he finished his innings he had scored 
 only four, two of the rings having caught on the No. 2 hook, 
 
 ' 'Ard lines,' remarked Bundy as he finished his beer and 
 put the glass down on the counter. 
 
 ' Drink up and 'ave another,' said Easton, as he drained 
 his own glass. 
 
 4 1 don't mind if I do,' replied Crass, pouring what remained 
 of the pint down his throat. 
 
 Philpot's glass had been empty for some time. 
 
 1 Same again,' said Easton, addressing the Old Dear, and 
 putting six pennies on the counter. 
 
 By this time the Semi-Drunk had again opened fire on the 
 board, but he seemed to have lost the range this time, for 
 none of the rings scored. They flew all over the place, and 
 he finished his innings without increasing his total. 
 
 The Besotted Wretch now sailed in and speedily piled up 
 37. Then the Semi-Drunk had another go, and succeeded in 
 getting eight. His case appeared hopeless, but his opponent in 
 his next innings seemed to go all to pieces. Twice he missed 
 the board altogether, and when he did hit it he failed to 
 score until the very last throw, when he made one. Then 
 the Semi-Drunk went in again, and got ten. 
 
 The scores were now : 
 
 Besotted Wretch 42 
 
 Semi-Drunk . . . . . .31 
 
 So far it was impossible to foresee the end. It wasanybody's 
 game. Crass became so excited that he absentmindedly 
 opened his mouth and shot his second pint down into his 
 stomach with a single gulp, and Bundy also drained his 
 glass and called upon Philpot and Easton to drink up and 
 have another, which they accordingly did. 
 
 While the Semi-Drunk was having his next innings the 
 Besotted Wretch placed a penny on the counter and called 
 
 158
 
 The Cricketers' Arms 
 
 for half a pint, which he drank in the hdpe of steadying his 
 nerves for a great effort. His opponent meanwhile threw the 
 rings at the board and missed it every time, but all the same 
 he scored, for one ring, after striking the partition about a 
 foot above the board, fell down and caught on the hook. 
 
 The other man now began his innings, playing very care- 
 fully, and nearly every ring scored. As he played, the others 
 uttered explanations of admiration and called out the result 
 of every throw. 
 
 ' One ! ' 
 
 4 One again ! ' 
 
 1 Miss ! No ! got'im ! two ! ' 
 
 4 Miss ! ' 
 
 4 Miss ! ' 
 
 4 Four ! ' 
 
 The Semi-Drunk accepted his defeat with a good grace, and 
 after explaining that he was a bit out of practice, placed a 
 shilling on the counter and invited the company to give 
 their orders. Everyone asked for 'the same again,' but the 
 landlord served Easton, Bundy and the Besotted Wretch 
 with pints instead of half-pints as before, so there was no 
 change out of the shilling. 
 
 4 You know, there's a great deal in not bein' used to the 
 board,' said the Semi-Drunk. 
 
 4 There's no disgrace in bein' beat by a man like 'im, mate,' 
 said Philpot, 4 'e's a champion ! ' 
 
 4 Yes, there's no mistake about it. 'E throws a splendid 
 ring ! ' said Bundy. 
 
 This was the general verdict. The Semi-Drunk, though 
 beaten, was not disgraced, and he was so affected by the 
 good feeling manifested by the company that he presently 
 produced a sixpence and insisted on paying for another half- 
 pint all round. 
 
 4 Let's 'ave a game of shove-'apenny,' said Bundy. 
 
 4 All right,' said Easton who was beginning to feel reckless. 
 4 But drink up first, and let's 'ave another.' 
 
 He had only sevenpence left, just enough to pay for 
 another pint for Crass and half a pint for everyone else. 
 
 The shove-'apenny table was a planed mahogany board 
 with a number of parallel lines scored across it, the game 
 being to place the coin at the end of the board, the 
 rim slightly projecting over the edge, and strike it with 
 
 159
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 the back of the hand to the particular spot required by the 
 player. 
 
 ' What's become of Alf to-night ? ' inquired Philpot of the 
 landlord, whilst Easton and Bundy were playing. Alf was 
 the barman. 
 
 ' 'E's doing a bit of a job down in the cellar ; some of the 
 valves gone a bit wrong. But the missus is comin' down to 
 lend me a hand presently. 'Ere she is now.' 
 
 The landlady who at this moment entered through the 
 door at the back of the bar was a large woman with a 
 highly coloured countenance and a tremendous bust, encased 
 in a black dress with a shot silk blouse. She had several 
 jewelled gold rings on the fingers of each fat white hand, and 
 a long gold watch guard hung round her fat neck. She 
 greeted Crass and Philpot with condescension, smiling 
 affably upon them. 
 
 Meantime the game of shove-'apenny proceeded merrily, 
 Semi-Drunk taking a great interest in it and tendering advice 
 to both players impartially. Bundy was badly beaten ; and 
 then Easton suggested that it was time to think of going 
 home. This proposal slightly modified met with general 
 approval, the modification being suggested by Philpot, who 
 insisted on standing one final round of drinks before they 
 went. 
 
 While they were pouring this down, Crass took a penny 
 from his waistcoat pocket and put it in the slot of the poly- 
 phone. The landlord put a fresh disc into it and it began to 
 play " The Boys of the Old Bulldog Breed." The Semi-Drunk 
 happened to know the words of the chorus of this song, and 
 when he heard the music he started unsteadily to his feet and 
 with many fierce looks and gestures began to roar at the top 
 of his voice : 
 
 ' They may build their ships, my lads, 
 And try to play the game, 
 
 But they can't build the boys of the Bulldog breed, 
 Wot made ole Hingland's ' 
 
 1 'Ere ! stop that, will yer ? ' cried the Old Dear fiercely, ' I 
 told you once before that I don't allow that sort of thing in 
 my 'ouse ! ' 
 
 The Semi-Drunk stopped in confusion. ' I didn't mean no 
 'arm,' he said unsteadily, appealing to the company. 
 
 1 60
 
 The Cricketers' Arms 
 
 ' I don't want no chin from you ! ' said the Old Dear with 
 a ferocious scowl. ' If you want to make that row you can go 
 somewheres else, and the sooner you goes the better. You've 
 been 'ere long enough.' 
 
 This was true. The man had been there long enough to 
 spend every penny in his pocket. He had no money left 
 now, a fact that the observant and experienced landlord had 
 divined some time ago. He therefore wished to get rid of 
 the fellow before he became helplessly drunk. The Semi- 
 Drunk listened with indignation and wrath to the landlord's 
 insulting words. 
 
 1 1 shall go when the bloody 'ell I like ! ' he shouted. ' I 
 shan't ask you nor nobody else ! Who the bloody 'ell are 
 you ? You're nobody ! See ? Nobody ! It's orf the likes of me 
 that you gets your bloody livin' ! I shall stop 'ere as long as 
 I bloody well like, and if you don't like it you can go to 'ell ! ' 
 
 ' Oh ! yer will, will yer ? ' said the Old Dear. ' We'll soon 
 see about that,' and opening the door at the back of the bar 
 he roared out : 
 
 Alfl' 
 
 4 Yes, sir,' replied a voice evidently from the basement. 
 
 'Just come up 'ere.' 
 
 'All right,' replied the voice, and footsteps were heard 
 ascending some stairs. 
 
 'You'll see some fun in a minute,' gleefully remarked Crass 
 to Easton. 
 
 The polyphone continued to play 'The Boys of the 
 Bulldog Breed.' 
 
 Philpot crossed over to the Semi-Drunk. ' Look 'ere, old 
 man,' he whispered, 'take my tip and go 'ome quietly. You'll 
 only git the worst of it, you know.' 
 
 ' Not me, mate,' replied the other, shaking his head 
 doggedly. ' 'Ere I am, and 'ere I'm goin' to bloody well stop.' 
 
 4 No you aint,' replied Philpot coaxingly. 'Look 'ere: I'll 
 tell you wot we'll do. You 'ave just one more 'arf pint along 
 of me, and then we'll both go 'ome together. I'll see you 
 safe 'ome.' 
 
 ' See me safe 'ome ! Wotcher mean ? ' indignantly demanded 
 the other. 'Do you think I'm drunk! ' 
 
 'No: certainly not,' replied Philpot, hastily, 'you're all 
 right, as right as I am myself. But you know wot I mean, 
 let's go-'ome. You don't want to stop 'ere all night, do you ? ' 
 L 161
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 By this time Alf had arrived at the door at the back of the 
 bar. He was a burly young man about twenty-two or twenty- 
 three years of age. 
 
 1 Put it outside,' growled the landlord indicating the culprit. 
 
 The barman instantly vaulted over the counter, and having 
 opened wide the door leading into the street, he turned to 
 the half-drunken man and jerking his thumb in the direction 
 of the door said : 
 
 4 Are yer goin' ? ' 
 
 4 I'm goin' to 'ave'arf a pint along of this genelman first 
 
 4 Yes, it's all right,' said Philpot to the landlord. 4 Let's 'ave 
 two 'arf pints, and say no more about it.' 
 
 4 You mind your own business,' shouted the landlord, 
 turning savagely on him. 4 'E'11 get no more 'ere! I don't want 
 no drunken men in my 'ouse. Who asked you to interfere ? ' 
 
 4 Now, then ! ' exclaimed the barman to the cause of the 
 trouble. 4 Outside ! ' 
 
 4 Not me!' said the Semi-Drunk, firmly, 4 not before I've 
 'ad my 'arf 
 
 But before he could conclude, the barman had clutched him 
 by the collar, dragged him violently to the door and shot him 
 into the middle of the road, where he fell in a heap almost 
 under the wheels of a brewer's dray which happened to be 
 passing. This accomplished, Alf shut the door, and retired 
 behind the counter again. 
 
 'Serve 'im bloody well right,' said Crass. 
 
 4 1 couldn't 'elp laughin' when I seen 'im go flyin' through 
 the bloody door,' said Bundy. 
 
 4 You oughter 'ave more sense than to go interferin' like 
 that,' said Crass to Philpot. 4 It was nothing to do with you.' 
 
 Philpot made no reply. He was standing with his back to 
 the others, peeping out into the street over the top of the 
 window casing. Then he opened the door and went out into 
 the street. Crass and the others through the window- 
 watched him assist the Semi-Drunk to his feet and rub some 
 of the dirt off his clothes, and presently, after some argument 
 they saw the two go away together, arm in arm. 
 
 Crass and the others laughed, and returned to their half 
 finished drinks. 
 
 4 Why, old Joe aint drunk 'ardly 'arf of 'is ! ' cried Easton, 
 seeing Philpot's porter on the counter. 4 Fancy going away 
 like that ! ' 
 
 162
 
 The Cricketers* Arms 
 
 'More fool 'im,' growled Crass, 'There was no need for it, 
 the man's all right.' 
 
 The Besotted Wretch gulped his beer down as quickly as 
 he could, with his eyes fixed greedily on Philpot's glass. He 
 had just finished his own and was about to suggest that it 
 was a pity to waste the porter, when Philpot unexpectedly 
 reappeared. 
 
 ' Hullo ! what 'ave you done with 'im ? ' inquired Crass. 
 
 1 1 think 'e'll be all right,' replied Philpot. ' He wouldn't let 
 me go no further with 'im ; said if I didn't go away, 'e'd go 
 for me ! But I believe 'e'll be all right, I think the fall sobered 
 'im a bit.' 
 
 ' Oh, 'e's all right,' said Crass, offhandedly. ' There's nothing 
 the matter with V/w.' 
 
 Philpot now drank his porter, and bidding good-night to 
 the Old Dear, the landlady and the Besotted Wretch, they all 
 set out for home. 
 
 As they went along the dark and lonely thoroughfare that 
 led over the hill to Windle}', they heard from time to time the 
 weird roaring of the wild animals in the menagerie that was 
 encamped in the adjacent field. Just as they reached a very 
 gloomy and deserted part, they suddenly observed a dark 
 object in the middle of the road some distance in front of them. 
 It seemed to be a large animal of some kind, and was coming 
 slowly and stealthily towards them. 
 
 They stopped, peering in a half frightened way through the 
 darkness. The animal continued to approach. Bundy stooped 
 down to the ground, groping about in search of a stone, and 
 with the exception of Crass, who was too frightened to move 
 the others followed his example. They found several large 
 stones and stood waiting for the creature whatever it was 
 to come a little nearer so as to get a fair shot at it. They were 
 about to let fly when it fell over on its side and moaned as 
 if in pain. Observing this the four men advanced cautiously 
 towards it. Bundy struck a match, and held it over the pro- 
 strate figure. It was the Semi-Drunk. 
 
 After parting from Philpot the poor wretch had managed 
 to walk all right for some distance. As Philpot had remarked, 
 the fall had to some extent sobered him ; but he had not gone 
 very far before the drink he had taken began to affect him 
 again and he had fallen down. Finding it impossible to get up, 
 he began crawling along on his hands and knees, unconscious 
 
 163
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 of the fact that he was travelling in the wrong direction. Even 
 this mode of progression failed him at last, and he would 
 probably have been run over if they had not found him. They 
 raised him up, and Philpot, exhorting him to ' pull himself 
 together,' enquired where he lived. The man had sense enough 
 left to be able to tell them his address, which was fortunately 
 at Windley. 
 
 Bundy and Philpot took him home, and Crass and Easton 
 walked on together, as they both lived in the same street. 
 
 Crass felt very full and satisfied with himself. He had had 
 six and a half pints of beer, and had listened to two selections 
 on the polyphone at a total cost of one penny. 
 
 As soon as Easton parted from Crass, and he heard the 
 latter's door close, he stopped and leant up against a lamp 
 post feeling dizzy and ill. All the inanimate objects around 
 him seemed to be in motion, the lights of the lamps appeared 
 to be floating about and the pavement rose and fell, like a 
 troubled sea. After a time he went on again and walked un- 
 steadily up the narrow path to his door, the gate clanging 
 loudly after him. 
 
 The baby was asleep in the cradle. Slyme had gone up to 
 his own room, and Ruth was sitting sewing by the fireside. 
 The table was still set for two persons, for she had not yet 
 taken her tea. 
 
 Easton lurched in noisily. ' 'Ello, old girl ! ' he cried, throw- 
 ing his dinner basket carelessly on the floor with an affecta- 
 tion of joviality, and resting his hands on the table to support 
 himself; 'I've come at last, you see.' 
 
 Letting her hands fall into her lap, Ruth sat looking at him. 
 She had never seen him like this before. His face was ghastly 
 pale, the eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed, the lips tremulous 
 and moist and the ends of his fair moustache hung untidily 
 round his mouth in damp clusters. Perceiving that she did 
 not speak or smile, Easton concluded that she was angry 
 and became grave himself. 
 
 1 I've come at last, you see, my dear ; better late than never.' 
 
 He found it very difficult to speak plainly, for his lips 
 trembled and refused to form the words. 
 
 ' I don't know so much about that,' said Ruth, inclined to 
 cry and trying not to let him see the pity she could not help 
 feeling for him. 'A nice state you're in. You ought to be 
 ashamed of yourself.' 
 
 164
 
 The Cricketers' Arms 
 
 Eastern shook his head and laughed foolishly. ' Don't be 
 angry, Ruth; it's no good, you know.' 
 
 He walked clumsily towards her, still leaning on the table 
 to steady himself. 
 
 'Don't be angry,' he mumbled, as he stooped over her, 
 putting his arm round her neck and his face close to hers. 
 4 It's no good being angry, you know, dear.' 
 
 She shrank away, shuddering with involuntary disgust as 
 he pressed his wet lips and filthy moustache upon her mouth. 
 His fetid breath, foul with the smell of tobacco and beer, filled 
 her with loathing. He kissed her repeatedly, and when at last 
 he released her she hastily wiped her face with her handker- 
 chief and shivered. 
 
 Easton said he did not want any tea, and went upstairs to 
 bed almost immediately. Ruth did not want any tea either, 
 although she had been very hungry before he came home. 
 She sat up very late sewing, and when at length she went 
 upstairs she found him lying on his back, partly undressed, 
 on the outside of the bedclothes, with his mouth wide open, 
 breathing stertorously. 
 
 165
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 THE GREAT MONEY TRICK 
 
 DURING the next four weeks the usual reign of terror con- 
 tinued at ' The Cave ' ; the men slaved like so many convicts 
 under the vigilant surveillance of Crass and Rushton, not to 
 mention Misery, who had lately adopted the plan of crawling 
 up one of the ladders and entering the house by an upper 
 window. Even if he never caught any one, he accomplished 
 the useful purpose of making the men afraid to stop working 
 for an instant. The consequence was the job at ' The Cave ' 
 rapidly neared completion, and though the hands cursed and 
 grumbled at their mates for ' tearing into it ' they each tore 
 into it themselves, for already there were dozens of men 
 ' walking about ' and little chance of obtaining employment 
 elsewhere. 
 
 Sweater paid frequent visits to ' The Cave ' while Owen 
 was painting the drawing room, being interested in the pro- 
 gress of the work. On these occasions Crass always managed 
 to be present and did most of the talking, an arrangement 
 which suited Owen very well, for he was always ill at ease 
 when conversing with a man like Sweater, who spoke in an 
 offensively patronising way, and expected common people to 
 kow-tow to and ' Sir ' him at every second word. Crass, how- 
 ever, seemed to enjoy doing that kind of thing, and though 
 he did not exactly grovel on the floor when Sweater spoke to 
 him, he contrived to convey the impression that he was willing 
 to do so if desired. 
 
 Outside the house Bundy and his mates had dug deep 
 trenches in the damp ground for the new drains. It was a 
 miserable job. Owing to the fact that there had been a spell 
 of bad weather the ground was sodden with rain and there 
 was mud everywhere, the men's clothing and boots were 
 caked with it. But the worst thing about the job was the 
 smell. For years the old drain-pipes had been defective and 
 
 1 66
 
 The Great Money Trick 
 
 leaky. The ground a few feet below the surface was saturated 
 with fetid moisture. The clothing of the men who were work- 
 ing in the trenches became saturated with this fearful stench, 
 and for that matter, so did the men themselves. They said 
 they could smell and taste it, even when they were away from 
 the work, at home, and when they were at meals. Although 
 they smoked their pipes all the time they were at work 
 Misery having ungraciously given them permission several 
 times Bundy and one or other of his mates were attacked 
 with fits of nausea and vomiting. 
 
 But, as they began to realise that the finish of the job was 
 in sight, a kind of panic seized upon all the hands, especially 
 those who had been taken on last and who would therefore 
 be the first to be ' stood still '. Easton, however, felt pretty 
 confident that Crass would do his best to get him kept on 
 till the end of the job, for they had become quite chummy 
 lately, usually spending a few evenings together at the 
 ' Cricketers ' every week. 
 
 'There'll be a bloody slaughter 'ere soon,' remarked Harlow 
 to Philpot, one day as they were painting the bannisters of 
 the staircase. ' I reckon next week will about finish the 
 inside.' 
 
 4 And the outside ain't goin' to take very long, you know,' 
 replied Philpot. 
 
 'They ain't got no other work in, have they ? ' 
 
 ' Not that I knows of,' replied Philpot gloomily ; ' and I don't 
 think anyone else has either.' 
 
 ' You know that little place they call the " Kiosk " down on 
 the Grand Parade, near the bandstand ? ' asked Harlow, after 
 a pause. ' I heard last night that Grinder, the fruit merchant, 
 is going to open it again. If so, it will be a job for someone 
 because it will "ave to be done up.' 
 
 ' Well, I hope it will,' said Philpot. ' It will be a job for some 
 poor bleeder.' 
 
 ' I wonder if they've started on the Venetian blinds for this 
 'ouse.' 
 
 ' I don't know,' said Philpot, and they relapsed into silence. 
 
 ' I wonder what time it is,' said Philpot, at length. ' I don't 
 know 'ow you feel, but I begin to want my dinner.' 
 
 'That's just what I was thinking : it can't be very far off it 
 now. It's nearly 'arf an hour since Bert went down to make 
 the tea. It seems a 'ell of a long morning to me.' 
 
 167
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 'So it does to me,' said Philpot. 'Slip upstairs and ask 
 Slyme what time it is.' 
 
 Harlow laid his brush across the top of his paint pot and 
 went upstairs. He was wearing a pair of cloth slippers, and 
 walked softly, not wishing Crass to hear him leaving his work, 
 so it happened that without any intention of spying, he reach- 
 ed the door of the room in which Slyme was working without 
 being heard, and entering suddenly, surprised the latter, who 
 was standing near the fireplace, in the act of breaking a 
 whole roll of wall paper across his knee as one might break 
 a stick. On the floor beside him was what had been another 
 roll, now broken into two pieces. When Harlow came in, Slyme 
 started, and his face became crimson with confusion. He hastily 
 gathered the broken rolls together and stooping down, thrust 
 the pieces up the flue of the grate and closed the register. 
 
 ' Wot's the bloody game ? ' enquired Harlow, curiously. 
 
 Slyme laughed with an affectation of carelessness, but his 
 hands trembled and his face was now very pale. 
 
 ' We must get our own back somehow you know, Fred,' he 
 said. 
 
 Harlow did not reply. He did not understand. After 
 puzzling over it for a few minutes he gave it up. 
 
 ' What's the time ? ' he asked. 
 
 ' Fifteen minutes to twelve,' said Slyme, and added, as 
 Harlow was going away : 'don't mention anything about that 
 there paper to Crass or any of the others.' 
 
 ' I shan't say nothing,' replied Harlow. 
 
 Gradually, as he pondered over it, Harlow began to com- 
 prehend the meaning of the destruction of the two rolls of 
 paper. Slyme was doing the paperhanging piecework so 
 much for each roll hung. Four of the rooms upstairs had been 
 done with the same pattern, and Hunter had evidently sent 
 more paper than was necessary. By getting rid of these two 
 rolls Slyme would be able to make it appear that he had hung 
 two rolls more than was really the case. He had broken them 
 in order to be able to take them away from the house without 
 detection, and had hidden them up the chimney until an op- 
 portunity of so doing presented itself. Harlow had just arrived 
 at this solution of the problem when, hearing the lower flight 
 of stairs creaking, he peeped over and observed Misery crawl- 
 ing up, with the object of discovering someone who had 
 stopped work before the proper time. Passing the two workmen 
 
 1 68
 
 The Great Money Trick 
 
 without speaking, he ascended to the next floor and entered 
 the room where Slyme was working. 
 
 'You'd better not do this room yet,' said Hunter, 'there's 
 to be a new grate and mantelpiece put in.' 
 
 He crossed over to the fireplace and stood looking at it 
 thoughtfully for a few minutes. 
 
 ' It's not a bad little grate, .you know, is it ? ' he remarked. 
 ' We'll be able to use it somewhere or other.' 
 
 'Yes, it's all right,' said Slyme, whose heart was beating 
 like a steam hammer. 
 
 ' Do for a front room in a cottage,' continued Misery, stoop- 
 ing down to examine it more closely. ' There's nothing broke 
 that I can see.' 
 
 He put his hand against the register and vainly tried to 
 push it open. 
 
 ' H'm, there's something wrong 'ere,' he remarked, pushing 
 harder. 
 
 'Most likely a brick or some plaster fallen down,' gasped 
 Slyme, coming to Misery's assistance, 'shall /try to open it? ' 
 
 'Don't trouble,' replied Nimrod, rising to his feet. 'It's 
 most likely what you say. I'll see that the new grate is sent 
 up after dinner. Bundy can fix it this afternoon and then you 
 can go on papering as soon as you like.' 
 
 With this, Misery went out of the room, downstairs and 
 away from the house, and Slyme wiped the sweat from his 
 forehead. Then he knelt down and opening the register he 
 took out the broken rolls of paper and hid them up the chimney 
 of the next room. While he was doing this the sound of Grass's 
 whistle shrilled through the house. 
 
 ' Thank Gord ! ' exclaimed Philpot, fervently, as he laid his 
 brushes on the top of his pot and joined in the general rush 
 to the kitchen, the luxurious banqueting hall of the workers. 
 
 The floor was unswept and littered with dirt, scraps of 
 paper, bits of plaster, pieces of lead pipe and dried mud ; and 
 in the midst stood the steaming bucket of stewed tea and the 
 collection of cracked cups, jam jars and condensed-milk tins. 
 On the upturned pails, planks and dresser drawers sat the 
 men in their shabby ragged clothing, eating their coarse food, 
 cracking their coarser jokes, contented so long as they had 
 plenty of work, something to eat, someone else's cast off cloth- 
 ing to wear, convinced that the good things of life were not 
 for the likes of them, or for their children either. 
 
 169
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 4 Wot's become of the Professor ? ' asked the man who sat 
 on an upturned pail in the corner, referring to Owen, who 
 had not yet come down from his work. 
 
 4 P'r'aps 'e's preparing 'is sermon,' remarked Harlow with 
 a laugh. 
 
 4 We ain't 'ad no lectures from 'im lately, since 'e's been on 
 that room,' observed Easton, ' 'ave we ? ' 
 
 4 Dam good job too ! ' exclaimed Sawkins. * It gives me the 
 pip to 'ear 'im, the same old thing over and over again.' 
 
 4 Poor ole Frank,' remarked Harlow, "e does upset 'isself 
 about things, don't 'e ? ' 
 
 4 More fool 'im ! ' said Bundy, 4 I'll take bloody good care I 
 don't go worryin' myself to death like 'e's doin' about such 
 dam rot as that.' 
 
 4 1 do believe that's wot makes 'im look so bad as 'e does,' 
 observed Harlow ; 4 several times this morning I couldn't help 
 noticing the way 'e kept on coughing.' 
 
 4 1 thought 'e seemed to be a bit better lately,' Philpot ob- 
 served, 4 more cheerful and happier like, and more inclined for 
 a bit of fun.' 
 
 4 'E's a funny sort of chap, ain't 'e ? ' said Bundy. 4 One day 
 quite jolly, singing and cracking jokes and tellin' yarns, and 
 the next you can't hardly get a word out of 'im.' 
 
 'Bloody rot, I call it,' chimed in the man on the pail. 4 Wot 
 the 'ell's the use of the likes of us troublin' our 'ed's about 
 politics ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, I don't see that,' replied Harlow. 4 We've got votes and 
 we're really the people what control the affairs of the country, 
 so I reckon we ought to take some interest in it ; but at the 
 same time I can't see no sense in this 'ere Socialist wangle 
 that Owen's always talkin' about.' 
 
 4 Nor nobody else neither,' said Crass, with a jeering laugh. 
 
 4 Even if all the bloody money in the world was divided out 
 equal,' said the man on the pail, profoundly, 4 it wouldn't do 
 no good ! In six months' time it would be all back in the same 
 'ands again.' 
 
 4 Of course,' said everybody. 
 
 4 But 'e 'ad a cuff the other day about money bein' no good 
 at all,' observed Easton. 4 Don't you remember 'e said as money 
 was the principal cause of poverty ? ' 
 
 4 So it is the principal cause of poverty,' said Owen, who 
 entered at that moment. 
 
 170
 
 The Great Money Trick 
 
 1 Hooray ! ' shouted Philpot, leading off a cheer which the 
 others took up. ' The Professor 'as arrived and will now pro- 
 ceed to say a few remarks.' 
 
 A roar of merriment greeted this sally. 
 
 1 Let's 'ave our dinner first, for Christ's sake,' appealed 
 Harlow, with mock despair. 
 
 As Owen, having filled his cup with tea, sat down in his 
 usual place, Philpot rose solemnly to his feet, and looking 
 round upon the company said : 
 
 Genelmen, with your kind permission, as soon as the 
 Professor 'as finished 'is dinner 'e will deliver 'is well known 
 lecture, entitled : " Money the Principal Cause of being 'ard 
 up," proving as money ain't no good to nobody. At the hend 
 of the lecture a collection will be took up to provide the lec- 
 turer with a little encouragement.' Philpot resumed his seat 
 amid cheers. 
 
 As soon as they had finished eating, some of the men began 
 to make remarks about the lecture, but Owen only laughed 
 and went on reading the piece of newspaper that his dinner 
 had been wrapped in. Usually most of the men went out for a 
 walk after dinner but as it happened to be raining that day 
 they were determined, if possible, to make Owen fulfil the en- 
 gagement made in his name by Philpot. 
 
 4 Let's 'oot 'im,' said Harlow, and the suggestion was at 
 once acted upon ; howls, groans, and catcalls filled the air, 
 mingled with cries of ' Fraud ! ', ' Impostor ! ', ' Give us our 
 money back ! ', ' Let's wreck the 'all ! ' and so on. 
 
 1 Come on 'ere,' cried Philpot, putting his hand on Owen's 
 shoulder. ' Prove that money is the cause of poverty.' 
 
 1 It's one thing to say it and another to prove it,' sneered 
 Crass, who was anxious for an opportunity to produce the 
 long deferred 'Obscurer' cutting. 
 
 ' Money is the real cause of poverty,' said Owen. 
 
 1 Prove it,' repeated Crass. 
 
 ' Money is the cause of poverty because it is the device by 
 which those who are too lazy to work are enabled to rob the 
 workers of the fruits of their labour.' 
 
 ' Prove it,' said Crass. 
 
 Owen slowly folded up the piece of newspaper he had been 
 reading and put it into his pocket. 
 
 1 All right,' he replied, ' I'll show you how the Great Money 
 Trick is worked.' 
 
 171
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 Owen opened his dinner basket and took from it two slices 
 of bread, but as these were not sufficient, he requested 
 anyone who had some bread left to give it to him. They 
 gave him several pieces which he placed in a heap on a clean 
 piece of paper, and having borrowed the pocket knives they 
 used to cut and eat their dinners with from Easton, Harlow 
 and Philpot, he addressed them as follows : 
 
 ' These pieces of bread represent the raw materials which 
 exist naturally in and on the earth for the use of mankind ; 
 they were not made by any human being, but were created by 
 the Great Spirit for the benefit and sustenance of all, as were 
 the air and the light of the sun.' 
 
 ' You're about as fair speakin' a man as I've met for some 
 time,' said Harlow, winking at the others. 
 
 1 Yes, mate,' said Philpot, ' anyone would agree to that much: 
 it's as clear as mud.' 
 
 ' Now,' continued Owen, ' I am a capitalist ; or rather, I re- 
 present the landlord and capitalist class. That is to say, all 
 these raw materials belong to me. It does not matter for 
 our present argument how I obtained possession of them, 
 or whether I have any real right to them ; the only thing 
 that matters now is the admitted fact that all the raw 
 materials which are necessary for the production of the 
 necessaries of life are now the property of the Landlord and 
 Capitalist Class. I am that class : all these raw materials 
 belong to me.' 
 
 ' Good enough,' agreed Philpot. 
 
 1 Now you three represent the Working Class : you have 
 nothing. And for my part, although I have all these raw ma- 
 terials, they are of no use to me ; what I need is the things 
 that can be made out of these raw materials by Work. But as 
 I am too lazy to work myself, I have invented the Money Trick 
 to make you work for me. But first I must explain that I poss- 
 ess something else besides the raw materials. These three 
 knives represent all the machinery of production : the fac- 
 tories, tools, railways, and so forth, without which the neces- 
 saries of life cannot be produced in abundance. And these 
 three coins' taking three halfpennies from his pocket 're- 
 present my Money Capital.' 
 
 ' But before we go any further,' said Owen, interrupting 
 himself, ' it is most important that you remember that I am 
 not supposed to be merely "a" capitalist, I represent the 
 
 172
 
 The Great Money Trick 
 
 whole Capitalist Class; you are not supposed to be just three 
 workers, you represent the whole Working Class.' - 
 
 4 All right, all right,' said Crass, impatiently, 'we all under- 
 stands that. Git on with it.' 
 
 Owen now proceeded to cut up one of the slices of bread 
 into a number of little square blocks. 
 
 'These represent the things which are produced by labour, 
 aided by machinery, from the raw materials. We will suppose 
 that three of these blocks represent a week's work. We will 
 suppose that a week's work is worth one pound, and we 
 will suppose that each of these ha'pennies is a sovereign. 
 We'd be able to do the trick better if we had real sovereigns, 
 but I forgot to bring any with me.' 
 
 'I'd lend you some,' said Philpot, regretfully, 'but I left 
 me purse on our grand pianner.' 
 
 As by a strange coincidence nobody happened to have any 
 gold with them.it was decided to make shift with the half-pence. 
 
 ' Now this is the way the trick works 
 
 ' Before you goes on with it,' interrupted Philpot, apprehen- 
 sively, ' don't you think we'd better 'ave someone to keep watch 
 at the gate in case a slop comes along ? We don't want to get 
 runned in, you know.' 
 
 'I don't think there's any need for that,' replied Owen; 
 ' there's only one slop who'd interfere with us for playing this 
 game, and that's Police Constable Socialism.' 
 
 'Never mind about Socialism,' said Crass, irritably, 'get 
 along with the bloody trick.' 
 
 Owen now addressed himself to the working classes as re- 
 presented by Philpot, Harlow and Easton. 
 
 ' You say that you are all in need of employment, and as I 
 am the kind hearted capitalist class I am going to invest all 
 my money in various industries so as to give you plenty of 
 work. I shall pay each of you one pound per week ; you must 
 each produce three of these square blocks to represent a week's 
 work. For doing this work you will each receive your wages ; 
 the money will be your own to do as you like with, and the 
 things you produce will of course be mine, to do as I like with- 
 You will each take one of these machines and as soon as you 
 have done a week's work you shall have your money.' 
 
 The Working Classes accordingly set to work, and the 
 Capitalist Class sat down and watched them. As soon as they 
 had finished, they passed the nine little blocks of bread to Owen, 
 
 173
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 who placed them on a piece of paper by his side and paid the 
 workers their wages. 
 
 ' These blocks represent the necessaries of life. You can't 
 live without some of these things, but as they belong to me, 
 you will have to buy them from me. My price for these blocks 
 is one pound each.' 
 
 As the working classes were in need of the necessaries of 
 life and as they could not eat, drink or wear the useless money, 
 they were compelled to agree to the kind Capitalist's terms. 
 They each bought back and at once consumed one third of the 
 produce of their labour. The capitalist class also devoured two 
 of the square blocks, and so the net result of the week's work 
 was that the kind capitalist had consumed two pounds' worth of 
 the things produced by the labour of others, and reckoning 
 the squares at their market value of one pound each, he had 
 more than doubled his capital, for he still possessed the three 
 pounds in money and in addition four pounds' worth of goods. 
 As for the working classes, Philpot, Harlow and Easton, 
 having each consumed the pound's worth of necessaries they 
 had bought with their wages, they were again in precisely the 
 same condition as when they started work they had nothing. 
 
 This process was repeated several times : for each week's 
 work the producers were paid their wages. They kept on 
 working and spending all their earnings. The kind-hearted 
 Capitalist consumed twice as much as anyone of them and his 
 pile of wealth continually increased. In a little while reckon- 
 ing the little squares at their market value of one pound each 
 he was worth about one hundred pounds, and the working 
 classes were still in the same condition as when they began, 
 and were still tearing into their work as if their lives depended 
 upon it which they did. 
 
 After a while the rest of the crowd began to laugh, and 
 their merriment increased when the kind-hearted Capitalist, 
 just after having sold a pound's worth of necessaries to each of 
 his workers, suddenly took their tools the Machinery of Pro- 
 duction the knives away from them, and informed them that 
 as owing to Over Production all his store-houses were glutted 
 with the necessaries of life he had decided to close down the 
 works. 
 
 ' Well, and wot the bloody 'ell are we to do now ? ' demanded 
 Philpot. 
 
 'That's not my business,' replied the kind-hearted Capitalist. 
 
 174
 
 The Great Money Trick 
 
 ' I've paid you your wages, and provided you with Plenty of 
 Work for a long time past. I have no more work for you to 
 do at present. Come round again in a few months' time and 
 I'll see what I can do for you.' 
 
 'But what about the necessaries of life? ' demanded Harlow. 
 ' We must have something to eat.' 
 
 'Of course you must,' replied the Capitalist, affably, 'and 
 I shall be very pleased to sell you some.' 
 
 ' But we ain't got no bloody money ! ' 
 
 'Well, you can't expect me to give you my goods for 
 nothing ! You didn't work for me for nothing you know. I paid 
 you for your work and you should have saved something : you 
 should have been thrifty like me. Look how I have got on 
 by being thrifty ! ' 
 
 The unemployed looked blankly at each other, but the 
 crowd only laughed ; and then the three unemploj^ed began 
 to abuse the kind-hearted Capitalist, demanding that he 
 should give them some of the necessaries of life that he had 
 piled up in his warehouses, or to be allowed to work and pro- 
 duce some more for their own needs ; and they even threatened 
 to take some of the things by force if he did not comply with 
 their demands. But the kind-hearted Capitalist told them not 
 to be insolent, and spoke to them about honesty, and said if 
 they were not careful he would have their faces battered in 
 for them by the police, or if necessary he would call out the 
 military and have them shot down like dogs. 
 
 'Of course,' continued the kind-hearted Capitalist, 'if it 
 were not for foreign competition I should be able to sell these 
 things that you have made, and then I should be able to give 
 you plenty of work again. But until I have sold them to 
 somebody or other, or until I have used them myself, you will 
 have to remain idle.' 
 
 ' Well, this takes the bloody biskit, don't it ? ' said Harlow. 
 
 'The only thing as I can see for it,' said Philpot, mournfully, 
 'is to "ave a unemployed procession.' 
 
 'That's the idear,' said Harlow, arid the three began to 
 march about the room in Indian file, singing: 
 
 ' We've got no work to do-oo-oo ! 
 
 We've got no work to do-oo-oo ! 
 
 Just because we've been workin a dam sight too hard, 
 
 Now we've got no work to do.' 
 
 175
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 As they marched round, the crowd jeered at them and 
 made offensive remarks. 
 
 Crass said that anyone could see that they were a lot of 
 lazy, drunken loafers who had never done a fair day's work 
 in their lives and never intended to. 
 
 'We shan't never get nothing like this, you know,' said 
 Philpot. ' Let's try the religious dodge.' 
 
 'All right,' agreed Harlow, 'what shall we give 'em ? ' 
 
 ' I know ! ' cried Philpot after a moment's deliberation. ' " Let 
 my lower lights be burning " ; that always makes 'em part up.' 
 
 The three unemployed accordingly resumed their march 
 round the room singing mournfully and imitating the usual 
 whine of street-singers : 
 
 * Trim your fee-bil lamp me brith-er-in, 
 Some poor sail-er tempest torst, 
 Strugglin' 'ard to save the 'arb-er, 
 Hin the dark-niss may be lorst. 
 So let my lower lights be burning, 
 Send er gleam acrost the wave, 
 Some poor shipwrecked, struggling seaman, 
 You may rescue, you may save.' 
 
 ' Kind frens,' said Philpot, removing his cap and addressing 
 the crowd, ' we're hall honest British workin' men, but we've 
 been hout of work for the last twenty years on account of 
 foreign competition and over-production. We don't come hout 
 'ere because we're too lazy to work, it's because we can't get 
 a job. If it wasn't for foreign competition the kind-'earted 
 Hinglish capitalists would be able to sell their goods and 
 give us plenty of work, and if they could, I assure you that 
 we should hall be perfectly willing and contented to go on 
 workin' our guts out for the benefit of our masters for the 
 rest of our lives. We're quite willin' to work : that's hall we 
 arst for plenty of work but as we can't get it we're forced 
 to come out 'ere and arst you spare a few coppers towards a 
 crust of bread and a night's lodginV 
 
 As Philpot held out his cap for subscriptions some of them 
 attempted to expectorate into it, but the more charitable put 
 in pieces of cinder or the dirt from the floor, and the kind- 
 hearted Capitalist was so affected by the sight of their misery 
 that he gave them one of the sovereigns he had in his pocket, 
 but as this was no use to them they immediately returned it 
 
 I 7 6
 
 The Great Money Trick 
 
 to him in exchange for one of the small squares of the 
 necessities of life, which they divided and greedily devoured. 
 And when they had finished eating they gathered round the 
 philanthropist and sang " For he's a jolly good fellow," and 
 afterwards Harlow suggested that they should ask him if he 
 would allow them to elect him to Parliament. 
 
 M 177
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 THE REIGN OF TERROR 
 
 THE following morning Saturday the men went about their 
 work in gloomy silence ; there were but few attempts at con- 
 versation and no jests or singing. The terror of the impending 
 slaughter pervaded the house. Even those who were confident 
 of being spared and kept on till the job was finished, shared 
 the general depression, not only out of sympathy for the 
 doomed but because they knew that a similar fate was in 
 store for them a little later on. 
 
 They all waited anxiously for Nimrod to come, but hour 
 after hour dragged slowly by and he did not arrive. At half- 
 past eleven some of those who had made up their minds that 
 they were to be 'stood still,' began to hope that the slaugh- 
 ter was to be deferred for a few days. After all, there was 
 plenty of work still to be done ; even if all hands were kept 
 on, the job could scarcely be finished in another week. Any- 
 how, it would not be very long now before they would know 
 one way or the other. If he did not come before twelve it was 
 all right : all the hands were paid by the hour and were there- 
 fore entitled to an hour's notice. 
 
 Easton and Harlow were working together on the staircase, 
 finishing the doors and other woodwork with white enamel. 
 They had not been allowed to spend the time necessary to 
 prepare this work in a proper manner ; it had not been rubbed 
 down smooth or properly filled up, nor had a sufficient num- 
 ber of coats of paint been put on to make it solid white. The 
 consequence was the glossy enamel made the work look rather 
 rough and shady. 
 
 ' It ain't 'arf all right, ain't it ? ' remarked Harlow, sarcasti- 
 cally, indicating the door he had just finished. 
 
 Easton laughed : ' I can't understand how people pass such 
 work,' he said. 
 
 'Old Sweater did make some remark about it the other 
 
 178
 
 The Reign of Terror 
 
 day,' replied Harlow, 'and I heard Misery tell 'im it was im- 
 possible to make a perfect job of such old doors.' 
 
 1 1 believe that man's the biggest liar Gord ever made,' said 
 Easton ; an opinion in which Harlow entirely concurred. 
 
 ' I wonder what the time is ? ' said the latter after a pause. 
 
 'I don't know exactly/ replied Easton, 'but it can't be far 
 off twelve.' 
 
 ' 'E don't seem to be comin' does 'e ? ' Harlow continued. 
 
 ' No : and I shouldn't be surprised if 'e didn't turn up at 
 all, now. P'rap's 'e don't mean to stop nobody to-day after all.' 
 
 They spoke in hushed tones and glanced cautiously about 
 them, fearful of being heard or observed. 
 
 'This is a bloody life, ain't it?' Harlow said, bitterly. 
 ' We works our guts out like a lot of slaves for the benefit of 
 other people, and then as soon as they've done with you, 
 you're chucked aside like a dirty rag.' 
 
 ' Yes : and I begin to think that a great deal of what Owen 
 says is true. But for my part I can't see 'ow it's ever goin' to 
 be altered, can you ? ' 
 
 4 Blowed if I know, mate. But whether it can be altered or 
 not, there's one thing very certain ; it won't be done in our 
 time.' 
 
 Neither of them seemed to think that if the ' alteration ' they 
 spoke of were to be accomplished at all they themselves would 
 have to help to bring it about. 
 
 ' I wonder what they're doin' about the Venetian blinds ? ' 
 said Easton, 'is there anyone doin' 'em yet?' 
 
 ' I don't know ; ain't 'eard nothing about 'em since the boy 
 took 'em to the shop.' 
 
 There was quite a mystery about these blinds. About a 
 month ago they were taken to the paint shop down at the 
 ' yard ' to be re-painted and re-harnessed, and since then 
 nothing had been heard of them by the men working at the 
 ' Cave.' 
 
 ' P'raps a couple of us will be sent there to do 'em next 
 week,' remarked Harlow. 
 
 ' P'rap's so. Most likely they'll 'ave to be done in a bloody 
 'urry at the last minute.' 
 
 Presently Harlow who was very anxious to know what 
 time it was went downstairs to ask Slyme. It was twenty 
 minutes to twelve. 
 
 From the window of the room where Slyme was papering, 
 
 179
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 one could see into the front garden. Harlow paused a moment 
 to watch Bundy and the labourers who were still working in 
 the trenches at the drains, and as he looked out he saw Hunter 
 approaching the house. Harlow drew back hastily and return- 
 ed to his work, and as he went he passed the word to the 
 other men, warning them of the approach of Misery. 
 
 Hunter entered in his usual manner, and after crawling 
 quietly about the house for about ten minutes he went into 
 the drawing-room. 
 
 ' I see you're putting the finishing touches on at last,' he 
 said. 
 
 'Yes,' replied Owen. ' I've only got this bit of outlining to 
 do, now.' 
 
 'Ah, well, it looks very nice, of course,' said Misery, in a 
 voice of mourning, 'but we've lost money over it It's taken 
 you a week longer to do than we allowed for ; you said three 
 weeks and it's taken you a month ; and we only allowed for 
 fifteen books of gold, but you've been and used twenty-three.' 
 
 'You can hardly blame me for that, you know,' answered 
 Owen. ' I could have got it done in the three weeks, but Mr 
 Rushton told me not to hurry for the sake of a day or two, 
 because he wanted a good job. He said he would rather lose 
 a little over it than spoil it ; and as for the extra gold, that was 
 also his order.' 
 
 'Well, I suppose it can't be helped,' whined Misery. 'Any- 
 how, I'm very glad it's done, because this kind of work don't 
 pay. We'll 'ave you back on the brush on Monday morning ; 
 we want to get the outside done next week if it keeps fine.' 
 
 The 'brush' alluded to by Nimrod was the large 'pound' 
 brush used in ordinary painting. 
 
 Misery now began wandering about the house, in and out 
 of the rooms ; sometimes standing for several minutes silently 
 watching the hands as they worked. As he watched them the 
 men became nervous and awkward, each one dreading that 
 he might be one of those who were to be paid off at one 
 o'clock. 
 
 At about five minutes to twelve Hunter went down to the 
 paint shop the scullery where Crass was mixing some 
 colour, and getting ready some ' empties ' to be taken to the 
 yard. 
 
 ' I suppose the swine's gone to ask Crass which of us is the 
 least use,' whispered Harlow to Easton. 
 
 1 80
 
 The Reign of Terror 
 
 4 1 wouldn't be surprised if it was you and me, for two,' re- 
 plied the latter in the same tone ; ' you can't trust Crass, you 
 know, for all 'e seems so friendly to our faces. You never know 
 what 'e ses behind our backs.' 
 
 4 You may be sure it won't be Sawkins or any of the other 
 lightweights, because Nimrod won't want to pay us sixpence 
 ha'penny for painting guttering and rainpipes when they can 
 do it near enough for fourpence ha'penny and fivepence. 
 They won't be able to do the sashes, though, will they ? ' 
 
 4 1 don't know so much about that,' replied Easton ; 4 any- 
 thing seems to be good enough for Hunter.' 
 
 4 Look out ! 'ere 'e comes ! ' said Harlow, and they both re- 
 lapsed into silence and busied themselves with their work. 
 Misery stood watching them for some time without speaking, 
 and then went out of the house. They crept cautiously to the 
 window of a room that overlooked the garden and peeping 
 furtively out they saw him standing on the brink of one of the 
 trenches, moodily watching Bundy and his mates as they 
 toiled at the drains. Then, to their surprise and relief, he 
 turned and went out of the gate ! They just caught sight of 
 one of the wheels of his bicycle as he rode away. 
 
 The slaughter was evidently to be put off until next week ! 
 It seemed too good to be true. 
 
 'P'raps 'e's left a message for some of us with Crass?' 
 suggested Easton. 4 1 don't think it's likely, but it's just 
 possible.' 
 
 4 Well, I'm goin' down to ask 'im,' said Harlow, desperately. 
 4 We may as well know the worst at once.' 
 
 He returned in a few minutes with the information that 
 Hunter had decided not to stop anyone that day because he 
 wanted to get the outside finished during the next week, if 
 possible. 
 
 The hands received this intelligence with mixed feelings, 
 because although it left them safe for the present, it meant 
 that nearly everybody would certainly be stopped next Satur- 
 day, if not before ,- whereas if a few had been sacked to-day 
 it would have made it all the better for the rest. Still, this as- 
 pect of the business did not greatly interfere with the relief 
 they all felt at knowing that the immediate danger was over; 
 and the fact that it was Saturday pay day also served to 
 revive their drooping spirits. They all felt pretty certain that 
 Misery would return no more that day, and presently Harlow 
 
 181
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 began to sing the old favourite, ' Work ! for the night is com- 
 ing ! ', the refrain of which was soon taken up by nearly every- 
 one in the house : 
 
 * Work ! for the night is coming, 
 Work in the morning hours, 
 Work ! for the night is coming ! 
 Work 'mid springing flowers ! 
 
 Work while the dew is sparkling, 
 
 Work in the noonday sun ! 
 Work, for the night is coming, 
 
 When man's work is done ! ' 
 
 When this hymn was finished, someone else, imitating the 
 whine of a street singer, started ' Oh where is my wandering 
 boy to-night ? ', and then Harlow who by some strange 
 chance had a penny took it out of his pocket and dropped 
 it on the floor, the ringing of the coin being greeted with 
 shouts of ' Thank you, kind lady ' from several of the singers. 
 This little action of Harlow's was the means of bringing a 
 most extraordinary circumstance to light. Although it was 
 Saturday morning, several of the others had pennies or half- 
 pence, and at the conclusion of each verse they all followed 
 Harlow's example and the house resounded with the ringing 
 of falling coins, cries of ' Thank you, kind lady ', 'Thank you, 
 sir,' and 'Gord bless you,' mingled with shouts of laughter. 
 
 ' My wandering boy ' was followed by a choice selection of 
 choruses of well-known music hall songs, the whole being 
 tastefully varied and interspersed with howls, shrieks, curses, 
 and catcalls. 
 
 In the midst of the uproar Crass came upstairs. 
 
 1 'Ere ! ' he shouted, ' for Christ's sake make less row ! 
 Suppose Nimrod was to come back ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, 'e ain't comin' any more to-day,' said Harlow, reck- 
 lessly. 
 
 ' Besides, what if 'e does come ? ' cried Easton. ' 'Oo cares 
 for im ? ' 
 
 ' Well, we never know ; and for that matter Rushton or 
 Sweater might come at any minit.' 
 
 With this, Crass went muttering back to the scullery, and 
 the men relapsed into their usual silence. 
 
 182
 
 The Reign of Terror 
 
 At ten minutes to one they all ceased work, put away their 
 colours and locked up the house. There were a number of 
 'empties ' to be taken away and left at the yard on their way 
 to the office ; these Crass divided amongst the others carry- 
 ing nothing himself and then they all set out for the office 
 to get their money, cracking jokes as they went along. Harlow 
 and Easton enlivened the journey by coughing significantly 
 whenever they met a young woman, and audibly making some 
 complimentary remark about her personal appearance. If the 
 girl smiled, each of them eagerly claimed to have ' seen her 
 first,' but if she appeared offended or ' stuck up,' they suggest- 
 ed that she was cross-cut or that she had been eating vinegar 
 with a fork. Now and then they kissed their hands affection- 
 ately to servant girls whom they saw looking out of windows. 
 Some of these girls laughed, others looked indignant, but 
 whichever way they took it was equally amusing to Crass and 
 the rest, who were like a crowd of boys just let out of school. 
 
 It will be remembered that there was a back door to Rush- 
 ton's office ; in this door was a small sliding panel or trap- 
 door with a little shelf at the bottom. The men stood in the 
 road and on the pavement outside the closed door, their money 
 being passed out to them through the sliding panel. As there 
 was no shelter, when it rained they occasionally got wet 
 through while waiting to be paid. With some firms it is cus- 
 tomary to call out the names of the men and pay them in order 
 of seniority or ability, but there was no such system here ; 
 the man who got to the aperture first was paid first, and so 
 on. The result was that there was always a sort of miniature 
 ' Battle of Life,' the men pushing and struggling against each 
 other as if their lives depended upon their being paid by a 
 certain time. 
 
 After receiving their wages Crass, Easton, Bundy, Philpot, 
 Harlow and a few others adjourned to the 4 Cricketers ' for a 
 drink. Owen went away alone, and Slyme also went on by 
 himself. There was no use waiting for Easton to come out of 
 the public house because there was no knowing how long he 
 would be ; he might stay half an hour or two hours. On his 
 way Slyme called at the post office to bank some of his wages. 
 
 This transaction finished, he resumed his homeward way, 
 stopping only to purchase some sweets at a confectioner's. He 
 spent a whole sixpence at once in this shop on a glass jar of 
 sweets for the baby. 
 
 183
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 Ruth was not surprised when she saw him come in alone ; 
 it was the usual thing since Easton had become so friendly 
 with Crass. She made no reference to his absence, but Slyme 
 noticed with secret chagrin that she was annoyed and disap- 
 pointed. She was just finishing scrubbing the kitchen floor 
 and little Freddie was sitting up in a baby's high chair that 
 had a little shelf or table fixed in front of it. To keep him a- 
 mused while she did her work Ruth had given him a piece of 
 bread and raspberry jam which the child had rubbed all over 
 his face and into his scalp, and he now looked as if he had 
 been in a fight or a railway accident. 
 
 Freddie hailed the arrival of Slyme with enthusiasm, 
 being so overcome with emotion that he began to shed tears, 
 and was only pacified when the man gave him the jar of 
 sweets and took him out of the chair. 
 
 Slyme's presence in the house had not proved so irksome 
 as Easton and Ruth had expected. Indeed, at first, he made 
 a point of retiring to his own room after tea every 
 evening, until they invited him to stay downstairs in the 
 kitchen. Nearly every Wednesday and Saturday he went to 
 a meeting, or an open-air preaching, when the weather per- 
 mitted, for he was one of a little zealous band of people 
 connected with the Shining Light Chapel who carried on the 
 1 open-air' work all the year round. After awhile the Eastons 
 not only became reconciled to his presence in the house but 
 were even glad of it. Ruth especially would often have been 
 very lonely if he had not been there, for it had lately become 
 Easton's custom to spend a few evenings every week with 
 Crass at the ' Cricketers.' 
 
 When at home Slyme passed his time playing a mandoline 
 or making fretwork photo frames. Ruth had the baby's photo- 
 graph taken a few weeks after Slyme came, and the frame he 
 made for it was now one of the ornaments of the sitting-room. 
 The instinctive, unreasoning aversion she had at first felt for 
 him had in a measure passed away. He did her so many 
 little services that she found it impossible to altogether dis- 
 like him. At first, she used to address him as ' Mr,' but after 
 a time she fell naturally into Easton's practice of calling him 
 by his Christian name. 
 
 As for the baby, he made no secret of his affection for the 
 lodger, who nursed and played with him for hours at a stretch. 
 
 ' I'll serve your dinner now, Alf,' said Ruth, when she had 
 
 184
 
 The Reign of Terror 
 
 finished scrubbing the floor, ' but I'll wait for mine for a 
 little while. Will may come.' 
 
 ' I'm in no hurry,' replied Slyme, ' I'll go and have a wash ; 
 he may be here by then.' 
 
 As he spoke, Slyme who had been sitting by the fire 
 nursing the baby put the child back into the high chair, 
 giving him one of the sticks of sweets out of the jar to keep 
 him quiet, and went upstairs to his own room. He came down 
 again in about a quarter of an hour, and Ruth proceeded to 
 serve his dinner, for Easton was still absent. 
 
 'If I was you I wouldn't wait for Will,' said Slyme. 'He 
 may not come for another hour or two. It's after two o'clock 
 now, and I'm sure you must be hungry.' 
 
 4 1 suppose I may as well have my dinner,' replied Ruth 
 hesitatingly ; ' he'll most likely get some bread and cheese at 
 the " Cricketers," same as he did last Saturday.' 
 
 4 Almost sure to,' responded Slyme. 
 
 The baby had had his face washed while Slyme was up- 
 stairs. Directly he saw his mother eating he threw away the 
 sugarstick and began to cry, holding out his arms to her. 
 She had to take him on her lap whilst she ate her dinner, and 
 feed him with pieces from her plate. 
 
 Slyme talked all the time, principally about the child. He 
 was very fond of children, he said, and always got on well 
 with them, but he had really never known such an intelligent 
 child for his age as Freddie. His fellow-workmen would 
 have been astonished had they been present to hear him 
 talking about the shape of the baby's head. They would have 
 been astonished at the amount of knowledge he appeared to 
 possess of the science of Phrenology. Ruth, at anyrate, 
 thought he was very clever. 
 
 After a time the child began to grow fretful and refused to 
 eat ; when his mother gave him a fresh piece of sugar-stick 
 out of the jar he threw it peevishly on the floor and began to 
 whimper, rubbing his face against his mother's bosom and 
 pulling at her dress with his hands. When Slyme first came 
 Ruth had made a practice of withdrawing from the room if 
 he happened to be present when she wanted to nurse the 
 child, but lately she had been less sensitive. She was sitting 
 with her back to the window and she partly covered the 
 baby's face with a light shawl that she wore. By the time 
 they finished dinner the child had dozed off to sleep. Slyme 
 
 185
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 got up from his chair and stood with his back to the fire, 
 looking down at them. Presently he spoke, referring, of course 
 to the baby : 
 
 ' He's very like you, isn't he ? ' 
 
 4 Yes,' replied Ruth, ' everyone says he takes after me.' 
 
 Slyme moved a little closer, beftding down to look at the 
 slumbering infant. 
 
 ' You know, at first I thought he was a girl, ' he continued after 
 a pause. ' He seems almost too pretty for a boy, doesn't he ? ' 
 
 Ruth smiled. 'People always take him for a girl at first/ 
 she said. ' Yesterday I took him with me to the Monopole 
 Stores to buy some things, and the manager would hardly 
 believe it wasn't a girl.' 
 
 The man reached out his hand and stroked the baby's face. 
 
 Although Slyme's behaviour had hitherto always been very 
 correct, yet there was occasionally an indefinable something 
 in his manner when they were alone that made Ruth feel 
 conscious and embarrassed. Now, as she glanced up at him 
 and saw the expression on his face she crimsoned with con- 
 fusion and hastily lowered her eyes without replying to his 
 last remark. He did not speak again either, and they remained 
 for several minutes in silence, as if spellbound, Ruth oppressed 
 with instinctive dread, and Slyme scarcely less agitated, his 
 face flushed and his heart beating wildly. He trembled as he 
 stood over her, hesitating and afraid. 
 
 And then the silence was suddenly broken by the creaking 
 and clanging of the front gate, heralding the tardy coming of 
 Easton. Slyme went out into the scullery and taking down 
 the blacking brushes from the shelf began cleaning his boots. 
 
 It was plain from Easton's appearance and manner that 
 he had been drinking, but Ruth did not reproach him in any 
 way ; on the contrary she seemed almost feverishly anxious 
 to attend to his comfort. 
 
 When Slyme finished cleaning his boots he went upstairs 
 to his room, receiving a careless greeting from Easton as he 
 passed through the kitchen. He felt nervous and apprehensive 
 that Ruth might say something to Easton, and was not quite 
 able to reassure himself with the reflection that after all, 
 there was nothing to tell. As for Ruth, she had to postpone 
 the execution of her hastily formed resolution to tell her 
 husband of Slyme's strange behaviour, for Easton fell asleep in 
 his chair before he had finished his dinner, and she had some 
 
 1 86
 
 The Reign of Terror 
 
 difficulty in waking him sufficiently to persuade him to go 
 upstairs to bed, where he remained until tea-time. Probably 
 he would not have come down even then if it had not been 
 for the fact that he had made an appointment to meet Crass 
 at the 'Cricketers.' 
 
 Whilst Easton was asleep, Slyme had been downstairs in 
 the kitchen, making a fretwork frame. He played with Freddie 
 while Ruth prepared the tea, and he appeared to her to be so 
 unconscious of having done anything unusual that she began 
 to think that she must have been mistaken in imagining that 
 he had intended anything wrong. 
 
 After tea Slyme put on his best clothes to go to his usual 
 1 open air ' meeting. As a rule Easton and Ruth went out 
 marketing together every Saturday night, but this evening 
 he could not wait for her because he had promised to meet 
 Crass at seven o'clock ; so he arranged to see her down town 
 at eight. 
 
 is?
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 THE 'OPEN AIR' 
 
 EVER since Owen had been engaged in the decoration of the 
 drawing room, he had forgotten he was ill ; he had forgotten 
 that when 'The Cave' was finished he would have to stand 
 off with the rest of the hands ; in fact he had forgotten that, 
 like them, he was on the brink of destitution and that a few 
 weeks out of work or illness meant starvation. 
 
 As he walked homewards after being paid, a feeling of un- 
 utterable depression came over him and he began to think of 
 his future. Even supposing he did not lose his employment, 
 what was there to live for ? He had been working with hand 
 and brain all the week. These few coins he held were the 
 result, and he laughed bitterly as he thought of all he must 
 do with the money, and all he must leave undone. 
 
 That evening Frankie accompanied him to do the shopping 
 as Nora was not well, and first of all the boy, remembering 
 his pet, went to the butcher's to buy a pennyworth of cat's 
 meat, while Owen went to the grocer's, arranging to meet 
 Frankie at the corner of the street. 
 
 Owen was at the appointed place first and after waiting 
 some time and seeing no sign of the boy decided to go to- 
 wards the butcher's to meet him. When he came in sight of 
 the shop he saw the boy standing outside in earnest conversa- 
 tion with the butcher, a jolly looking, stoutly built man, with 
 a very red face. Owen perceived at once that the child was 
 trying to explain something, because Frankie had a habit of 
 holding his head sideways and supplementing his speech by 
 spreading out his fingers and making quaint gestures with 
 his hands whenever he found it difficult to make himself 
 understood. The boy was doing this now, waving one hand 
 about with the fingers and thumb extended wide, and with 
 the other flourishing a paper parcel which evidently contained 
 the pieces of meat. Presently the man laughed heartily and 
 
 188
 
 The 'Open Air 9 
 
 after shaking hands with the boy went into the shop to attend 
 to a customer, while Frankie rejoined his father. 
 
 'That butcher's a very decent sort of chap, you know, Dad,' 
 he said ; ' he wouldn't take the penny for the meat.' 
 
 ' Is that what you were talking to him about ? ' 
 
 ' No ; we were talking about Socialism. You see, this is the 
 second time he wouldn't take the money, and the first time he 
 did it I thought he must be a Socialist, but I didn't ask him 
 then. But when he did it again this time I asked him if he 
 was. So he said, No. He said he wasn't quite mad yet. So I 
 said : " If you think that Socialists are all mad, you're very 
 much mistaken, because I'm a Socialist myself, and I'm quite 
 sure I'm not mad." So he said he knew I was all right, but 
 he didn't understand anything about Socialism himself only 
 that it meant sharing out all the money so that everyone could 
 have the same. So then I told him that's not Socialism at all ! 
 And when I explained it to him properly and advised him to 
 be one, he said he'd think about it. So I said if he'd only do 
 that he'd be sure to change over to our side. And then he 
 laughed and promised to let me know next time he sees me, 
 and I promised to lend him some papers. You won't mind, 
 will you, Dad ? ' 
 
 1 Of course not ; when we get home we'll have a look through 
 what we've got and you can take him some of them.' 
 
 As he walked through the crowded streets holding Frankie 
 by the hand, the terror of the future once more possessed 
 Owen's mind, and he felt that the frail little figure trotting by 
 his side would never be fit to be a soldier in this ferocious 
 Battle of Life, and that to allow him to grow up and suffer 
 in his turn would be an act of callous criminal cruelty. He 
 thought of Nora, always brave, always uncomplaining, though 
 her life was one of incessant physical suffering. As for himself 
 he was tired and sick of it all. He had worked like a slave all 
 his life, and there was nothing to show for it there never 
 would be anything to show for it. Although it was December 
 the evening was mild and clear, the full moon deluged the 
 town with a silvery light, and the sky was cloudless. Looking 
 into the unfathomable space above, Owen wondered what 
 manner of Being or Power it was that had thus ordered 
 the destiny of his creatures, and longed for something to 
 believe in for some hope for the future for some compen- 
 sation for misery and suffering. 
 
 189
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 ' Dad,' said Frankie, suddenly, ' let's go over and hear what 
 that man's saying.' He pointed across the way to where, a 
 little distance back from the main road, a group of people 
 were standing round a large lantern fixed on the top of a pole. 
 A bright light was burning inside this lantern, and on the 
 panes of white obscured glass which formed the sides, was 
 written in bold plain letters the text : 
 
 ' Be not deceived : God is not mocked ! ' 
 
 The man whose voice had attracted Frankie's attention was 
 reading a verse of a hymn : 
 
 ' I heard the voice of Jesus say, 
 " Behold, I freely give 
 The living water, thirsty one, 
 
 Stoop down, and drink, and live " : 
 I came to Jesus, and I drank 
 Of that life-giving stream ; 
 My thirst was quenched, 
 
 My soul revived, 
 And now I live in Him.' 
 
 As Owen and Frankie drew near, the boy tugged at his 
 father's hand and whispered : ' Dad ! that man is the teacher 
 at the Sunday School where I went that day with Charley and 
 Elsie.' 
 
 Owen looked quickly and saw that it was Hunter. 
 
 As soon as the reading ceased, the little company of 
 evangelists began to sing, accompanied by the strains of a 
 small but peculiarly sweet-toned organ. A few persons 
 in the crowd joined in, the words being familiar to them. 
 During the singing their faces were a study, they looked as 
 solemn and miserable as a gang of condemned criminals 
 waiting to be led forth to execution. The greater number 
 of the people standing around appeared to be listening 
 more out of idle curiosity than anything else, and two well 
 dressed young men, evidently strangers and visitors to the 
 town, amused themselves by making audible remarks about 
 the texts on the lantern. There was also a shabbily dressed, 
 semi-drunken man in a battered bowler hat who stood on the 
 inner edge of the crowd, almost in the ring itself, with folded 
 arms and an expression of scorn on his thin, pale face. He 
 had a large high-bridge nose, and bore a striking resemblance 
 
 190
 
 The '-Open Air 9 
 
 to the first Duke of Wellington. As the singing proceeded, 
 the scornful expression faded from the visage of the Semi- 
 Drunk, and he not only joined in, but unfolded his arms and 
 began waving them about as if he were conducting the music. 
 
 By the time the singing was over a considerable crowd had 
 gathered, and then Hunter stepped into the middle of the ring. 
 He had evidently been offended by the unseemly conduct of the 
 two well-dressed young men, for after a preliminary glance 
 round upon the crowd, he fixed his gaze upon the pair, and 
 immediately launched out upon a long tirade against what he 
 called ' Infidelity.' Then, having heartily denounced all those 
 who, as he put it, ' refused ' to believe, he proceeded to ridicule 
 those half-and-half believers who, while professing to believe 
 the Bible, rejected the doctrine of Hell, and finally proved 
 the existence of a place of eternal torture by a long succes- 
 sion of texts. As he proceeded the contemptuous laughter of 
 the two unbelievers made him very excited. He shouted and 
 raved, literally foaming at the mouth and glaring in a frenzied 
 manner around, upon the faces of the crowd, 
 
 'There is a hell ! ' he shouted. 'And understand this clearly : 
 "The wicked shall be turned into hell "; "He that believeth 
 not shall be damned ! " 
 
 ' Well, then, you'll stand a very good chance of being 
 damned also,' exclaimed one of the two young men. 
 
 4 'Ow do you make it out ? ' demanded Hunter, wiping the 
 froth from his lips and the perspiration from his forehead 
 with his handkerchief. 
 
 ' Why, because you don't believe the Bible yourselves.' 
 
 Nimrod and the other evangelists laughed, and looked 
 pityingly at the young man. 
 
 'Ah, my dear brother,' said Misery, 'that's your delusion. 
 I thank God I do believe it, every word ! ' 
 
 'Amen,' fervently ejaculated Sly me and several of the 
 other disciples. 
 
 'Oh no you don't,' replied the other, 'and I can prove 
 you don't.' 
 
 ' Prove it then,' said Nimrod. 
 
 ' Read out the seventeenth and eighteenth verses of the 
 sixteenth chapter of Mark,' said the disturber of the meeting. 
 The crowd began to close in on the centre, the better to hear 
 the dispute. Misery, standing close to the lantern, found the 
 verse mentioned and read aloud as follows : 
 
 191
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 ' And these signs shall follow them that believe. In my name shall 
 they cast out devils ; they shall speak with new tongues ; they shall 
 take up serpents ; and if they drink any deadly thing it shall not 
 hurt them ; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover.' 
 
 1 Well, you can't heal the sick, neither can you speak new 
 languages or cast out devils ; but perhaps you can drink 
 deadly things without suffering harm.' The speaker here 
 suddenly drew from his waistcoat pocket a small glass bottle 
 and held it out towards Misery, who shrank from it with 
 horror, as he continued : ' I have here a most deadly poison. 
 There is in this bottle sufficient strychnine to kill a dozen 
 unbelievers. Drink it ! If it doesn't harm you we'll know that 
 you really are a believer and that what you believe is the 
 truth ! ' 
 
 ' 'Ear, 'ear ! ' said the Semi-Drunk, who had listened to the 
 progress of the argument with great interest, ' 'Ear, 'ear ! 
 that's fair enough. Git it acrost yer chest.' 
 
 Some of the people in the crowd began to laugh, and voices 
 were heard from several quarters calling upon Misery to 
 drink the strychnine. 
 
 ' Now, if you'll allow me, I'll explain to you what that 
 there verse means,' said Hunter. ' If you read it carefully 
 with the context ' 
 
 'I don't want you to tell me what it means,' interrupted 
 the other. ' I am able to read for myself. Whatever you may 
 say, or pretend to think it means, I know what it says.' 
 
 4 Hear, hear ! ' shouted several voices and angry cries of 
 4 Why don't you drink the poison ? ' began to be heard from 
 the outskirts of the crowd. 
 
 ' Are you going to drink it or not ? ' demanded the man 
 with the bottle. 
 
 ' No ! I'm not such a fool ! ' retorted Misery, fiercely, and 
 a loud shout of laughter broke from the crowd. 
 
 1 Pr'aps some of the other "believers" would like to,' said 
 the young man scornfully, looking round upon the disciples. 
 As no one seemed desirous of availing himself of this offer, 
 the man returned the bottle regretfully to his pocket. 
 
 'I suppose,' said Misery, regarding the owner of the 
 strychnine with a sneer, ' I suppose you're one of them there 
 hired critics wot's goin' about the country doin' the devil's 
 work ? ' 
 
 192
 
 The 'Open Air' 
 
 ' Wot I wants to know is this 'ere,' said the Semi-Drunk, 
 suddenly advancing into the middle of the ring and speaking 
 in a loud voice : ' Where did Cain get 'is wife from ? ' 
 
 4 Don't answer 'im, Brother 'Unter,' said Mr Didlum, one 
 of the disciples. This was rather an unnecessary piece of 
 advice, because Misery was not in a position to do so. 
 
 An individual in a long black garment the ' minister ' 
 now whispered something to Miss Didlum, who was seated 
 at the organ, whereupon she began to play, and the 'believers ' 
 began to sing : ' Oh that will be, Glory for me,' as loud as 
 they could so as to drown the voices of the disturbers of the 
 meeting. 
 
 After this hymn the ' minister ' invited a shabbily dressed 
 'brother' a working man member of the P.S.A. to say 'a 
 few words,' and the latter accordingly stepped into the centre 
 of the ring and held forth as follows : 
 
 1 My dear frens, I thank Gord to-night that I can stand 
 'ere to-night, hout in the hopen hair and tell hall you dear 
 people to-night of hall wot's been done for me. Ho my dear 
 frens hi ham so glad to-night as I can stand 'ere to-night and 
 say as hall my sins is hunder the blood to-night and wot 'E's 
 done for me 'Ecan do for you to-night, if you'll honly do as I 
 done and just acknowledge yourself a lost sinner 
 
 ' Yes ! that's the honly way ! ' shouted Nimrod. 
 
 'Amen,' cried all the other believers. 
 
 If you'll honly come to 'im to-night hin the same way 
 as I done you'll see that wot 'E's done for me 'E can do for 
 you. Ho, my dear frens, don't go on puttin of it orf from day 
 to day like a door turnin' on its 'inges, don't go putting of it 
 orf to some more convenient time because you may never 
 'ave another chance. 'Im that bein' orfen reproved 'ardeneth 
 'is neck shall be suddently cut orf and that without remedy ! 
 Ho come to 'im to-night for 'is name's sake and to 'im we'll 
 give hall the glory. Amen.' 
 
 'Amen,' said the believers, fervently, and then the man 
 who was dressed in the long garment entreated all those who 
 were not yet true believers and doers of the Word to join 
 earnestly and meaningly in the singing of the closing hymn, 
 which he was about to read out to them. 
 
 The Semi-Drunk obligingly conducted as before, and the 
 crowd faded away with the last notes of the music. 
 
 N 193
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 RUTH 
 
 ONE evening, Crass and Slyme met by appointment at the 
 corner of the street, and proceeded on their way down town. 
 It was about half past six o'clock ; the shops and streets were 
 brilliantly lighted, and as they went along they saw numerous 
 groups of men talking together in a listless way. Most of them 
 were artizans and labourers out of employment and evidently 
 in no great hurry to go home. Some of them had neither tea 
 nor fire to go to, and stayed away from home as long as pos- 
 sible so as not to be compelled to look upon the misery of 
 those who were waiting for them there. Others hung about 
 hoping against all probability that they might even yet al- 
 though it was so late hear of some job about to be started 
 somewhere or other. 
 
 As they passed one of these groups they recognised and 
 nodded to Newman and old Jack Linden, and the former left 
 the others and came m> and walked along with them. 
 
 4 Anything fresh in, Bob ? ' he asked. 
 
 4 No ; we ain't got 'ardly anything,' replied Crass. 4 1 reckon 
 we shall finish up at " The Cave " next week, and then I sup- 
 pose we shall all be stood orf. We've got several plumbers on, 
 and I believe there's a little gasfitting work in, but next to 
 nothing in our line.' 
 
 4 1 suppose you don't know of any other firm what's got 
 anything ? ' 
 
 4 No ; I don't, mate. Between you and me I don't think any 
 of 'em has ; they're all in about the same fix.' 
 
 4 I've not done anything since I left, you know,' said 
 Newman, 4 and we've just about got as far as we can get, at 
 home.' 
 
 Slyme and Crass said nothing in reply to this. They wished 
 that Newman would take himself off, because they did not 
 want him to know where they were going. 
 
 194
 
 Ruth 
 
 However, Newman continued to accompany them, and an 
 awkward silence succeeded. 
 
 He seemed to wish to say something more, and they both 
 guessed what it was. So they walked along as rapidly as 
 possible in order not to give him any encouragement. At last 
 Newman blurted out : 
 
 ' I suppose you don't happen either of you to have a 
 tanner you could lend me ? I'll let you have it back when I 
 get a job.' 
 
 ' I ain't, mate,' replied Crass. ' I'm sorry ; if I 'ad one on me 
 you should 'ave it, with pleasure.' 
 
 Slyme also expressed his regret that he had no money 
 with him, and at the corner of the next street Newman 
 ashamed of having asked wished them good night, and 
 went away. 
 
 Slyme and Crass hurried along and presently arrived at 
 Rushton and Company's shop. The windows were lit up with 
 electric light, displaying an assortment of wallpapers, gas and 
 electric light fittings, glass shades, globes, tins of enamel, 
 paint and varnish. There were also several framed show- 
 cards ' Estimates Free,' ' First Class Work Only at Moder- 
 ate Charges ', ' Only First Class Workmen Employed,' and 
 others of the same type. On one side wall of the window was 
 a large, shield shaped board, covered with black velvet, on 
 which a number of brass fittings for coffins were arranged. 
 The shield was on an oak mount with the inscription : 
 1 Funerals conducted on modern principles.' 
 
 Slyme waited outside while Crass went in. Mr Budd, the 
 shopman, was down at the far end near the glazed partition 
 which separated Mr Rushton's office from the front shop. As 
 Crass entered, Budd a pale-faced, unhealthy looking, un- 
 dersized youth about twenty years of age looked round 
 and, with a grimace, motioned him to walk softly. Crass 
 paused, wondering what the other meant, but the shopman 
 beckoned him to advance, grinning and winking and jerking 
 his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the office. Crass 
 hesitated, fearing that possibly the miserable Budd had gone 
 or been driven out of his mind ; but as the latter continued 
 to beckon and grin and point towards the office, he screwed 
 up his courage and followed him behind one of the show-cases, 
 and found that by peeping through a crack in the woodwork 
 of the partition indicated by Budd, he could see Mr Rushton 
 
 195
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 in the act of kissing and embracing Miss Wade, the young 
 lady clerk. Crass watched them for some time and then whis- 
 pered to Budd to call Slyme, and when the latter came they 
 all three took turns at peeping through the crack in the 
 partition. 
 
 When they had looked their fill they came out from behind 
 the showcase, almost bursting with suppressed merriment. 
 Budd reached down a key from where it was hanging 
 on the wall and gave it to Crass and the two resumed 
 their interrupted journey. But before they had proceeded a 
 dozen yards from the shop, they were accosted by a short, 
 elderly man, with grey hair and a beard. This man looked 
 about sixty-five years of age, and was very shabbily dressed. 
 The elbows of his coat were worn threadbare, the ends of his 
 sleeves and the legs of his trousers were frayed and ragged 
 and his boots were patched, broken, and down at heel. This 
 man's name was Latham ; he was a Venetian blind maker and 
 repairer. With his son, he was supposed to be ' in business ' on 
 his own account, but as most of their work was done ' for the 
 trade,' that is, for such firms as Rushton and Company, they 
 would be more correctly described as men who did piecework 
 at home. He had been ' in business ' as he called it for about 
 forty years, working, working, always working ; and ever 
 since his son became old enough to labour, he had helped his 
 father in the philanthropic task of manufacturing profits for 
 the sweaters who employed them. They had been so busy 
 working for the benefit of others, that they had overlooked 
 the fact that they were only earning a bare living for them- 
 selves ; and now, after forty years' hard labour, the old man 
 was clothed in rags and on the verge of destitution. 
 
 ' Is Rushton there ? ' he asked. 
 
 4 Yes, I think so,' replied Crass, attempting to pass on ; but 
 the old man detained him. 
 
 ' He promised to let us know about them blinds for " The 
 Cave." We gave 'im a price for 'em about a month ago. In 
 fact we gave 'im two prices, because he said the first was too 
 high. Five and six a set I asked 'im, take 'em right through 
 the 'ole 'ouse one with another, big and little. Two coats of 
 paint, and new tapes and cords. That wasn't too much, 
 was it ? ' 
 
 * No, 'said Crass, walking on, ' that was cheap enough ! ' 
 
 1 He said it was too much,' continued Latham ; 'said as 'e 
 
 196
 
 Ruth 
 
 could get 'em done cheaper ! But I say as no one can't do it 
 and make a living.' 
 
 As he walked along, talking, between Crass and Slyme, the 
 old man became very excited. 
 
 4 But we 'adn't nothing to do to speak of, so my son told 
 'im we'd do 'em for five bob a set, and 'e said 'e'd let us know, 
 but we ain't 'card nothing from 'im yet, so I thought I'd try 
 and see 'im to-night.' 
 
 ' Well, you'll find 'im in there now,' said Slyme, with a 
 peculiar look, and walking faster. ' Good night.' 
 
 ' I won't take 'em on for no less ! ' cried the old man as he 
 turned back. 'I've got my livin' to get, and my son's got 'is 
 wife and little 'uns to keep. We can't work for nothing ! ' 
 
 4 Certainly not,' said Crass, glad to get away at last. 4 Good 
 night, and good luck to you.' 
 
 As soon as they were out of hearing they both burst out 
 laughing at the old man's vehemence. 
 
 4 Seemed quite upset about it,' said Slyme ; and they laugh- 
 ed again. 
 
 They now left the main road and pursued their way through 
 a number of badly lighted, mean looking streets, and finally 
 turning down a kind of alley, arrived at their destination. On 
 one side of this street was a row of small houses ; facing these 
 were a number of buildings of a miscellaneous description 
 sheds and stables ; and beyond these a plot of waste ground 
 on which could be seen, looming weirdly through the dusk, a 
 number of empty carts and waggons with their shafts resting 
 on the ground or reared up into the air. Threading their way 
 carefully through the mud pools of water and rubbish which 
 covered the ground, they arrived at a large gate fastened with 
 a padlock. Applying the key, Crass swung back the gate and 
 they found themselves in a yard filled with building materials 
 and plant : ladders, huge trestles, planks and beams of wood, 
 hand-carts and wheelbarrows, heaps of sand and mortar and 
 innumerable other things that assumed strange fantastic 
 shapes in the semi-darkness. And over all rose a gloomy, in- 
 distinct and shapeless mass, the buildings and sheds that 
 comprised Rushton and Company's workshops. 
 
 Crass struck a match, and Slyme, stooping down, drew a 
 key from a crevice in the wall near one of the doors, which 
 he unlocked, and they entered. Crass struck another match 
 and lit the gas at a jointed bracket fixed to the wall. This 
 
 197
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 was the paint shop. At one end was a fireplace without a 
 grate but with an iron bar fixed across the blackened chimney 
 for the purpose of suspending pails or pots over the fire, 
 which was usually made of wood on the hearthstone. All round 
 the walls of the shop which had once been whitewashed 
 but were now covered with smears of paint of every colour 
 where the men had ' rubbed out ' their brushes were rows 
 of shelves, filled with kegs of paint. In front of the window 
 was a long bench covered with an untidy litter of dirty paint 
 pots including several earthenware mixing vessels or mortars, 
 the sides of these being thickly coated with dried paint. 
 Scattered about the stone floor were a number of dirty pails, 
 either empty or containing stale whitewash ; and standing on 
 a sort of low platform or shelf at one end of the shop were 
 four large round tanks fitted with taps and labelled ' Boiled 
 Oil', 'Turps', 'Linseed Oil' and 'Turps Substitute.' The 
 lower parts of the walls were discoloured with moisture. The 
 atmosphere was cold and damp and foul with the sickening 
 odours of the poisonous materials. 
 
 It was in this place that Bert the apprentice spent 
 most of his time cleaning out pots and pails, during slack 
 periods when there were no jobs going on outside. 
 
 In the middle of the shop, under a two armed gas pendant, 
 was another table or bench, also thickly coated with old dried 
 paint, and by the side of this were two large stands on which 
 some of the lathes of the Venetian blinds belonging to 'The 
 Cave,' which Crass and Slyme were painting piecework 
 in their spare time, were hanging up to dry. The remainder 
 of the lathes were leaning against the walls or piled in stacks 
 on the table. 
 
 Crass shivered with cold as he lit the two gas jets. ' Make 
 a bit of a fire, Alf," he said, ' while I gets the colour ready.' 
 
 Slyme went outside and presently returned with his arms 
 full of old wood, which he smashed up and threw into the 
 fireplace ; then he took an empty paint pot and filled it with 
 turpentine from the big tank and emptied it over the wood. 
 Amongst the pots on the mixing bench he found one full of 
 old paint, and he threw this over the wood also, and in a few 
 minutes he had made a roaring fire. 
 
 Meantime, Crass had prepared the paint and brushes and 
 had taken down the lathes from the drying frames. The two 
 men now proceeded with the painting of the blinds, working 
 
 198
 
 Ruth 
 
 rapidly, each lathe being hung on the wires of the drying 
 frame after being painted. They talked freely as they worked, 
 having no fear of being overheard by Rushton or Nimrod. 
 This job was piecework, so it didn't matter whether they 
 talked or not. They waxed hilarious over Old Latham's dis- 
 comfiture and wondered what he would say if he could see 
 them now. Then the conversation drifted to the subject of the 
 private characters of the other men who were employed by 
 Rushton and Company, and an impartial listener would 
 have been forced to come to the conclusion that Crass and 
 Slyme were the only two decent fellows on the firm. There 
 was something wrong or shady about everybody else. There 
 was that Sawkins. He was no class whatever. It was a well- 
 known fact that he used to go round to Misery's house nearly 
 every night to tell him every little thing that had happened 
 on the job during the day ! As for Payne, the foreman carpenter, 
 the man was a perfect fool : he'd find out the difference if ever 
 he got the sack from Rush ton's and went to work for some 
 other firm ! He didn't understand his trade, and he couldn't 
 make a coffin properly to save his life ! Then there was that 
 rotter Owen ; there was a bright specimen for yer ! An atheist ! 
 Didn't believe in no God or devil nor nothing else. A pretty 
 state of things there would be if these Socialists could have 
 their own way : for one thing, nobody would be allowed to 
 work overtime ! 
 
 Crass and Slyme worked and talked in this manner till ten 
 o'clock, and then they extinguished the fire by throwing some 
 water on it, put out the gas and locked up the shop and the 
 yard, dropping the key of the latter into the letter box at 
 Rushton's office on their way home. 
 
 When Saturday arrived the men working at ' The Cave ' 
 were again surprised that nobody was sacked, and they were 
 divided in opinion as to the reason, some thinking that 
 Nimrod was determined to keep them all on till the job was 
 finished, so as to get it done as quickly as possible, and others 
 boldly asserting the truth of a rumour that had been going 
 about for several days that the firm had another big job in. 
 Mr Sweater had bought another house ; Rushton had to do 
 it up, and they were all to be kept on to start this other work 
 as soon as 'The Cave' was finished. Crass knew no more 
 
 199
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 than anyone else and he maintained a discreet silence, but the 
 fact that he did not contradict the rumour served to strengthen 
 it. The only foundation that existed for this report was that 
 Rushton and Misery had been seen looking over the garden 
 gate of a large empty house near 'The Cave.' But although 
 it had such an insignificant beginning the rumour had grown 
 and increased in detail and importance day by day. That very 
 morning at breakfast time the man on the pail had announced 
 that he had heard on the very best authority that Mr Sweater 
 had sold all his interest in the great business which bore his 
 name and was about to retire into private life, and that he 
 intended to buy up all the house property in the neighbour- 
 hood of 'The Cave.' Another individual one of the new 
 hands said that he had heard someone else, in a public 
 house, say that Rushton was about to marry one of Sweater's 
 daughters, and that Sweater intended to give the couple a 
 house to live in, as a wedding present ; but the fact that 
 Rushton was already married and the father of four children 
 rather knocked the bottom out of this story, so it was regret- 
 fully dismissed. Whatever the reason, the fact remained that 
 nobody had been discharged, and when pay time arrived they 
 set out for the office in high spirits. 
 
 That evening, the weather being fine, Slyme changed his 
 clothes and departed to his Saturday night ' open air meet- 
 ing ' ; but Easton, although he had now made a habit of spend- 
 ing all his spare time at the ' Cricketers,' promised to wait for 
 Ruth and go with her to do the marketing. The baby was left 
 at home alone, asleep in the cradle. 
 
 By the time they had made all their purchases they had a 
 fairly heavy load, Easton carrying the meat and the string 
 bag containing the potatoes and other vegetables, and Ruth 
 hugging the groceries. On their way home they had to pass 
 the 'Cricketers,' and just before they reached that part of 
 their journey they met Mr and Mrs Crass, also out market- 
 ing, who insisted on Easton and Ruth going in to have a 
 drink with them. Ruth did not want to go but she allowed 
 herself to be persuaded, for she could see that Easton was 
 beginning to get angry with her for refusing. Crass had on 
 a new overcoat and a new hat, with dark grey trousers and 
 yellow boots, and a 'stand up' collar with a bright blue tie. 
 His wife a fat, vulgar-looking, well-preserved woman about 
 forty was arrayed in a dark red costume, with hat to match. 
 
 2OO
 
 Ruth 
 
 Both Easton and Ruth whose best clothes had been pawned 
 to raise the money to pay the poor rate felt very mean and 
 shabby beside them. 
 
 When they arrived in the bar, Crass paid for the first round 
 of drinks. A pint of Old Six for himself; the same for Easton ; 
 half a pint for Mrs Easton and threepenny worth of gin for 
 Mrs Crass. 
 
 The Besotted Wretch was there, just finishing a game of 
 hooks and rings with the Semi-Drunk who had propitiated 
 the Old Dear by calling round, the day after he was thrown 
 out, to apologise for his conduct, and had since become a 
 regular customer. Philpot was absent. He had been there 
 that afternoon, so the Old Dear said, but he had gone home 
 about five o'clock, but he was almost sure to look in again in 
 the course of the evening. 
 
 Although the house was not nearly so full as it would have 
 been in better times, there was a large number of customers, 
 for the 'Cricketers' was one of the most popular houses 
 in the town. Many of the seats in the public bar were 
 occupied by women, some young and accompanied by their 
 husbands, some old and evidently sodden with drink. 
 
 In one corner of the public bar, drinking beer or gin with 
 a number of young fellows, were three young girls who 
 worked at a steam laundry in the neighbourhood. Besides 
 these there were two large, fat, gipsy-looking women, evident- 
 ly hawkers, for on the floor beside them were two baskets 
 containing bundles of chrysanthemums, and two plainly and 
 shabbily dressed women about thirty-five years of age, who 
 were always to be found here on Saturday nights, drinking 
 with any man who was willing to pay for them. The behaviour 
 of these two women was quiet and their manners unobtrusive. 
 They seemed to realise that they were there only on suffer- 
 ance, and their demeanour was shamefaced and humble. 
 
 The majority of the guests were standing. The floor was 
 sprinkled with sawdust which served to soak up the beer 
 that slopped out of the glasses of those whose hands were 
 too unsteady to hold them upright. The air was foul with the 
 smell of beer, spirits and tobacco smoke, and the uproar was 
 deafening, for nearly everyone was talking at the same time, 
 their voices clashing discordantly with the strains of the 
 polyphone, which was playing 'The Garden of Your Heart.' 
 In one corner a group of men was convulsed with laughter at 
 
 201
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 the details of a dirty story related by one of their number. 
 Several impatient customers were banging the bottoms of 
 their empty glasses or pewters on the counter and shouting 
 their orders for more beer. Oaths, curses and obscene ex- 
 pressions resounded on every hand, coming almost as 
 frequently from the women as the men. And over all re- 
 sounded the rattle of money, the ringing of the cash register, 
 the clinking and rattling of the glasses and pewter pots as they 
 were being washed, and the gurgling of the beer as it gushed 
 into the drinking vessels from the taps of the beer engine, whose 
 handles were almost incessantly manipulated by the barman, 
 the Old Dear and the glittering landlady, whose silken blouse, 
 bejewelled hair, ears, neck and fingers, scintillated gloriously 
 in the blaze of the gaslight. 
 
 The scene was so novel and strange to Ruth that she felt 
 dazed and bewildered. Before her marriage she had been a 
 total abstainer, but since then had occasionally taken a glass 
 of beer with Easton for company's sake with their Sunday 
 dinner at home. But it was generally Easton who went out 
 and bought it, and she had never before been in a public 
 house to drink. So confused and ill at ease did she feel that 
 she scarcely heard or understood Mrs Crass, who talked in- 
 cessantly, principally about their other neighbours in North 
 Street, and also promised Ruth to introduce her presently 
 if he came in, as he was almost certain to do to Mr Partaker, 
 one of her two lodgers, a most superior young man, who 
 had been with them now for over three years and would not 
 leave on any account. In fact, he had been their lodger in 
 their old house and when they moved he came with them to 
 North Street, although it was farther away from his place of 
 business. 
 
 Meantime, Crass and Easton the latter having deposited 
 the string bag on the seat at Ruth's side arranged to play 
 a match of Hooks and Rings with the Semi-Drunk and the 
 Besotted Wretch, the losers to pay for drinks for all the 
 party including the two women. Crass and the Semi-Drunk 
 tossed up for sides. Crass won and picked the Besotted 
 Wretch, and the game began. It was a one-sided affair from 
 the first, for Easton and the Semi-Drunk were no match for 
 the other two. The end of it was that Easton and his partner 
 had to pay for the drinks. The four men had a pint each of 
 four ale and Mrs Crass had another three-pennyworth of gin. 
 
 2O2
 
 Ruth 
 
 Ruth protested that she did not want any more to drink, but 
 the others ridiculed this, and both the Besotted Wretch and 
 the Semi-Drunk seemed to regard her unwillingness as a 
 personal insult, so she allowed them to get her another half- 
 pint of beer, which she was compelled to drink, because she 
 was conscious that the others were watching her to see that 
 she did so. 
 
 The Semi-Drunk now suggested a return match. He wished 
 to have his revenge. He was a little out of practice, he said, 
 and was only just getting his hand in as they were finishing 
 the other game. Crass and his partner readily assented, and 
 in spite of Ruth's whispered entreaty that they should return 
 home without further delay, Easton insisted on joining the 
 game. 
 
 Although they played more carefully than before, and 
 notwithstanding the fact that the Besotted Wretch was 
 very drunk, Easton and his partner were again beaten and 
 once more had to pay for the drinks. The men had a pint 
 each as before. Mrs Crass upon whom the liquor so far 
 seemed to have no effect had another three-pennyworth of 
 gin, and Ruth consented to take another glass of beer on 
 condition that Easton would come away directly their drinks 
 were finished. Easton agreed to do so, but instead of keeping 
 his word he began to play a four handed game of shove- 
 ha'penny with the other three, the sides and stakes being 
 arranged as before. 
 
 The liquor was by this time beginning to have some effect 
 upon Ruth ; she felt dizzy and confused. Whenever it was 
 necessary to reply to Mrs Grass's talk she found some 
 difficulty in articulating the words and she knew she was 
 not answering very intelligently. Even when Mrs Crass 
 introduced her to the interesting Mr Partaker, who arrived 
 about this time, she was scarcely able to collect herself 
 sufficiently to decline that fascinating gentleman's invitation 
 to have another drink with himself and Mrs Crass. After a 
 time a kind of terror took possession of her, and she resolved 
 that if Easton would not come when he had finished the 
 game he was playing she would go home without him. 
 
 Meantime the game of shove-ha'penny proceeded merrily, 
 the majority of the male guests crowding round the board, 
 applauding or censuring the players as occasion demanded. 
 The Semi-Drunk was in high glee for Crass was not much of 
 
 203
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 a hand at this game, and the Besotted Wretch, although play- 
 ing well, was not able to make up for his partner's want of 
 skill. As the game drew near its end and it became more and 
 more certain that his opponents would be defeated, the joy 
 of the Semi-Drunk was unbounded, and he challenged them 
 to make it double or quits, a generous offer which they 
 wisely declined ; and shortly afterwards, seeing that their 
 position was hopeless, they capitulated and prepared to pay 
 the penalty of the vanquished. 
 
 Crass ordered the drinks and the Besotted Wretch paid half 
 the damage a pint of four ale for each of the men and the 
 same as before for the ladies. The Old Dear executed the 
 order, but by mistake, being very busy, he served two ' three's ' 
 of gin instead of one. Ruth did not want any more at all, but 
 she was afraid to say so, and she did not like to make any 
 fuss about it being the wrong drink, especially as they all 
 assured her that the spirits would do her more good than 
 beer. She did not want either ; she wanted to get away, and 
 would have liked to empty the stuff out of the glass on to the 
 floor, but she was afraid that Mrs Crass or one of the others 
 might see her doing so and that it might lead to trouble. Be- 
 sides, it seemed easier to drink this small quantity of spirits 
 and water than a glass of beer, the very thought of which now 
 made her feel ill. She drank the stuff, which Easton handed to 
 her, at a single draught, and, handing back the empty glass 
 with a shudder, stood up resolutely. 
 
 'Are you coming home now? You promised you would,' 
 she said. 
 
 'All right; presently,' replied Easton. 'There's plenty of 
 time ; it's not nine yet.' 
 
 'That doesn't matter; it's quite late enough. You know 
 we've left the child at home alone in the house. You promised 
 you'd come as soon as you'd finished that other game.' 
 
 'All right, all right,' answered Easton, impatiently. 'Just 
 wait a minute; I want to see this, and then I'll come.' 
 
 'This' was a most interesting problem propounded by Crass, 
 who had arranged eleven matches side by side on the shove- 
 ha'penny board. The problem was to take none away and yet 
 leave only nine. Nearly all the men in the bar were crowding 
 round the shove-ha'penny board, some with knitted brows 
 and drunken gravity trying to solve the puzzle, and others 
 waiting curiously for the result. Easton crossed over to see 
 
 204
 
 Ruth 
 
 how it was done, and as none of the crowd were able to do 
 the trick, Crass showed that it could be accomplished by 
 simply arranging the eleven matches so as to form the word 
 NINE. Everybody said it was very good indeed, very clever 
 and interesting. Both the Semi-Drunk and the Besotted Wretch 
 were reminded by this trick of several others equally good, 
 and they proceeded to do them ; and then the men had another 
 pint each all round as a reviver after the mental strain of the 
 last few minutes. 
 
 Easton did not know any tricks himself, but he was an in- 
 terested spectator until Ruth came over and touched his arm. 
 
 4 Aren't you coming ? ' 
 
 ' Wait a minute, can't you ? ' he cried, roughly. ' What's 
 your hurry ? ' 
 
 4 1 don't want to stay here any longer,' said Ruth, hysteric- 
 ally ; 'you said you'd come as soon as you saw that trick. If 
 you don't come I shall go home by myself. I don't want to 
 stay in this place any longer.' 
 
 'Well, go by yourself if you want to!' shouted Easton 
 fiercely, pushing her away from him. ' I shall stop 'ere as long 
 as I please, and if you don't like it you can do the other 
 thing.' 
 
 Ruth staggered and nearly fell from the force of the push 
 he gave her, and the man turned again to the table to watch 
 the Semi-Drunk, who was arranging six matches so as to form 
 the numeral XII, saying he could prove that this was equal 
 to a thousand. 
 
 Ruth waited a few minutes longer, and then, as Easton took 
 no further notice of her, she took up the string bag and the 
 other parcels, and without staying to say good-night to Mrs 
 Crass, who was earnestly conversing with the interesting 
 Partaker, opened the door with some difficulty and went out 
 into the street. The cold night air seemed refreshing and sweet 
 after the foul atmosphere of the public-house. But after a little 
 while she began to feel faint and dizzy and was conscious 
 also that she walking unsteadily, and she fancied that people 
 stared at her strangely as they passed. The parcels felt very 
 heavy and awkward to carry, and the string bag seemed as if 
 it were filled with lead. 
 
 Although under ordinary circumstances it was only about 
 ten minutes' walk home, she resolved to go by one of the trams 
 which passed by the end of North Street. With this intention 
 
 205
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 she put down her bag on the pavement at the stopping place, 
 and waited, resting her hand on the iron pillar at the corner 
 of the street, where a little crowd of people were standing, 
 evidently with the same object as herself. 
 
 Two trams passed without stopping, for they were already 
 full of passengers, a common circumstance on Saturday nights. 
 The next one stopped, and several persons alighted, and then 
 ensued a fierce struggle amongst the waiting crowd for the 
 vacant seats. Men and women pushed, pulled and almost 
 fought, shoving their fists and elbows into each other's sides 
 and breasts and faces. Ruth was quickly thrust aside and 
 nearly knocked down, and the tram, having taken aboard as 
 many passengers as it had accomodation for, passed on. She 
 waited for the next one, and the same scene was enacted with 
 the same result for her, and then, reflecting that if she had 
 not stayed for these trams she might have been home by now, 
 she determined to resume her walk. The parcels felt heavier 
 than ever, and she had not proceeded very far before she 
 was compelled to put the bag down again upon the pavement 
 outside an empty house. 
 
 Leaning against the railings, she felt very tired and ill. 
 Everything around her, the street, the houses, the traffic, 
 seemed vague and shadowy and unreal. Several people looked 
 curiously at her as they passed, but by this time she was 
 scarcely conscious of their scrutiny. 
 
 Slyme's ' open air ' that night, conducted by the Shining 
 Light Mission, had been a most successful meeting, the 
 disciples including Hunter, Rushton, Sweater, Didlum, and 
 Mrs Starvem Ruth's former mistress had assembled in 
 great force so as to be able to deal more effectively with any 
 infidels or hired critics or drunken scoffers who might disturb 
 the proceedings. When the meeting was over, Slyme set off 
 to his lodging at a good pace, for the evening had turned cold 
 and he was anxious to get home to the fire. He had not gone 
 very far when he saw a small crowd of people on the pave- 
 ment on the other side of the road, outside an unoccupied 
 house, and in spite of his hurry he crossed over to see what 
 was the matter, There were about twenty people standing 
 there, and in the centre, close to the railings he could hear 
 the voices of three or four women. 
 
 ' What's up ? ' he enquired of a man on the edge of the 
 crowd. 
 
 206
 
 Ruth 
 
 'Oh, nothing much,' returned the other; 'some young 
 woman ; she's either ill, come over faint, or something or 
 else she's had a drop too much.' 
 
 ' Quite a respectable looking young party, too,' said another 
 man. 
 
 Several young fellows in the crowd were amusing themselves 
 by making suggestive jokes, and causing some laughter by 
 their expressions of mock sympathy. 
 
 ' Doesn't anyone know who she is ? ' said the second man 
 who had spoken in reply to Slyme's enquiry. 
 
 1 No,' said a woman who was standing a little nearer the 
 middle of the crowd, 'and she won't say where she lives.' 
 
 'She'll be all right now she's had that glass of soda,' said 
 another man, elbowing his way out of the crowd. As this in- 
 dividual came out, Slyme managed to work himself a little 
 further into the group of people and he uttered an involuntary 
 cry of astonishment as he caught sight of Ruth, very pale, 
 and looking very ill, as she stood clasping one of the railings 
 with her left hand, and holding the packages of groceries in 
 the other. She had by this time recovered sufficiently to feel 
 overwhelmed with shame and confusion before the crowd of 
 strangers who hemmed her in on every side and some of 
 whom she could hear laughing and joking about her. It was 
 therefore with a sensation of intense relief and gratitude that 
 she saw Slyme's familiar face and heard his friendly voice as 
 he forced his way through to her side. 
 
 ' I can walk home all right now,' she stammered in reply to 
 his anxious questioning, 'if you wouldn't mind carrying some 
 of these things for me.' 
 
 He insisted on taking the bag and all the parcels, and the 
 crowd, having jumped to the conclusion that he was the young 
 woman's husband, began to dwindle away, one of the jokers 
 remarking ' It's all over ! ' in a loud voice, as he took him- 
 self off. 
 
 It was only about seven minutes' walk home from there, and 
 as the streets along which they had to pass were not very 
 brilliantly lighted, Ruth was able to lean on Slyme's arm most 
 of the way. When they arrived home, after she had removed 
 her hat, he made her sit down in the arm chair. The fire was 
 burning brightly, and the kettle was singing on the hob, for 
 she had banked up the fire with cinders and small coal before 
 she went out. 
 
 207
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 The baby still lay asleep in the cradle, but his slumbers had 
 evidently not been of the most restful kind, for he had kicked 
 the bed clothes off him and was lying all uncovered. 
 
 Ruth obeyed passively when Slyme told her to sit down, 
 and lying back languidly in the armchair she watched him, 
 through half-closed eyes and with a slight flush on her face, as 
 he deftly covered the sleeping child with the bed clothes and 
 settled him more comfortably in the cot. 
 
 Slyme now turned his attention to the fire and as he placed 
 the kettle upon it, he remarked : ' As soon as the water boils 
 I'll make you some strong tea.' 
 
 During their walk home she had acquainted Slyme with 
 the cause of the misfortune which had befallen her, and as she 
 reclined in the armchair, drowsily watching him, she wonder- 
 ed what would have happened to her if he had not passed by 
 when he did. 
 
 4 Are you feeling better ? ' he asked, looking down at her. 
 
 ' Yes. I feel quite well now ; but I'm afraid I've given you 
 a lot of trouble.' 
 
 ' No, you haven't. Nothing I can do for you is a trouble to 
 me. But don't you think you'd better take your jacket off? 
 Here, let me help you.' 
 
 While he was helping with the jacket, Slyme suddenly took 
 her in his arms and kissed her repeatedly. 
 
 There came a cry from the cradle, and at the sound a shud- 
 der went through Ruth's limp and unresisting form. She 
 wrenched herself free from his passionate embrace, and struck 
 at him so furiously that he recoiled before her and retired 
 upstairs trembling and disconcerted. 
 
 The following week the Eastons' room was once again 
 to let. 
 
 208
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 THE OBLONG 
 
 DURING the following week the work at 'The Cave ' progress- 
 ed rapidly towards completion, although the hours of day- 
 light were now so few that the men worked only from 8 a.m. 
 till 4 p.m., and had their breakfast before they came. This 
 made forty hours a week, so that those who were paid seven- 
 pence an hour earned i 35. 4d, those who got sixpence- 
 halfpenny drew >\ is. 8d, those whose wages were fivepence 
 an hour were paid the princely sum of 1 6s. 8d. for their week's 
 hard labour, and those whose rate was fourpence halfpenny 
 'picked up ' 155. 
 
 And yet there are people who say that Drink is the cause 
 of poverty. 
 
 By Tuesday night all the inside work was finished with the 
 exception of the kitchen and scullery. The painting of the 
 kitchen had been delayed owing to the non-arrival of the new 
 cooking range, and the scullery was still used as the paint shop. 
 The outside work was also progressing rapidly, for though, 
 according to the specification, all the outside woodwork was 
 supposed to have three coats, and the guttering, rain pipes 
 and other ironwork, two coats, Crass and Hunter had 
 arranged to make two coats do for most of the windows and 
 woodwork, and all the ironwork had one coat only. The win- 
 dows were painted in two colours, the sashes dark green and 
 the frames white. All the rest gables, doors, railings, gutter- 
 ing, etc. was dark green ; and all the dark green paint was 
 made with boiled linseed oil and varnish, no turpentine being 
 allowed. 
 
 ' This is some bloody fine stuff to 'ave to use, ain't it ? ' 
 remarked Harlow to Philpot on Wednesday morning. 'It's 
 more like a lot of treacle than anything else.' 
 
 'Yes; and it won't arf blister next summer when it gets 
 a bit of sun on it,' replied Philpot with a grin, 
 o 209
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 ' I suppose they're afraid that if they was to put a little 
 turps in it wouldn't bear out, and they'd 'ave to give it 
 another coat.' 
 
 4 You can bet yer life that's the reason,' said Philpot ; 'but 
 all the same I mean to pinch a drop to put in mine as soon 
 as Crass is gorn.' 
 
 4 Gorn where ? ' 
 
 'Why, didn't you know? There's another funeral on to-day.' 
 
 ' I reckon Crass and Slyme must be making a small fortune 
 out of all these 'ere funerals,' said Harlow; 'this makes the 
 fourth in the last fortnight. What is it they gets for 'em ? ' 
 
 1 A shillin' for takin' 'ome the corfin and liftin' in the corpse, 
 and four bob for the funeral five bob altogether.' 
 
 ' That's a bit of all right, ain't it ? ' said Harlow. 'A couple 
 of them in a week besides your week's wages. Five bob for 
 two or three hours' work ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, the money's all right, mate, but they're welcome to 
 it for my part. I don't want to go messin' about with no 
 corpses,' replied Philpot, with a shudder. 
 
 ' Who is this last party what's dead ? ' asked Harlow. after 
 a pause. 
 
 ' It's a parson what used to belong to the Shinin' Light 
 Chapel. He'd been abroad for 'is 'olerdays. It seems 'e was 
 ill before 'e went away, but the change did 'im a lot of good ; 
 in fact, 'e was quite recovered, and 'e was coming back again. 
 But while 'e was standin' on the platform waitin' for the train, 
 a porter runned into 'im with a barrer load o' luggage, and 'e 
 blowed up.' 
 
 ' Blowed up ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' repeated Philpot solemnly. ' Blowed up ! Busted ! 
 Exploded ! All into pieces. But they swep 'em all up and put 
 it in a corfin and it's to be planted this afternoon.' 
 
 Harlow maintained an awestruck silence, and Philpot 
 continued : 
 
 ' I had a drink the other night with a butcher bloke what 
 used to serve this parson with meat, and we was talkin' about 
 what a strange sort of death it was, but 'e said 'e wasn't at all 
 surprised to 'ear of it ; the only thing as 'e wondered at was 
 that the man didn't blow up long ago, considerin' the amount 
 of grub as 'e used to make away with. He ses the quantities 
 of stuff as 'e's took there and seen other tradesmen take was 
 something chronic. Tons of it ! ' 
 
 2IO
 
 The Oblong 
 
 ' What was the parson's name ? ' asked Harlow. 
 
 1 Belcher. You must 'ave noticed 'im about the town. A 
 very fat chap,' replied Philpot. ' I'm sorry you wasn't 'ere on 
 Saturday to see the corfin plate. Frank called me in to see the 
 wordin' when 'e'd finished it. It had on: "Jonydab Belcher. 
 Born January ist 1849. Ascended, December 8th 19 '" 
 
 ' Oh, I know the bloke now ! ' cried Harlow. ' I remember 
 my youngsters bringin' 'ome a subscription list what they'd 
 got up at the Sunday School to send 'im away for a 'olerday 
 because 'e was ill, and I gave 'em a penny each to put on 
 their cards because I didn't want 'em to feel mean before the 
 other young 'uns. It seems to be gettin' colder, don't it ? ' 
 
 1 It's enough to freeze the ears orf a brass monkey ! ' re- 
 marked Easton as he descended from a ladder close by, and 
 placing his pot of paint on the ground began to try to warm 
 his hands by rubbing and beating them together. He was 
 trembling, and his teeth were chattering with cold. 
 
 'I could just do with a nice pint o' beer, now,' he said as 
 he stamped his feet on the ground. 
 
 'That's just what I was thinkin',' said Philpot wistfully, 
 'and what's more, I mean to 'ave one, too, at dinner time. 
 I shall nip down to the " Cricketers." Even if I don't get back 
 till a few minutes after one, it won't matter, because Crass 
 and Nimrod will be gorn to the funeral.' 
 
 1 Will you bring me a pint back with you, in a bottle ? ' 
 asked Easton. 
 
 ' Yes, certainly,' said Philpot. 
 
 Harlow said nothing. He also would have liked a pint of 
 beer, but, as was usual with him, he had not the necessary cash. 
 
 Having restored the circulation to a certain extent, they 
 now resumed their work, and only just in time, for a few 
 minutes afterwards they observed Misery peeping at them 
 round the corner of the house and they wondered how long 
 he had been there and whether he had overheard their 
 conversation. 
 
 At twelve o'clock Crass and Slyme cleared off in a great 
 hurry, and a little while afterwards Philpot took off his apron 
 and put on his coat to go to 'The Cricketers.' When the 
 others found out where he was going, several of them asked 
 him to bring back a drink for them, and then someone 
 suggested that all those who wanted some beer should give 
 twopence each. This was done : one shilling and fourpence 
 
 211
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 was collected and given to Philpot, who was to bring back a 
 gallon of beer in a jar. He promised to get back as soon as 
 ever he could, and some of the shareholders decided not to 
 drink any tea with their dinners, but to wait for the beer, 
 although they knew that it would be nearly time to resume 
 work before he could get back. It would be a quarter to one 
 at the very earliest. 
 
 The minutes dragged slowly by, and after a while the only 
 man on the job who had a watch began to lose his temper 
 and refused to answer any more enquiries concerning the 
 time. So presently Bert was sent up to the top of the house 
 to look at a church clock which was visible therefrom, and 
 when he came down he reported that it was ten minutes 
 to one. 
 
 Symptoms of anxiety now began to manifest themselves 
 amongst the shareholders, several of whom went down to the 
 main road to see if Philpot was yet in sight, but each returned 
 with the same report they could see nothing of him. 
 
 No one was formally ' in charge ' of the job during Grass's 
 absence, but they all returned to their work promptly at one 
 because they feared that Sawkins or some other sneak might 
 report any irregularity to Crass or Misery. 
 
 At a quarter past one Philpot was still missing and the 
 uneasiness of the shareholders began to develop into a panic. 
 Some of them plainly expressed the opinion that he had 
 gone on the razzle with the money. As the time wore on 
 this became the general opinion. At two o'clock, all hope of 
 his return having been abandoned, two or three of the share- 
 holders went and drank some of the cold tea. 
 
 Their fears were only too well founded, for they saw no 
 mere of Philpot till the next morning, when he arrived 
 looking very sheepish and repentant and promised to refund 
 all the money on Saturday. He also made a long rambling 
 statement from which it appeared that on his way to the 
 1 Cricketers ' he met a couple of chaps whom he knew who 
 were out of work, and he invited them to come and have a 
 drink. When they got to the pub they found there the Semi- 
 Drunk and the Besotted Wretch. One drink led to another, 
 and then they started arguing, and he had forgotten all about 
 the gallon of beer until he woke up this morning. 
 
 Whilst Philpot was making this explanation they were 
 putting on their aprons and blouses and Crass was serving 
 
 212
 
 The Oblong 
 
 out the lots of colour. Slyme took no part in the conversa- 
 tion, but got ready as quickly as possible and went outside 
 to make a start. The reason for this haste soon became 
 apparent to some of the others, for they noticed that he had 
 selected and commenced painting a large window that was 
 so situated as to be sheltered from the keen wind that was 
 blowing. 
 
 The basement of the house was slightly below the level 
 of the ground and there was a sort of a trench or area about 
 three feet deep in front of the basement windows. The banks 
 of this trench were covered with rose trees and evergreens, 
 and the bottom was a mass of slimy, evil smelling, rain- 
 sodden earth. To second coat these windows Philpot and 
 Harlow had to stand in all this filth, which soaked through 
 their worn and broken boot soles. As they worked, the thorns 
 of the rose trees caught and tore their clothing and scratched 
 the flesh of their half-frozen hands. 
 
 Owen and Easton were working on ladders at the 
 windows immediately above Philpot and Harlow ; Sawkins, 
 on another ladder, was painting one of the gables, and the 
 other men were busy at different parts of the outside of the 
 house ; and the boy Bert was painting the iron railings of the 
 front fence. The weather was bitterly cold and a dreary 
 expanse of grey cloud covered the wintry sky. 
 
 As the men worked they stood almost motionless, their 
 right arms being the only part of their bodies that was 
 exercised. The window painting required great care and 
 deliberation, otherwise the glass would be 'messed up,' or 
 the white paint of the frames would ' run into ' the dark green 
 of the sashes, for both colours were wet at the same time, 
 each man having two pots of paint and two sets of brushes. 
 The wind was not blowing in sudden gusts, but swept by in 
 a strong persistent current that penetrated their clothing and 
 left them trembling and numb with cold. It blew from the 
 right, and this added to their discomfort, because the uplifted 
 right arm left that side of the body fully exposed. They were 
 able to keep their left hands in their trousers pockets and 
 the left arm close to the side most of the time, which made 
 a lot of difference. 
 
 Another reason why it is worse for the wind to strike 
 from the right is that the buttons on a man's coat are always 
 on the right side and consequently the wind gets under- 
 
 213
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 neath. Philpot realised this all the more because some of the 
 buttons of his coat and waistcoat were missing. 
 
 As they worked *on, trembling with cold, and with their 
 teeth chattering, their faces and hands turned that pale 
 violet colour generally seen on the lips of a corpse. Their 
 eyes became full of water and the lids were red and inflamed. 
 Philpot's and Harlow's boots were soon wet through, and 
 their feet were sore and intensely painful with cold. 
 
 Their hands, of course, suffered the most, becoming so 
 numbed that they were unable to feel the brushes they held ; 
 in fact, presently, as Philpot was taking a dip of colour, the 
 brush fell into the pot, and then, finding that he was unable 
 to move his fingers, he put his hand into his trousers pocket 
 to thaw, and began to walk about, stamping his feet upon the 
 ground. His example was quickly followed by Owen, Easton, 
 and Harlow, and they all went round the corner to the 
 sheltered side of the house where Slyme was working, and 
 began walking up and down, rubbing their hands, stamping 
 their feet, and swinging their arms to warm themselves. 
 
 ' If I thought Nimrod wasn't comin', I'd put my overcoat 
 on and work in it,' remarked Philpot, 'but you never knows 
 when to expect the blighter, and if 'e saw me in it, it would 
 mean the bloody push.' 
 
 1 It wouldn't interfere with our workin' if we did wear 'em,' 
 said Easton, ' in fact, we'd be able to work all the quicker if 
 we wasn't so cold.' 
 
 ' Even if Misery didn't come, I suppose Crass would 'ave 
 something to say if we put 'em on,' continued Philpot. 
 
 ' Well, yer couldn't blame 'im if 'e did say something, could 
 yer ? ' said Slyme, offensively. ' Crass would get into a row 
 'imself if 'Unter came and saw us workin' in overcoats. It 
 would look ridiclus.' 
 
 Slyme suffered less from the cold than any of them, not 
 only because he had secured the most sheltered window, 
 but also because he was better clothed than most of the rest. 
 
 'What's Crass supposed to be doin' inside?' asked 
 Easton, as he tramped up and down, with his shoulders 
 hunched up and his hands thrust deep into the pockets of 
 his trousers. 
 
 ' Blowed if I know,' replied Philpot ; ' messin' about touchin 
 up or makin' colour. He never does 'is share of a job like 
 this ; 'e knows 'ow to work things all right for 'isself.' 
 
 214
 
 The Oblong 
 
 1 What if 'e does ? We'd do the same if we was in 'is place, 
 and so would anybody else/ said Slyme, and added sarcastic- 
 ally : 'or p'raps you'd give all the soft jobs to other people 
 and do all the rough yerself ! ' 
 
 Slyme knew that although they were speaking of Crass 
 they were also alluding to himself, and as he replied to 
 Philpot he looked slyly at Owen, who had so far taken no 
 part in the conversation. 
 
 1 It's not a question of what we would do,' chimed in 
 Harlow, ' it's a question of what's fair. If it's not fair for 
 Crass to pick all the soft jobs for 'imself and leave all the 
 rough for the other chaps, it wouldn't make it any more right 
 for us to do the same if we 'ad the chance.' 
 
 ' No one can be blamed for doing the best he can for him- 
 self under existing circumstances,' said Owen, in reply to 
 Slyme's questioning look. ' That is the principle of the 
 present system every man for himself and the devil take 
 the rest. For my own part I don't pretend to practise unsel- 
 fishness. I don't pretend to guide my actions by the rules 
 laid down in the Sermon on the Mount. But it's certainly 
 surprising to hear you, who profess to be a follower of Christ, 
 advocating selfishness ; or rather, it would be surprising ex- 
 cept that the name of " Christian " has ceased to signify one 
 who follows Christ, and has come to mean only liar and 
 hypocrite.' 
 
 Slyme made no answer. Possibly the fact that he was a 
 true believer enabled him to bear this insult with meekness 
 and humility. 
 
 ' I wonder what time it is ? ' interposed Philpot. 
 
 Slyme looked at his watch. It was nearly ten o'clock. 
 
 'Jesus Christ! is that all?' growled Easton as they 
 returned to work. ' Two hours more ! ' 
 
 The wind blew colder and colder. The sky, which at first had 
 shown small patches of blue through rifts in the masses of 
 clouds, had now become uniformly grey. There was every in- 
 dication of an impending fall of snow. 
 
 The men perceived this with conflicting feelings. If it did 
 begin to snow they would not be able to continue this work, 
 and therefore they found themselves involuntarily wishing 
 that it would snow, or rain, or hail, or anything that would 
 stop the work. But on the other hand, if the weather prevented 
 them getting on with the outside, some of them would have to 
 
 215
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 4 stand off', because the inside was practically finished. None 
 of them wished to lose any 4 time' if they could help it, be- 
 cause there were only ten days more before Christmas. 
 
 Twelve o'clock came at last, and almost before Grass's 
 whistle had ceased to sound the men were all assembled in 
 the kitchen before a roaring fire. Sweater had sent in two 
 tons of coal, and had given orders that large fires were to be 
 lit each day in nearly every room to make the house habitable 
 by Christmas. 
 
 4 1 wonder if it's true as the firm's got another job to do 
 for old Sweater ? ' remarked Harlow, as he was toasting a 
 bloater on the end of a pointed stick. 
 
 4 True ? No ! ' said the man on the pail scornfully. ' It's all 
 bogey. You know that empty 'ouse as they said Sweater 'ad 
 bought the one that Rush ton and Nimrod was seen lookin'at?' 
 
 4 Yes,' replied Harlow. The other men listened with evident 
 interest. 
 
 4 Well, they wasn't pricing it up at all ! The landlord of that 
 'ouse is abroad, and there was some plants in the garden as 
 Rushton thought Vd like, and 'e was tellin' Misery which 
 ones 'e wanted. And afterwards old Pontius Pilate came up 
 with Ned Dawson and a truck. They made two or three 
 journeys and took bloody near everything in the garden as 
 was worth takin'. What didn't go to Rushton's place went to 
 'Unter's.' 
 
 The disappointment of their hopes for another job was 
 almost forgotten in their interest in this story. 
 
 4 Who told you about it ? ' said Harlow. 
 
 4 Ned Dawson 'imself. It's right enough what I say. Ask 'im.' 
 
 Ned Dawson, usually called 4 Bundy's mate ', had been doing 
 odd jobs at the yard, and had only come back to 4 The Cave ' 
 that morning, and on being appealed to he corroborated Dick 
 Wantley's statement. 
 
 'They'll be gettin' theirselves into trouble if they ain't 
 careful,' remarked Easton. 
 
 4 Oh no, they won't ; Rushton's too artful for that. It seems 
 the agent is a pal of 'is, and they worked it between 'em.' 
 
 1 Wot a bloody cheek, though ! ' exclaimed Harlow. 
 
 4 Oh, that's nothing to some o' the things I've knowed 'em 
 do before now,' said the man on the pail. 4 Why, don't you 
 remember, back in the summer, that carved hoak hall table 
 as Rushton pinched out of that 'ouse on Grand Parade ? ' 
 
 2l6
 
 The Oblong 
 
 ' Yes, that was a bit of all right, too, wasn't it ? ' cried 
 Philpot, and several of the others laughed. 
 
 4 You know, that big 'ouse we did up last summer No 596,' 
 Wantley continued, for the benefit of those not ' in the know '. 
 1 Well, it 'ad bin empty for a long time, and we found this 
 'ere table in a cupboard under the stairs. A bloody fine table 
 it was, too. One of them bracket tables what you fix to the 
 wall, without no legs. It 'ad a 'arf round marble top to it, and 
 underneath was a carved hoak figger, a mermaid, with 'er 
 arms up over 'er 'ead 'oldin* up the table top something 
 splendid ! Must 'ave been worth at least five quid. Well, just 
 as we pulled this 'ere table out, who should come in but Rush- 
 ton, and when 'e seen it 'e tells Crass to cover it over with a 
 sack and not to let nobody see it. And then 'e clears orf to the 
 shop and sends the boy down with the truck and 'as it took 
 up to 'is own 'ouse ; and it's there now, fixed in the front 'all. 
 I was sent up there a couple of months ago to paint and 
 varnish the lobby doors, and I seen it meself. There's a 
 pitcher called "The Day of Judgmint" 'angin' on the wall 
 just over it thunder and lightnin' and earthquakes and 
 corpses gettin' up out o' their graves something bloody 
 'orrible ; and underneath the picture is a card with a tex out 
 of the Bible : " Christ is the 'ead of this 'ouse ; the unknown 
 guest at every meal, the silent listener to every conversation." 
 I was workin' there for three or four days and I got to know 
 it orf by 'eart.' 
 
 ' Well, that takes the biskit, don't it ? ' said Philpot. 
 
 4 Yes; but the best of it was,' the man on the pail proceeded ; 
 4 the best of it was, when ole Misery 'card about the table, 'e 
 was so bloody wild because 'e didn't get it 'imself that 'e went 
 upstairs and pinched one of the Venetian blinds, and 'ad it 
 took up to 'is own 'ouse by the boy, and a few days arter- 
 wards one of the carpenters 'ad to go and fix it up in -'is 
 bedroom.' 
 
 4 And wasn't it never found out ? ' enquired Easton. 
 
 4 Well, there was a bit of talk about it. The agent wanted 
 to know where it was, but Pontius Pilate swore black and 
 white as there 'adn't been no blind in that room, and the end 
 of it was that the firm got the order to supply a new one.' 
 
 A number of similar stories were related by several others 
 concerning the doings of their different employers, but after 
 a time the conversation reverted to the subject that was 
 
 217
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 uppermost in their thoughts the impending slaughter, and 
 the improbability of being able to obtain another job, consider- 
 ing the large number of men who were already out of em- 
 ployment. 
 
 'I can't make it out, myself/ remarked Easton; 'things 
 seems to get worse every year. There don't seem to be 'arf 
 the work about that there used to be, and even what there is 
 is messed up anyhow, as if the people who "as it done can't 
 afford to pay for it.' 
 
 4 You should ask Owen to explain it for yer,' said Crass, 
 with a jeering laugh. ' 'E knows all about wot's the cause of 
 poverty, but 'e won't tell nobody.' 
 
 Crass had never yet had an opportunity of producing the 
 'Obscurer' cutting, and he made this remark in the hope of 
 turning the conversation into a convenient channel. But Owen 
 did not respond, and went on reading his newspaper. 
 
 'We ain't 'ad no lectures at all lately, 'ave we ? ' said Har- 
 low, in an injured tone, ' I think it's about time Owen explained 
 what the real cause of poverty is. I'm beginning to get anxious 
 about it.' 
 
 The others laughed. 
 
 When Philpot had finished eating his dinner he went out 
 of the kitchen and presently returned with a small pair of 
 steps, which he opened and placed in a corner of the room, 
 with the back of the steps facing the audience. 
 
 4 There you are, me son ! ' he exclaimed to Owen. ' There's 
 a pulpit for yer.' 
 
 4 Yes ! Come on 'ere ! ' cried Crass, feeling in his waistcoat 
 pocket for the cutting. ' Tell us wot's the real cause of poverty.' 
 
 4 'Ear, 'ear ! ' shouted the man on the pail. 4 Git up into the 
 bloody pulpit and give us a sermon.' 
 
 As Owen made no response to these invitations the crowd 
 began to hoot and groan. 
 
 Come on, man,' whispered Philpot, winking his goggle eye 
 persuasively at Owen ; 4 come on, just for a bit of fun, to pass 
 the time away.' 
 
 Owen accordingly ascended the steps, much to the secret 
 delight of Crass, and was immediately greeted with a round 
 of enthusiastic applause. 
 
 Philpot having been unanimously elected Chairman, Owen 
 commenced : 
 
 4 Mr Chairman and Gentlemen, in some of my previous 
 
 2l8
 
 The Oblong 
 
 lectures I have endeavoured to convince you that money is 
 in itself of no value and of no real use whatever. In this I am 
 afraid I have been rather unsuccessful.' 
 
 'Not a bit of it, mate,' cried Crass, sarcastically; 'we all 
 agrees with it.' 
 
 ' 'Ear, 'ear! ' shouted Easton. ' If a bloke was to come in 'ere 
 now and orfer to give me a quid I'd refuse it ! ' 
 
 ' So would I,' said Philpot. 
 
 1 Well, whether you agree or not, the fact remains. A man 
 might possess so much money that, in England, he would be 
 comparatively rich, and yet if he went to some country where 
 the cost of living is very high he would find himself in a con- 
 dition of poverty. Or he might be in a place where the neces- 
 saries of life could not be bought for money at all. Therefore 
 it follows that to be rich consists not necessarily in having 
 much money, but in being able to enjoy an abundance of the 
 things that are made by work ; and that poverty consists not 
 merely in being without money, but in being short of the 
 necessaries and comforts of life or in other words in being 
 short of the Benefits of Civilisation, those things that are all, 
 without exception, produced by work. Whether you agree or 
 not with anything else that I say, you will all admit that that is 
 our condition at the present time. We do not enjoy a full 
 share of the benefits of civilisation we are all in a state of 
 more or less abject poverty.' 
 
 ' And the reason why we're short of the things that's made 
 by work,' interrupted Crass, mimicking Owen's manner, 'is 
 that we ain't got the bloody money to buy 'em.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said the man on the pail, 'and as I said before, if all 
 the money in the country was shared out equal to-day, ac- 
 cording to Owen's ideas, in six months' time it would be all 
 back again in the same 'ands as it is now, and what are you 
 goin' to do then ? ' 
 
 ' Share again, of course.' 
 
 This answer came derisively from several places at the same 
 instant, and then they all began speaking at once, vicing with 
 each other in ridiculing the foolishness of ' them there Social- 
 ists,' whom they called 'The Sharers Out.' 
 
 ' I never said anything about " sharing out all the money," ' 
 said Owen, during a lull in the storm, 'and I don't know of any 
 Socialist who advocates it. Give me your authority for saying 
 that Socialists believe in sharing out all the money equally ! ' 
 
 219
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 4 Come to think of it,' remarked Crass, as he drew the ' Ob- 
 scurer ' cutting from his waistcoat pocket, ' I've got a little 
 thing 'ere that I've been goin' to read to yer. It's out of the 
 "Obscurer." I'd forgotten all about it.' 
 
 Remarking that the print was too small for his own eyes, 
 he passed the slip of paper to Harlow, who read aloud as 
 follows : 
 
 ' PROVE YOUR PRINCIPLES ; OR, LOOK 
 AT BOTH SIDES. 
 
 ' I wish I could open your eyes to the true misery of our 
 condition : injustice, tyranny, and oppression ! ' said a discon- 
 tented hack to a weary looking cob, as they stood side by side 
 in unhired cabs. 
 
 4 I'd rather have them opened to something pleasant, thank 
 you,' replied the cob. 
 
 1 1 am sorry for you. If you could enter into the noble as- 
 pirations ' the hack began. 
 
 ' Talk plain. What would you have ? ' said the cob, inter- 
 rupting him. 
 
 ' What would I have ? Why, equality, and share and share 
 alike all over the world,' said the hack. 
 
 1 You mean that ? ' said the cob. 
 
 ' Of course I do. What right have those sleek, pampered 
 hunters and racers to their warm stables and high feed, their 
 grooms and jockeys ? It is really heart-sickening to think of 
 it,' replied the hack. 
 
 ' I don't know but you may be right,' said the cob ; ' and to 
 show I'm in earnest, as no doubt you are, let me have half the 
 good beans you have in your bag, and you shall have half the 
 musty oats and chaff I have in mine. There's nothing like 
 proving one's principles.' Original Parables by Mrs Prosser? 
 
 1 There you are ! ' cried several voices. 
 
 1 What does THAT mean ? ' cried Crass, triumphantly. ' Why 
 don't you go and share your wages with the chaps what's out 
 of work ? ' 
 
 ' What does it mean ? ' replied Owen, contemptuously. ' It 
 means that if the Editor of the "Obscurer" put that in his 
 paper as an argument against Socialism, either he is of feeble 
 intellect himself or else he thinks that the majority of his 
 readers are. That isn't, an argument against Socialism ; it's 
 an argument against the hypocrites who pretend to be Chris- 
 
 22O
 
 The Oblong 
 
 tians, the people who profess to "love their neighbours as 
 themselves," who pretend to believe in " Universal Brother- 
 hood " and who assert they do not love the world or the things 
 of the world. As for why / don't do it why should I ? I don't 
 pretend to be a Christian. But you're all "Christians" why 
 don't you do it ? ' 
 
 'We're not talkin' about religion,' exclaimed Crass, im- 
 patiently. 
 
 'Then what are you talking about ? I never said anything 
 about "sharing out " or "bearing one another's burdens." I 
 don't profess to " give to everyone who asks of me " or to 
 " give my cloak to the man who takes away my coat." I have 
 read that Christ taught that his followers must do all these 
 things, but as I do not pretend to be one of his followers I 
 don't do them. But you believe in Christianity : why don't 
 you do the things that He said ? ' 
 
 As nobody seemed to know the answer to this question, the 
 lecturer proceeded : 
 
 ' In this matter the difference between so-called " Christians " 
 and Socialists is this : Christ taught the Fatherhood of God 
 and the Brotherhood of men. Those who to-day pretend to be 
 Christ's followers hypocritically profess to carry out those 
 teachings now. But they don't. They have arranged " the 
 Battle of Life " system instead ! 
 
 'The Socialist very much against his will finds himself 
 in the midst of this horrible battle, and he appeals to the 
 other combatants to cease from fighting and to establish a 
 system of Brotherly Love and Mutual Helpfulness, but he 
 does not hypocritically pretend to practise brotherly love 
 towards those who will not agree to his appeal and who 
 compel him to fight with them for his very life. He knows 
 that in this battle he must either fight or go under. Therefore, 
 in self defence, he fights ; but all the time he continues his 
 appeal for the cessation of the slaughter. He pleads for the 
 changing of the system. He advocates Co-operation instead 
 of Competition. But how can he co-operate with people who 
 insist on competing with him ? No individual can practise co- 
 operation by himself! Socialism can only be practised by the 
 Community that is the meaning of the word. At present, 
 the other members of the Community the "Christians "- 
 deride and oppose the Socialist's appeal. 
 
 'No Socialist suggests "sharing out" money or an3'thing 
 
 221
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 else in the manner you say. And another thing : if you only 
 had a little more sense you might be able to perceive that this 
 stock " argument " of yours is really an argument against the 
 present system, inasmuch as it proves that Money is in itself 
 of no use whatever. Suppose all the money was shared out 
 equally, and suppose there was enough of it for everyone to 
 have ten thousand pounds ; and suppose they then all thought 
 they were rich and none of them would work. What would 
 they live on ? Their money ? Could they eat it or drink it or 
 wear it ? It wouldn't take them very long to find out that 
 this wonderful money, which under the present system is 
 the most powerful thing in existence, is really of no more 
 use than so much dirt. They would speedily perish, not from 
 lack of money, but from lack of wealth that is, from lack of 
 the things that are made by work. And also it is quite 
 true that if all the money were distributed equally amongst 
 all the people to-morrow, it would all be up in heaps again in 
 a very short time. But that only proves that while the present 
 Money System remains it will be impossible to do away with 
 poverty, for heaps in some places mean little or nothing in 
 other places. Therefore while the money system lasts we are 
 bound to have poverty and all the evils it brings in its train.' 
 
 'Oh, of course everybody's an idjit except you,' sneered 
 Crass, who was beginning to feel rather fogged. 
 
 ' I rise to a pint of order,' said Easton. 
 
 ' And I rise to order a pint,' cried Philpot. 
 
 'Order what the bloody 'ell you like,' remarked Harlovv, 
 'so long as I haven't got to pay for it.' 
 
 ' Mine's a pint of porter,' observed the man on the pail. 
 
 'The pint is,' proceeded Easton, 'when does the lecturer 
 intend to explain to us what is the real cause of poverty ? ' 
 
 ' 'Ear, 'ear '.'cried Harlow. 'That's what /want to know, too.' 
 
 ' And what 7 should like to know is, who is supposed to be 
 givin' this 'ere lecture ? ' enquired the man on the pail. 
 
 'Why, Owen, of course,' replied Harlow. 
 
 'Well, why don't you try to keep quiet for a few minutes 
 and let 'im get on with it ? ' 
 
 'The next blighter wot interrupts,' cried Philpot, rolling 
 up his shirt sleeves and glaring threateningly round upon the 
 meeting, 'goes out through the bloody winder!' 
 
 At this everybody pretended to be very frightened, and 
 edged away as far as possible from Philpot, except the man 
 
 222
 
 The Oblong 
 
 on the pail, who perhaps felt safer than the others because he 
 was, as usual, surrounded by a moat. 
 
 ' Poverty,' resumed the lecturer, ' consists of a shortage of 
 the necessaries of life which are produced from the Raw 
 Materials by the Workers, aided by Machinery. 
 
 ' Now there is plenty of Raw Material, plenty of Labour, 
 plenty of Machinery and yet nearly everybody is going short 
 of nearly everything. 
 
 ' It is the Money System which is the cause of this shortage, 
 which makes the worker starve in the midst of the means of 
 abundance, and binds him in helpless idleness with a fetter of 
 gold. 
 
 ' Let us examine the details of this imbecile Money System.' 
 
 Owen took a piece of charred wood from the grate and drew 
 a quadrangular figure on the wall. 
 
 This represents the whole of the adult population of the country. 
 
 ' To discover the cause of shortage of the things that can 
 be made by work, we must find how the people spend their 
 time. This oblong represents the whole of the adult population 
 of the country. All these people help to consume the things 
 made by work, but though the majority are workers, only a 
 comparatively small number actually produce the benefits of 
 civilization, or the necessaries of life.' 
 
 The lecturer turned to the drawing on the wall to make 
 some addition to it, then paused irresolutely and let his 
 arm drop to his side. 
 
 He knew how unwilling his hearers were to think about 
 such subjects as the cause of poverty. He knew they would 
 ridicule what he said and refuse to try to understand his 
 meaning if it was at all obscure. They would not worry their 
 heads about such an unimportant matter; it would be 
 different if it were a smutty story, or a game of hooks and 
 rings or shove halfpenny, or some question concerning foot- 
 
 223
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 ball, cricket or horseracing. The problem of the Cause of 
 Poverty was only something that concerned their own and 
 their children's welfare. Such an uninteresting subject must 
 be put before them so plainly that they would be compelled 
 to understand it at a glance, and this seemed almost impossible. 
 
 Observing his hesitation, some of the men began to snigger. 
 
 4 'E seems to 'ave got 'imself into a bit of a fog,' remarked 
 Crass to Slyme, in a loud whisper ; and both laughed. 
 
 The sound roused Owen, and he continued : 
 
 1 This figure represents the adult population of this country. 
 We will now divide them into separate classes. Those who 
 help to produce, those who do nothing, those who do harm, 
 and those who are engaged in unnecessary work.' 
 
 'And, 'sneered Crass, 'those who are engaged in unneces- 
 sary talk.' 
 
 ' First we will separate those who not only do nothing, but 
 do not even pretend to be of any use, people who would con- 
 sider themselves disgraced if they by any chance did any 
 useful work. This class includes Tramps, Beggars, the Aris- 
 tocracy, Society People, Great Landowners, and those people 
 possessed of hereditary wealth generally.' 
 
 As he spoke he drew a vertical line across one end of the oblong. 
 
 Tramps, 
 Beggars, 
 Society 
 People, 
 the ' Aris- 
 tocracy,' 
 Great 
 
 Landowners, 
 All those 
 
 possessed of 
 hereditary, 
 Wealth. 
 
 ' These people do absolutely nothing except devour or enjoy 
 the things produced by the labour of others. 
 
 'Our next division represents those who do work of a kind 
 " mental " work if you like to call it so work that benefits 
 themselves and harms other people. Employers or rather 
 Exploiters of Labour, Thieves, Swindlers, Pickpockets, 
 profit-seeking Shareholders, Burglars, Bishops, Financiers, 
 Capitalists, and those persons humourously called "Ministers " 
 of religion. If you remember that the word "minister" 
 means " servant ", you will be able to see the joke. None of 
 
 224
 
 The Oblong 
 
 these people produce anything themselves, but by means of 
 cunning and scheming they contrive between them to obtain 
 possession of a very large portion of the things produced by 
 the labour of others. 
 
 Tramps, 
 
 Exploiters of 
 
 
 Beggars, 
 
 Labour, 
 
 
 4 Society 
 
 Thieves, 
 
 
 People.' 
 
 Swindlers, 
 
 
 The ' Aris- 
 
 Pickpockets, 
 
 
 tocracy,' 
 
 Burglars, 
 
 
 Great 
 
 Bishops, 
 
 
 Landowners, 
 
 Financiers, 
 
 
 All those 
 
 Capitalists, 
 
 
 possessed of 
 
 Shareholders, 
 
 
 hereditary 
 
 1 Ministers' of 
 
 
 Wealth. 
 
 Religion. 
 
 
 'Number three stands for those who work for wages or 
 salaries, doing unnecessary work : that is, producing or doing 
 things which, though useful and necessary to the Imbecile 
 System, cannot be described as the necessaries of life or the 
 benefits of civilisation. This is the largest section of all. It com- 
 prises Commercial Travellers, Canvassers, Insurance Agents, 
 Commission Agents, the greater number of Shop Assistants, 
 the majority of Clerks, Workmen employed in the construction 
 and adornment of business premises, People occupied with 
 what they call "Business", which means being very busy 
 without producing anything. Then there is a vast army of 
 people engaged in designing, composing, painting or printing 
 advertisements, things which are for the most part of no utility 
 whatever, the object of most advertisements being merely to 
 persuade people to buy from one firm rather than another.' 
 
 During the delivery of this part of the lecture the audience 
 began to manifest symptoms of impatience and dissent. Per- 
 ceiving this, Owen, speaking very rapidly, continued : 
 
 Tramps, 
 
 Exploiters of 
 
 All those engaged in 
 
 
 Beggars, 
 1 Society 
 
 Labour, 
 Th ieves, 
 
 unnecessary work. 
 
 
 People,' 
 
 Swindlers, 
 
 
 
 The ' Aris- 
 
 Pickpockets, 
 
 
 
 tocracy,' 
 
 Burglars, 
 
 
 
 (Jreat 
 
 Bishops, 
 
 
 
 Landowners, 
 
 Financiers, 
 
 
 
 All those 
 
 Capitalists, 
 
 
 
 possessed of 
 
 Shareholders, 
 
 
 
 hereditary 
 
 Ministers' of 
 
 
 
 Wraith. 
 
 Religion. 
 
 
 
 225
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 ' If you go down town you will see half a dozen drapers' 
 shops within a stone's throw of each other, all selling the 
 same things. You can't possibly think that all those shops are 
 really necessary ? You know that one of them would serve 
 the purpose for which they are all intended. If you will admit 
 that five out of the six shops are really unnecessary, you 
 must also admit that the men who built them, and the assist- 
 ants engaged in them, and the men who design and write and 
 print their advertisements, are all doing unnecessary work, 
 wasting their time and labour, which might be employed in 
 helping to produce those things we are short of at present. 
 You must admit that none of these people are engaged in 
 producing either the necessaries of life or the benefits of civil- 
 isation. They handle them, and haggle over them, and display 
 them, and make profit out of them, but these people them- 
 selves produce nothing that is necessary to life or happiness, 
 and the things that some of them do produce are only necessary 
 to the present imbecile system.' 
 
 1 What the 'ell sort of a bloody system do you think we 
 ought to 'ave, then ? ' interrupted the man on the pail. 
 
 ' Yes. You're very good at finding fault,' sneered Styme, 
 ' but why don't 3"ou tell us 'ow it's all going to be put right? ' 
 
 ' Well, that's not what we're talking about now, is it ? ' re- 
 plied Owen. ' At present we're only trying to find out how it 
 is that there is not sufficient produced for everyone to have 
 enough of the things that are made by work. Although most 
 of the people in number three work very hard they produce 
 Nothing.' 
 
 ' This is a lot of bloody rot ! ' exclaimed Crass, impatiently. 
 
 1 Even if there is more shops than what's actually necessary,' 
 cried Harlow, ' it all helps people to get a livin' ! If half of 'em 
 was shut up it would just mean that all them what works 
 there would be out of a job. Live and let live, I say : all these 
 things makes work.' 
 
 4 'Ear 'ear ! ' shouted the man behind the moat. 
 
 'Yes, I know it makes "work",' replied Owen, 'but we 
 can't live on mere " work ", you know. To live in comfort we 
 need a sufficiency of the things that can be made by work. 
 A man might work very hard and yet be wasting his time if 
 he were not producing something necessary or useful. 
 
 1 Why are there so many shops and stores and emporiums? 
 Do you imagine they exist for the purpose of giving those who 
 
 226
 
 The Oblong 
 
 build them, or work in them, a chance to earn a living? 
 Nothing of the sort. They are carried on, and exorbitant prices 
 are charged for the goods, to enable the proprietors to amass 
 fortunes, and to pay extortionate rents to the landlords. That 
 is why the wages and salaries of nearly all those who do the 
 work created by these businesses are cut down to the lowest 
 possible point. 
 
 'We knows all about that,' said Crass, 'but you can't get 
 away from it that all these things makes Work ; and that's 
 what we wants Plenty of Work.' 
 
 Cries of "Ear, 'ear' and expressions of dissent from the 
 views expressed by the lecturer resounded through the room, 
 nearly even-one speaking at the same time. After a while, when 
 the row had in some measure subsided, Owen resumed : 
 
 'Nature has not provided ready made all the things 
 necessary for the life and happiness of mankind. In order to 
 obtain those things we have to Work. The only rational labour 
 is that which is directed to the creation of those things. Any 
 kind of work which does not help us to attain this object is a 
 ridiculous, idiotic, criminal, imbecile waste of time. 
 
 ' That is what the great army of people represented by divi- 
 sion number three are doing at present ; they are all very 
 busy, working very hard, but to all useful intents and purposes 
 they are doing Nothing. 
 
 'The next division stands for those who are engaged in really 
 useful work : the production of the benefits of civilisation, the 
 refinements and comforts of life.' 
 
 1 Hooray,' cried Philpot, winking his goggle eyes at the 
 meeting, * this is where we come in ! ' 
 
 Tramps, 
 Beggars, 
 
 Exploiters of 
 Labour, 
 
 All those engaged in 
 unnecessary work. 
 
 All those 
 engaged in 
 
 
 ' Society 
 
 Thieves, 
 
 
 necessary work 
 
 Q 
 
 People,' 
 
 Swindlers, 
 
 
 the production 
 
 W 
 > 
 
 The ' Aris- 
 
 Pickpockets, 
 
 
 of the benefits 
 
 o 
 
 tocracy,' 
 
 Burglars, 
 
 
 of civilisation. 
 
 
 Great 
 
 Bishops, 
 
 
 
 a. 
 
 Landowners, 
 
 Financiers, 
 
 
 
 ". 
 
 All those 
 
 Capitalists, 
 
 
 
 a| 
 
 possessed of 
 
 Shareholders, 
 
 
 
 J5 
 
 \ 
 
 hereditary 
 
 ' Ministers' of 
 
 
 
 i-j 
 
 Wealth. 
 
 Religion. 
 
 
 
 
 ' As most of the people in number four are out of work at 
 least one quarter of their time, we must reduce the size of 
 
 227
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 this division by one fourth so. The grey represents the un- 
 employed.' 
 
 The lecturer now drew a small square upon the wall below 
 the other drawing. This square he filled in solid black. 
 
 'This represents the total amount of the benefits of civilisa- 
 tion and necessaries of life produced by the people in number 
 
 Tramps, 
 
 Exploiters of 
 
 All those engaged in 
 
 All those 
 
 
 Beggars, 
 Society 
 
 Labour, 
 Thieves, 
 
 unnecessary work. 
 
 engaged in 
 necessary work 
 
 
 
 People,' 
 The Aris- 
 
 Swindlers, 
 Pickpockets, 
 
 
 the production 
 of the benefits 
 
 w 
 o 
 
 tocracy,' 
 
 Burglars, 
 
 
 of civilisation. 
 
 3 
 
 Great 
 
 Bishops, 
 
 
 
 K 
 
 Landowners. 
 
 Financiers, 
 
 
 
 S 
 
 All those 
 
 Capitalists, 
 
 
 
 M 
 
 possessed of 
 
 Shareholders, 
 
 
 
 R 
 
 hereditary 
 
 ' Ministers' of 
 
 
 
 P 
 
 Wealth. 
 
 Religion. 
 
 
 
 
 This represent-; the 
 total of the things 
 produced by the 
 people in division 4. 
 
 Tramps, 
 
 Exploiters of 
 
 All those engaged in 
 
 All those 
 
 
 Beggars, 
 
 Labour, 
 
 unnecessary work. 
 
 engaged in 
 
 
 Society 
 
 Thieves, 
 
 
 necessary work 
 
 
 People,' 
 The Aris- 
 
 Swindlers, 
 Pickpockets, 
 
 
 the production 
 of the benefits 
 
 O 
 
 tocracy ' 
 
 Burglars, 
 
 
 of civilisation. 
 
 3 
 
 Great 
 
 Bishops, 
 
 
 
 A, 
 
 Landowners, 
 
 Financiers, 
 
 
 
 S 
 
 All those 
 
 Capitalists, 
 
 
 
 W 
 
 possessed of 
 
 Shareholders, 
 
 
 
 J3 
 
 hereditary 
 
 'Mini>ters' of 
 
 
 
 
 Wealth. 
 
 Religion. 
 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 How the things produced by the people in division 4 are ' shared out amongst th 
 differed classes of the population. 
 
 228
 
 The Oblong 
 
 four. We now proceed to "share out" the things in the 
 same way as they are actually divided amongst the different 
 classes of the population under the present imbecile system. 
 
 ' As the people in divisions one and two are universally 
 considered to be the most worthy and deserving, we give 
 them two thirds of the whole. 
 
 ' The remainder we give to be ' shared out ' amongst the 
 people represented by divisions three and four. 
 
 4 Now, you musn't run away with the idea that the people 
 in three and four take their share quietly and divide the things 
 equally between them. Some get more than their fair share, 
 some get very little, some none at all. It is in these two 
 divisions that "the battle of life," rages most fiercely. 
 
 ' And all these people in numbers three and four are so fully 
 occupied in this dreadful struggle to secure a little that but 
 few of them pause to enquire why there are not more of the 
 things they are fighting for, or why it is necessary to fight 
 like this at all ! The best of everything is reserved exclusively 
 for the enjoyment of the people in divisions one and two, while 
 the workers subsist on block ornaments, margarine, adulter- 
 ated tea, mysterious beer, and are content, only grumbling 
 when they are unable to obtain even such fare as this.' 
 
 Owen paused, and a gloomy silence followed, but 
 suddenly Crass brightened up. He had detected a serious 
 flaw in the lecturer's argument. 
 
 ' You say the people in one and two gets all the best of 
 everything, but what about the Tramps and Beggars ? You've 
 got them in division one ! ' 
 
 4 Yes ; I know. You see, that's the proper place for them. 
 They belong to the loafer class. They are no better mentally 
 or morally than any of the other loafers in that division, 
 neither are they of any more. use. Of course, when we con- 
 sider them in relation to the amount they consume of the 
 things produced by others they are not so harmful as the 
 other loafers, because they consume comparatively little. 
 But all the same they are in their right place in that division. 
 All those people in division one don't get the same share. The 
 section represents not individuals but the Loafer Class.' 
 
 4 But I thought you said you was goin' to prove that 
 money was the cause of poverty,' said Easton. 
 
 4 So it is,' said Owen. 4 Can't you see that it's money that's 
 caused all these people to lose sight of the true purpose of 
 
 229
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 labour the production of the things we needf? They are 
 suffering from the delusion that it doesn't matter what kind 
 of work they do, or whether they merely do nothing, so 
 long as they get money for doing it. Under the present extra- 
 ordinary system that's the only object they have in view to 
 get money. Their ideas are so topsy-turvey that they regard 
 with contempt those who are engaged in useful work ! With 
 the exception of criminals and the poorer sort of loafers, the 
 working classes are considered to be the lowest and least 
 worthy in the community. Those who manage to get money 
 for doing unproductive work are considered more worthy of 
 respect on that account. Those who do nothing themselves 
 but get money out of the labour of others are regarded as 
 being more worthy still ! But the ones who are esteemed 
 most of all and honoured above all the rest are those who 
 obtain money for doing absolutely nothing ! ' 
 
 4 But I can't see as that proves that money is the cause of 
 poverty,' said Easton. 
 
 4 Look here,' said Owen ; ' the people in division four pro- 
 duce everything, don't they ? ' 
 
 'Yes, we knows all about that,' interrupted Harlow; 4 but 
 they get's paid for it, don't they ? They gets their wages.' 
 
 'Yes, and what does their wages consist of?' said Owen. 
 
 4 Why, money of course,' replied Harlow, impatiently. 
 
 4 And what do they do with their money when they get it ? 
 Do they eat it, or drink it, or wear it ? ' 
 
 At this apparently absurd question several of those who 
 had hitherto been attentive listeners laughed derisively; it 
 was really very difficult to listen patiently to such nonsense. 
 
 4 Of course they don't,' answered Harlow, scornfully, 4 they 
 buy the things they want with it.' 
 
 4 Do you think that most of them manage to save a part of 
 their wages put it away, in the bank.' 
 
 4 Well, I can speak for meself,' replied Harlow, amid 
 laughter ; 4 it takes me all my bloody time to pay my rent and 
 other expenses and to keep my little lot in shoe leather ; and 
 it's dam little I spend on beer, p'raps a tanner or a bob a 
 week at the most.' 
 
 4 A single man can save money if he likes,' said Slyme. 
 
 ' I'm not speaking of single men,' replied Owen, 4 I'm 
 referring to those who live natural lives.' 
 
 4 What about all the money what's in the Post Office 
 
 230
 
 The Oblong 
 
 Savings Bank, and Building and Friendly Societies ? ' said 
 Crass. 
 
 4 A very large part of that belongs to people who are in 
 business, or who have some other source of income than 
 their own wages. There are some exceptionally fortunate 
 workers who happen to have good situations and higher 
 wages than the ordinary run of workmen. Then there are 
 some who are so placed by letting lodgings for instance 
 that they are able to live rent free ; others whose wives go 
 out to work ; and others again who have exceptional jobs 
 and work a lot of overtime. But these are all exceptional 
 cases.' 
 
 1 1 say as no married workin' man can save any money at 
 all,' shouted Harlow, 'not unless 'e goes without some of 
 even the few things we are able to get and makes 'is wife 
 and kids go without as well.' 
 
 4 'Ear, 'ear ! ' said everybody except Crass and Slyme, who 
 were both thrifty working men, each of whom had some 
 money saved in one or other of the institutions mentioned. 
 
 1 Then that means,' said Owen, ' that the wages received 
 by the people in division four is not equivalent to the work 
 they do.' 
 
 ' Wotcher mean, quiverlent ? ' cried Crass. ' Why the 'ell 
 don't yer talk plain English without draggin' in a lot of long 
 words wot nobody can't understand ? ' 
 
 4 1 mean this,' replied Owen, speaking very slowly. ' Every- 
 thing is produced by the people in number four. In return for 
 their work they are given Money, and the things they have 
 made become the property of tbe people who do nothing. 
 Then, as the money is of no use, the workers go to shops 
 and give it away in exchange for some of the things they 
 themselves have made. They spend or give back all their 
 wages ; but as the money they got as wages is not equal in 
 value to the things they produced, they find that they are 
 only able to buy back a very sntall part. So you see that 
 these little disks of metal, this Money, is a device for 
 enabling those who do not work to rob the workers of the 
 greater part of the fruits of their toil.' 
 
 The silence that ensued was broken by Crass. 
 4 It sounds very pretty,' he sneered, 'but I can't make no 
 'ead or tail of it, meself.' 
 
 'Look here!' cried Owen. 4 The Producing Class these 
 
 231
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 people in number four, are supposed to be paid for their work. 
 Their wages are supposed to be equal in value to their work. 
 But it's not so. If it were, by spending all their wages, the 
 Producing Class would be able to buy all they have pro- 
 duced. 
 
 ' But even if we include the whole of the working classes,' 
 continued Owen, ' that is, the people in number three as well as 
 those in number four, we find that their combined wages are 
 insufficient to buy the things made by the producers. The total 
 value of the wealth produced in this country during the last 
 year was ,^1,800,000,000, and the total amount paid in wages 
 during the same period was only ^600,000,000. In other 
 words, by means of the Money Trick, the workers were robbed 
 of two-thirds of the value of their labour. All the people in 
 numbers three and four are working and suffering and starving 
 and fighting in order that the rich people in numbers one and 
 two may live in luxury and do nothing. These are the wretches 
 who cause poverty : they not only devour or waste or hoard the 
 things made by the workers, but as soon as their own wants 
 are supplied they compel the workers to cease working and 
 prevent them producing the things they need. Most of these 
 people,' cried Owen, his usually pale face flushing red and 
 his eyes shining with sudden anger, 'most of these people do 
 not deserve to be called human beings at all. They're devils ! 
 They know that whilst they are indulging in pleasures of 
 every kind, all around them men and women and little chil- 
 dren are existing in want or dying of hunger.' 
 
 The silence which followed was at length broken by Harlow. 
 
 ' You say the workers is entitled to all they produce, but 
 you forget there's the raw materials to pay for. They don't 
 make them, you know.' 
 
 ' Of course the workers don't create the raw materials,' re- 
 plied Owen. ' But I am not aware that the capitalists or the 
 landlords do so either. The raw materials exist in abundance 
 in and on the earth, but they are of no use until labour has 
 been applied to them." 
 
 I But then, you see, the earth belongs to the landlords ! ' 
 cried Crass, unguardedly. 
 
 ' 1 know that ; and of course you think it's right that the 
 whole country should belong to a few people ' 
 
 I 1 must call the lecturer to horder,' interrupted Philpot. 
 'The land question is not before the meeting at present,' 
 
 232
 
 The Oblong 
 
 ' You talk about the producers being robbed of most of the 
 value of what they produce,' said Harlow, ' but you must re- 
 member that it ain't all produced by hand labour. What about 
 the things what's made by machinery ? ' 
 
 'The machines themselves were made by the workers,' re- 
 turned Owen, ' but of course they do not belong to the workers, 
 who have been robbed of them by means of the Money Trick.' 
 
 1 But who invented all the machinery ? ' cried Crass. 
 
 1 Certainly not the wealthy loafer class, or the landlords, 
 or the employers,' replied Owen. ' Most inventors have lived 
 and died unknown and often in actual want. The workers 
 produce Everything. Look around 3^ou : Factories, Machine^, 
 Houses, Railways, Tramways, Canals, Furniture, Clothing. 
 Food, the very roads you walk on, are all made by the working 
 class,,'whose wages only buy back a very small part of the things 
 they produce. Therefore what remains in the possession of 
 their masters represents the difference between the value of 
 their work and their wages paid fordoing it. This systematic 
 robbery has been going on for generations. The value of the 
 accumulated loot is enormous, and all of the wealth at present 
 in the possession of the rich is the property of the Working 
 Class, stolen from them by means of the Money Trick.' 
 
 Owen got down from his pulpit, and his listeners stared 
 uncomfortably at each other. They were compelled to do a 
 little thinking on their own account, and it was an unusual 
 and painful process. 
 
 For some moments an oppressive silence prevailed. Several 
 men had risen from their seats and were attentively studying 
 the diagrams on the wall, and nearly all the others were trying 
 to think of something to say in defence of those who robbed 
 them of the fruits of their toil. 
 
 4 1 don't see no bloody sense in always runnin' down the 
 rich,' said Harlow, at last. 'There's always been rich and poor 
 in the world, and there always will be.' 
 
 ' Of course,' said Slyme, 'it says in the Bible that the poor 
 shall always be with us.' 
 
 ' What the bloody 'ell kind of system do you think we ought 
 to 'ave ? ' demanded Crass, ' If hevery thing's wrong, 'ow's it 
 goin' to be haltered ? ' 
 
 At this everybody brightened up again and exchanged 
 looks of satisfaction and relief. Of course ! It wasn't necessary 
 to think about these things at all ! Nothing could ever be
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 altered : it had always been more or less the same, and it al- 
 ways would be. 
 
 'It seems to me that you all hope it is impossible to alter 
 it,' said Owen. ' Without trying to find out whether it could 
 be done, you persuade yourselves that it is impossible, and 
 then, instead of being sorry, you're glad ! ' 
 
 Some of them laughed in a silly, half ashamed way. 
 
 I How do you reckon it could be altered ? ' said Harlow. 
 'The way to alter it is, first, to enlighten thep eople as to 
 
 the real cause of their sufferings, and then ' 
 
 4 Well,' interrupted Crass, with a self-satisfied chuckle, ' it'll 
 
 take a bloody better man than you to henlighten me \ ' 
 
 ' I don't want to be henlightened into Darkness ! ' said 
 
 Slyme, piously. 
 
 ' But what sort of a system do you propose, then/ repeated 
 
 Harlow, 'after you've got 'em all enlightened? If you don't 
 
 believe in sharing out all the money equal, how are you goin' 
 
 to alter it ? ' 
 
 I 1 don't know 'ow 'e's goin' to alter it,' sneered Crass, look- 
 ing at his watch and standing up, ' but I do know what the 
 time is two minits past one ! ' 
 
 'The next lecture,' said Philpot, addressing the meeting as 
 they all prepared to return to work, ' the next lecture will be 
 postponded till to-morrower at the usual time, when it will 
 be my painful dooty to call upon Mr Owen to give 'is well 
 known and most hobnoxious address entitled ' Work, and 
 how to avoid it." Hall them as wants to be henlightened 
 kindly attend.' 
 
 'Or hall them as don't get the sack to-night,' remarked 
 Easton, grimly. 
 
 2 34
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 THE SLAUGHTER 
 
 THE lecture announced by Philpot was not delivered. The 
 men had had a surfeit of what they called politics ; besides 
 they had something even more disagreeable to think about 
 the impending slaughter. 
 
 About three o'clock in the afternoon Misery arrived and 
 informed all the hands with the exception of Crass, Owen, 
 Slyme and Sawkins that they would have to stand off that 
 night. He told them that the firm had several jobs in view, 
 work they had tendered for and hoped to get, and said they 
 could look round after Christmas and he might, possibly, 
 be able to start some of them again. They would be paid at 
 the office to-morrow Saturday at one o'clock as usual, but 
 if any of them wished they could have their money that 
 night. The men thanked him, and most of them said they 
 would come for their wages at the usual pay time and would 
 call round, as he suggested, after the holidays to see if there 
 was anything to do. 
 
 In all fifteen men, including Philpot, Harlow, Easton and 
 Ned Dawson, were to ' stand off.' They took their dismissal 
 stolidly, without any remark, some of them even with an 
 affectation of indifference, but there were few attempts at 
 conversation afterwards. The little work that remained to be 
 done was done in silence, every man oppressed by the same 
 terror the dread of the impending privation and unhappi- 
 ness which they and their families would have to suffer 
 during the next few months. 
 
 Bundy and his mate Dawson were working in the kitchen 
 fixing the new range in place of the old one which they had 
 taken out. They had been engaged on this job all day, and 
 their hands and faces and clothes were covered with soot, 
 which they had also contrived to smear and dab all over the 
 surfaces of the doors and other woodwork in the room, much 
 
 235
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 to the indignation of Crass and Slyme, who had to wash it 
 all off before they could put on the final coat of paint. 
 
 1 You can't help makin' a little mess on a job of this kind, 
 you know,' remarked Bundy, as he was giving the finish- 
 ing touches to the work, making good the broken parts of 
 the wall with cement, whilst his mate was clearing away the 
 debris. 
 
 1 Yes, but there's no need to claw 'old of the bloody doors 
 every time you goes in and out,' snarled Crass; ' and you 
 could 'ave put yer tools on the floor instead of makin' a bench 
 of the dresser.' 
 
 4 You can 'ave the bloody place all to yerself in about five 
 minutes,' replied Bundy, as he assisted to lift a sack of 
 cement weighing about two hundredweight on to Dawson's 
 back. 'We're finished now.' 
 
 When they had cleared away all the dirt and fragments of 
 bricks and mortar, while Crass and Slyme proceeded with 
 the painting, Bundy and Da wson loaded up their hand-cart with 
 the old range and the bags of unused cement and plaster, which 
 they took back to the yard. Meantime, Misery was wander- 
 ing about the house and grounds like an evil spirit seeking rest 
 and finding none. He stood for some time gloomily watching 
 the four gardeners, who were busily at work laying strips of 
 turf, mowing the lawn, rolling the gravel paths and trimming 
 the trees and bushes. The boy Bert, Philpot, Harlow, Easton 
 and Sawkins were loading a hand-cart with ladders and 
 empty paint pots to return to the yard. Just as they were 
 setting out Misery stopped them, remarking that the cart 
 was not half loaded. He said it would take a month to get 
 all the stuff away if they went on like that ; so by his direc- 
 tion they placed another long ladder on top of the pile and 
 once more started on their way. But before they had gone 
 two dozen yards one of the wheels of the cart collapsed and 
 the load was scattered over the roadway. Bert was at the 
 same side of the cart as the wheel that broke and he was 
 thrown violently to the ground, where he lay half stunned, 
 in the midst of the ladders and planks. When they got him 
 out they were astonished to find that, thanks to the special 
 Providence that watches over all small boys, he was almost 
 unhurt just a little dazed, that was all ; and by the time 
 Sawkins returned with another cart, he was able to help to 
 gather up the fallen paint pots and to accompany the men 
 
 236
 
 The Slaughter 
 
 with the load to the yard. At the corner of the road they 
 paused to take a last look at the 'job.' 
 
 'There it stands!' said Harlow, tragically extending his 
 arm towards the house. 'There it stands ! A job that if they'd 
 only have let us do it properly couldn't 'ave been done with 
 the number of 'ands we've 'ad in less than four months ! And 
 there it is, finished, messed up, slobbered over and scamped, 
 in nine weeks ! ' 
 
 1 Yes, and now we can all go to 'ell.' said Philpot, gloomily. 
 At the yard they found Bundy and his mate, Ned Dawson, 
 who helped them to hang up the ladders in their usual places. 
 Philpot was glad to get out of assisting to do this for he had 
 contracted a rather severe attack of rheumatism when work- 
 ing outside at the 'Cave.' Whilst the others were putting 
 the ladders away he assisted Bert to carry the paint pots and 
 buckets into the paint shop, where he filled a small medicine 
 bottle he had brought with him for the purpose with 
 turpentine from the tank. He wanted this stuff to rub into 
 his shoulders and legs, and as he secreted the bottle in the 
 inner pocket of his coat, he muttered: 'This is where we 
 gets some of our own back.' 
 
 They took the key of the yard to the office, and as they 
 separated to go home Bundy suggested that the best thing 
 they could do would be to sew their bloody mouths up for a 
 few months because there was not much probability of their 
 getting another job until about March. 
 
 The next morning while Crass and Slyme were finishing 
 inside Owen wrote the two gates, on the front entrance, 'The 
 Cave,' and on the back, 'Tradesmen's Entrance,' in gilded 
 letters. In the meantime Sawkins and Bert made several 
 journeys to the yard with the hand-cart. 
 
 Crass, working in the kitchen with Slyme, was very 
 silent and thoughtful. Ever since the job was started, every 
 time Mr Sweater had visited the house to see what progress 
 was being made Crass had been grovelling to him in the 
 hope of receiving a tip when the work was finished. He had 
 been very careful to act upon any suggestions that Sweater 
 had made, and had taken a lot of trouble to get just the right 
 tints of certain colours, making up a number of different 
 shades and combinations, and doing parts of the skirtings or 
 mouldings of rooms in order that Mr Sweater might see 
 exactly what it would look like when finished. He made a great 
 
 237
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 pretence of deferring to Sweater's opinion, and assured him 
 that he did not care how much trouble he took as long as he 
 was pleased. As the work neared completion Crass began to 
 speculate upon the probable amount of the donation he would 
 receive as the reward of nine weeks of cringing, fawning, abject 
 servility. He thought it quite possible that he might get a 
 quid ! It would not be too much, considering all the trouble he 
 had taken. At any rate he felt certain that he was sure to get 
 ten bob: a gentleman like Mr Sweater would never have the 
 cheek to offer less. The more he thought about it the more 
 improbable it appeared that the amount would be less than 
 a quid, and he made up his mind that whatever he got he 
 would take good care that none of the other men knew any- 
 thing about it. He was the one who had had all the worry ol 
 the job, and he was the only one entitled to anything there 
 was to be had. Besides, by the time a quid was divided up 
 amongst a dozen, or even two or three, it would not be 
 worth having. 
 
 At about eleven o'clock Mr Sweater arrived and began to 
 walk over the house, followed by Crass, who carried a pot of 
 paint and a small brush and made believe to be 'touching 
 up ' and finishing off parts of the work. As Sweater went from 
 one room to another Crass repeatedly placed himself in the 
 way in the hope of being spoken to, but Sweater took no 
 notice of him whatever. Once or twice Grass's heart began to 
 beat quickly as he furtively watched the great man and saw 
 him thrust his thumb and finger into his waistcoat pocket ; 
 but on each occasion Sweater withdrew his hand with nothing 
 in it. After a while, observing that the gentleman was about 
 to depart without having spoken, Crass determined to break 
 the ice himself. 
 
 1 It's a little better weather we're 'avin' now, sir.' 
 
 1 Yes.' replied Sweater. 
 
 ' I was beginnin' to be afraid as I shouldn't be hable to git 
 heverything finished in time for you to move in before 
 Christmas, sir,' Crass continued ; ' but it's hall done now, 
 sir.' 
 
 Sweater made no reply. 
 
 ' I've kep the fires agoin' in hall the rooms, has you told 
 me, sir.' resumed Crass, after a pause. ' I think you'll find 
 as the place is nice and dry, sir ; the honly places as is a bit 
 damp is the kitching and scullery and the other rooms in the 
 
 238
 
 The Slaughter 
 
 basement, sir, but of course that's nearly halways the case 
 sir, when the rooms is partly hunder ground, sir. But of 
 course it don't matter so much about the basement, sir,' he 
 continued, 'because it's honly the servants what 'as to use 
 it, sir, and even down there it'll be hall right hin the 
 summer, sir.' 
 
 One would scarcely have guessed from the contemptuous 
 way in which Crass spoke of 'servants' that his own 
 daughter was ' in service.' 
 
 'Oh, yes ; there's no doubt about that,' replied Sweater as 
 he moved towards the front door ; ' there's no doubt it will 
 be dry enough in the summer. Good morning.' 
 
 'Good morning to you, sir,' said Crass, following him. 'I 
 'opes as you're pleased with all the work, sir; everything 
 satisfactory, sir.' 
 
 ' Oh, yes, I think it looks very nice ; very nice indeed ; 
 I'm very pleased with it,' said Sweater affably. 'Good morning.' 
 
 ' Good morning, sir,' replied the foreman with a sickly smile, 
 as Sweater departed. 
 
 Crass sat down dejectedly on the bottom step of the stairs, 
 overwhelmed by the ruin of his expectations. There was just 
 a chance yet, as he would have to come to the house on 
 Monday and Tuesday to fix the Venetian blinds. But it was 
 a forlorn hope as Sweater rarely visited the job early in the 
 week, and if he had meant to give anything he would have 
 done so that day. Still, pulling himself together, Crass deter- 
 mined to hope for the best and returned to the kitchen. He 
 had not mentioned his expectations of a tip to his mates, but 
 they eyed him keenly as he entered, fully determined to get 
 their share. 
 
 'What did 'e give yer ? ' demanded Sawkins going straight 
 to the point. 
 
 ' Give me ? ' replied Crass. ' Nothink ! ' 
 
 Slyme laughed in a sneering, incredulous way, but Sawkins 
 was inclined to be abusive. He averred that he had been 
 watching Crass and Sweater and had seen the latter put his 
 thumb and finger into his waistcoat pocket as he walked into 
 the dining-room followed by Crass. It took the latter a long 
 time to convince them of the truth of his own account, but he 
 succeeded at last, and they all three agreed that Old Sweater 
 was a sanguinary rotter, and lamented over the decay of the 
 good old fashioned customs. 
 
 2.39
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 By half-past twelve everything was squared up, and having 
 loaded up the cart they set out together for the yard. It was 
 an unusually fine day for the time of year, and as they 
 passed along the Grand Parade, which faced due south, they 
 felt quite warm. The Parade was crowded with richly dressed 
 people, whose countenances in many instances bore un- 
 mistakable signs of gluttony and excess. Mingling with and 
 part of this crowd were a number of well-fed looking 
 individuals dressed in long garments of black cloth of the 
 finest texture and broad brimmed soft felt hats. Most of these 
 persons had gold rings on their soft white fingers and glove- 
 like kid or calfskin boots on their feet. They were the 
 ' followers ' and ' servants ' of the lowly Carpenter of N azareth 
 the Man of Sorrows, who had not where to lay His head. 
 
 None of these black garbed ' disciples ' were associating 
 with the groups of unemployed carpenters, bricklayers, 
 plasterers and painters who stood here and there in the 
 carriage way, dressed in mean and shabby clothing and with 
 faces pale with privation. Many of these latter were known 
 to Crass and his mates with the cart, and nodded to them 
 as they passed or came over and walked a little distance by 
 their side, enquiring whether there was any news of another 
 job at Rushton's. 
 
 When they were about half way down the Parade, just 
 near the Fountain, they encountered a number of men on 
 whose arms were white bands with the word 'Collector' in 
 black letters. They carried collecting boxes and accosted the 
 people in the street, begging for money for the unemployed. 
 These men were skirmishers for the main body, which could 
 be seen some distance behind. 
 
 As the procession drew near, Sawkins steered the cart 
 into the kerb and halted as they went past. There were about 
 three hundred men altogether, marching four abreast. They 
 carried three large white banners with black letters : ' Thanks 
 to our Subscribers,' 'In aid of Genuine Unemployed/ 'The 
 Children must be Fed.' Although there were a number of 
 artizans in the procession, the majority of the men belonged 
 to what is called the unskilled labourer class. The skilled 
 artizan does not as a rule take part in such a procession 
 except as a last resource. There was also a sprinkling of the 
 unfortunate outcasts of society, tramps and destitute loafers. 
 
 Haggard and pale, shabbily or raggedly dressed, their 
 
 240
 
 The Slaughter 
 
 boots broken and down at heel, they slouched past. Some of 
 them stared about with a dazed or half wild expression, but 
 most of them walked with downcast eyes or staring blankly 
 straight in front of them. They appeared utterly broken- 
 spirited, hopeless and ashamed. 
 
 'Anyone can see what/A^y are,' sneered Crass ; ' there isn't 
 fifty genuine tradesmen in the whole crowd, and most of 'em 
 wouldn't work if they 'ad the offer of it.' 
 
 'That's just what I was thinkin',' agreed Sawkins with a 
 laugh. 
 
 ' There will be plenty of time to say that when they have 
 been offered work and have refused to do it,' said Owen. 
 
 'This sort of thing does the town a lot of 'arm,' remarked 
 Slyme ; ' it oughtn't to be allowed ; the police ought to stop it. 
 It's enough to drive all the gentry out of the place ! ' 
 
 ' Bloody disgraceful, I call it,' said Crass, ' marchin along 
 the Grand Parade on a beautiful day like this, just at the very 
 time when most of the gentry is out enjoyin' the fresh hair.' 
 
 'I suppose you think they ought to stay at home and 
 starve quietly,' said Owen. ' I don't see why these men 
 should care what harm they do to the town. The town doesn't 
 seem to care much what becomes of them. 1 
 
 ' Do you believe in this sort of thing, then ? ' asked Slyme. 
 
 ' No ; certainly not. I don't believe in begging as a favour 
 for what they are entitled to demand as a right from the 
 thieves who have robbed them and who are now enjoying the 
 fruits of their labour. From the look of shame on their faces 
 you might think that they were the criminals instead of being 
 the victims.' 
 
 ' Well you must admit that most of them is very inferior 
 men,' said Crass, with a self satisfied air. 'There's very few 
 good mechanics among them.' 
 
 'What about it if they are? What difference does that 
 make ? ' replied Owen. ' They're human beings, and they have 
 as much right to live as anyone else. What is called unskilled 
 labour is just as necessary and useful as yours or mine. I 
 am no more capable of doing the " unskilled " labour that 
 most of these men do, than they would be capable of doing 
 my work.' 
 
 'Well, if they was skilled tradesmen they might find it 
 easier to get a job,' said Crass. 
 
 Owen laughed offensively. 
 Q 241
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 ' Do you mean to say you think that if all these men could 
 be transformed into skilled carpenters, plasterers, bricklayers 
 and painters, that it would be easier for all those other chaps 
 whom we passed a little while ago to get work ? Is it possible 
 that you or any other sane man can believe anything so silly 
 as that?' 
 
 Crass did not reply. 
 
 1 If there is not enough work to employ all the mechanics 
 whom we see standing idle about the streets, how would it 
 help these labourers in this procession if they could all become 
 skilled workmen ? ' 
 
 Still Crass did not answer, and neither Slyme nor Sawkins 
 came to his assistance. 
 
 'If that could be done,' continued Owen, 'it would simply 
 make things worse for those who are already skilled mechanics. 
 There would be a greater number of skilled workers, keener 
 competition for skilled workmen's jobs, a larger number of 
 mechanics out of employment, and consequently improved 
 opportunities for employers to reduce wages. That is probably 
 the reason why the Liberal party, which consists for the 
 most part of exploiters of labour, procured the great Jim 
 Scalds to tell us that improved technical education is the 
 remedy for unemployment and poverty.' 
 
 ' I suppose you think Jim Scalds is a bloody fool, the same as 
 everybody else what don't see thingsjyowr way?' said Sawkins. 
 
 ' I should think he was a fool if I thought he believed what 
 he says. But I don't think he believes it. He says it because 
 he thinks the majority of the working classes are such fools 
 that they will believe him. If he didn't think that most of us 
 are fools he wouldn't tell us such a yarn as that.' 
 
 4 And I suppose you think as 'is opinion ain't far wrong,' 
 snarled Crass. 
 
 'We shall be better able to judge of that after the next 
 General Election,' replied Owen. ' If the working classes again 
 elect a majority of Liberal or Tory landlords and employers 
 to rule over them it will prove that Jim Scalds's estimate of 
 their intelligence is about right.' 
 
 ' Well, anyhow ' persisted Slyme, ' I don't think it's a right 
 thing that they should be allowed to go marchin' about like 
 that, driving visitors out of the town.' 
 
 ' What do you think they ought to do, then ? ' demanded 
 Owen. 
 
 242
 
 The Slaughter 
 
 ' Let the blighters go to the bloody workhouse ! ' shouted 
 Crass- 
 
 ' But before they could be received there they would have 
 to be absolutely homeless and destitute, and then the rate- 
 payers would have to keep them. It costs about twelve shill- 
 ings a week for each inmate, so it seems to me that it would 
 be more sensible and economical for the community to employ 
 them on some productive work.' 
 
 They had by this time arrived at the yard. The steps and 
 ladders were put away in their places, and the dirty paint 
 pots and pails were placed in the paint shop on the bench and 
 on the floor. With what had previously been brought back 
 there were a great many of these things, all needing to be 
 cleaned out, so Bert at any rate stood in no danger of being 
 out of employment for some time to come. 
 
 When they were paid at the office, Owen on opening his 
 envelope found it contained as usual a time sheet for the next 
 week, which meant that he was not 'stood off', although he 
 did not know what work there would be to do. Crass and 
 Slyme were both to go to ' The Cave ' to fix the Venetian 
 blinds, and Sawkins also was to come to work as usual. 
 
 243
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 CHRISTMAS EVE 
 
 FOR the rest of the week Owen continued to work down at 
 the yard with Sawkins, Crass and Slyme, painting some of the 
 ladders, steps and other plant belonging to the firm. 
 
 Every day some of the men who had been ' stood off' called 
 at the yard to ask if any other 'jobs' had 'come in'. From 
 these callers they heard all the news. Old Jack Linden had 
 not succeeded in getting anything to do at the trade since he 
 was discharged from Rushton's, and it was reported that he 
 was trying to earn a little money by hawking bloaters from 
 house to house. As for Philpot, he said that he had been round 
 to nearly all the firms in the town and none of them had any 
 work to speak of. 
 
 Newman, the man who was sacked for taking too much 
 pains with his work, had been arrested and sentenced to a 
 month's imprisonment because he had not been able to pay 
 his poor rates, and the Board of Guardians were allowing his 
 wife three shillings a week to maintain herself and the three 
 children. She had told Philpot that the landlord was threaten- 
 ing to turn them into the street, and would have seized their 
 furniture and sold it if it had been worth the expense of the 
 sale. 
 
 ' I feel ashamed of meself,' Philpot added, in confidence to 
 Owen, ' when I think of all the money I chuck away on beer. 
 If it wasn't for that I shouldn't be in such a hole meself now, 
 and I might be able to lend 'em a 'elpin' 'and.' 
 
 ' It ain't so much that I likes the beer, you know,' he con- 
 tinued, ' it's the company. When you ain't got no 'ome, in a 
 manner o' speakin', like me, the pub's about the only place 
 where you can get a little enjoyment. But you ain't very wel- 
 come there unless you spends your money.' 
 
 ' Is the three shillings all they have to live on ? ' 
 
 'I think she goes out charin' when she can get it,' replied 
 
 244
 
 Christmas Eve 
 
 Philpot. ' But I don't see as she can do a great deal o' that 
 with three young 'uns to look after; and from \.hat I hear of 
 it she's only just got over a illness and ain't fit to do much.' 
 
 1 My God ! ' said Owen. 
 
 1 I'll tell you what,' said Philpot. ' I've been thinking we 
 might get up a bit of a subscription for 'em. There's several 
 chaps in work what knows Newman, and if they was each to 
 give a trifle we could get enough to pay for a Christmas dinner, 
 anyway. I've brought a sheet of foolscap with me, and I was 
 goin' to ask you to write out the heading for me.' 
 
 As there was no pen available at the workshop Philpot 
 waited till four o'clock and then accompanied Owen home, 
 where the heading of the list was written. Owen put his name 
 down for a shilling and Philpot put his for a similar amount. 
 
 Philpot stayed to tea and accepted an invitation to spend 
 Christmas Day with them, and to come to Frankie's party on 
 the Monday after. 
 
 The next morning Philpot brought the list to the yard and 
 Crass and Slyme put their names down for a shilling each, 
 and Sawkins for threepence, it being arranged that the money 
 was to be paid on pay-day Christmas Eve. In the meantime 
 Philpot was to see as many as he could of those who were 
 in work at other firms and get as many subscriptions as 
 possible. 
 
 At paytime on Christmas Eve Philpot turned up with the 
 list and Owen and the others paid him the amounts they had 
 put their names down for. From other men he had succeeded 
 in obtaining nine and sixpence, mostly in sixpences and three- 
 pences. Some of this money he had already received, but for 
 the most part he had made appointments with the subscribers 
 to call at their homes that evening. 
 
 It was decided that Owen should accompany him and also 
 go with him to hand over the money to Mrs Newman. 
 
 It took them nearly three hours to get in all the money, for 
 the places they had to go to were in different localities, and 
 in one or two cases they had to wait because their man had 
 not yet come home, and sometimes it was not possible to get 
 away without wasting a little time in talk. In three instances 
 those who had put down their names for threepence increased 
 the amount to sixpence, and one who had promised sixpence 
 gave a shilling. There were two items of threepence each which 
 they did not get at all, the individuals who had put their 
 
 245
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 names down having gone 'on the drunk.' Another cause of 
 delay was that they met or called on several other men who 
 had not yet been asked for a subscription, and there were 
 several others, including some members of the Painters' 
 Society, whom Owen had spoken to during the week, who 
 had promised him to give a subscription. In the end they 
 succeeded in increasing the total amount to nineteen and 
 ninepence, and they then put three halfpence each to make it 
 up to a pound. 
 
 The Newmans lived in a small house the rent of which was 
 six shillings per week and taxes. It stood at the end of a dark 
 and narrow passage between two shops, surrounded by the 
 high walls of the back parts of larger buildings, chiefly busi- 
 ness premises and offices. It was like living in a kind of well, 
 for the air could not circulate and the rays of the sun never 
 reached it. In the summer the atmosphere was close and foul 
 with the various odours which came from the back yards of 
 the adjoining buildings, and in the winter it was dark and 
 damp and gloomy, a culture ground for bacteria and microbes. 
 
 The front door opened into the living room, or rather kitchen, 
 which was dimly lighted by a small paraffin lamp on the table, 
 where were also some tea cups and saucers, each of a different 
 pattern, and the remains of a loaf of bread. The wall-paper 
 was old and discoloured. A few almanacs and unframed prints 
 were fixed to the walls, and on the mantelshelf were some 
 cracked and worthless vases and ornaments. At one time they 
 had possessed a clock and an overmantel and some framed 
 pictures, but they had all been sold to obtain money to buy 
 food. Furniture, pictures, bedclothes, carpet and oilcloth, piece 
 by piece, nearly everything that had once constituted the 
 home, had been either pawned or sold to buy food or to pay 
 rent during the times when Newman was out of work. Now 
 there was nothing left but these few old broken chairs and 
 the deal table which no one would buy ; and upstairs, the 
 wretched bedsteads and mattresses whereon they slept at 
 night, covering themselves with worn-out remnants of blankets 
 and the clothes they wore during the day. 
 
 In answer to Philpot's knock the door was opened by a 
 little girl about seven years old. She recognised Philpot at 
 once, and called out his name to her mother, who came to the 
 door closely followed by two other children, a little, fragile 
 looking girl about three, and a boy about five years of age, 
 
 246
 
 Christmas Eve 
 
 who held on to her skirt and peered curiously at the visitors. 
 Mrs Newman was about thirty, and her appearance continued 
 the statement of Philpot that she had only just recovered from 
 an illness : she was very white and thin and dejected looking. 
 When Philpot explained the object of their visit and handed 
 her the money, the poor woman burst into tears, and the two 
 smaller children, thinking that this piece of paper betokened 
 fresh calamity, began to cry also. They remembered that all 
 their troubles had been preceded by the visits of men who 
 brought pieces of paper, and it was rather difficult to reassure 
 them. 
 
 That evening after Frankie was asleep, Owen and Nora 
 went out to do their Christmas marketing. They had not much 
 money to spend, for Owen had brought home only seventeen 
 shillings. 
 
 There was a great deal to be done with this seventeen 
 shillings. First of all there was the rent seven shillings. 
 That left ten. Then there was the week's bread bill one and 
 threepence. They had a pint of milk every day, chiefly for the 
 boy's sake ; that came to one and two. Then there was one 
 and eight for a hundred-weight of coal that had been bought 
 on credit. Fortunately there were no groceries to buy, for the 
 things they had obtained with their Christmas club money 
 would be more than sufficient for the ensuing week. 
 
 Frankie's stockings were all broken and be3'ond mending, so 
 it was positively necessary to buy him another pair for five- 
 pence three farthings. These stockings were uot much good ; 
 a pair at double the price would have been much cheaper, for 
 they would have lasted three or four times longer ; but they 
 were out of the question. It was just the same with the coal : 
 if they had been able to afford it they could have bought a 
 ton of the same class of coal for twenty six shillings, but buy- 
 ing it as they did, by the hundred-weight, they had to pay at 
 the rate of thirty three shillings and fourpence a ton. It was 
 just the same with nearly everything else. This is how the 
 working classes are robbed. Although their incomes are the 
 lowest, they are compelled to buy the most expensive articles : 
 that is, the lowest priced articles. Everybody knows that 
 good clothes, boots or furniture are really the cheapest in the 
 end although they cost more money at first ; but the working 
 classes can seldom afford to buy good things : they have to 
 buy cheap rubbish which is dear at any price. 
 
 247
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 Six weeks previously Owen had bought a pair of second-hand 
 boots for three shillings and they were now literally falling 
 to pieces. Nora's shoes were in much the same condition, but, 
 as she said, it did not matter so much about hers because 
 there was no need for her to go out in wet weather. 
 
 In addition to the articles already mentioned they had to 
 spend fourpence for half a gallon of paraffin oil, and to put 
 sixpence into the slot of the gas-stove. This reduced the 
 money to five and sevenpence farthing and of this it was 
 necessary to spend a shilling on potatoes and other vegetables. 
 
 They both needed some new underclothing, for what they 
 had was so old and worn as to be almost useless ; but they 
 had now only four shillings and sevenpence farthing left, and 
 every penny of that was needed. They wanted to buy some- 
 thing special for Frankie for Christmas, and it would also be 
 necessary to get a toy for each of the children who were 
 coming to the party on the following Monday. Fortunately 
 there was no meat to buy, for Nora had been paying into the 
 Christmas Club at the butcher's as well as at the grocer's. 
 
 They stopped to look at the display of toys at Sweater's 
 Emporium. For several days past Frankie had been talking of 
 the wonders contained in these windows, so they wished if 
 possible to buy him something here. They recognised many 
 of the things from the description the boy had given of them, 
 but nearly everything was so dear that for a long time they 
 looked in vain for something it would be possible to buy. 
 
 1 That's the engine he talks so much about,' said Nora, in- 
 dicating a model railway locomotive; 'that one marked five 
 shillings.' 
 
 ' It might just as well be marked five pounds as far as we're 
 concerned,' replied Owen. 
 
 As they were speaking, one of the salesmen appeared at 
 the back of the window and reaching forward removed the 
 engine. It was probably the last one of the kind and had 
 evidently just been sold. Owen and Nora experienced a 
 certain amount of consolation in knowing that even if they 
 had had the money they would not have been able to buy it. 
 
 After lengthy consideration they decided on a clock-work 
 engine at a shilling ; but the other toys they resolved to buy 
 at a cheaper shop. Nora went into the Emporium to get the 
 engine and whilst Owen was waiting for her Mr and Mrs 
 Rushton came out. He did not appear to see Owen, who 
 
 248
 
 Christmas Eve 
 
 observed that the shape of one of several parcels they carried 
 suggested that it contained the engine that had been taken 
 from the window a little while before. 
 
 When Nora returned with her purchase they went in search 
 of a cheaper place and after a time they tound what they 
 wanted. For sixpence they bought a cardboard box that had 
 come all the way from Japan and contained a whole family 
 of dolls father, mother and four children of different sizes ; 
 and they bought a box of paints for threepence, a sixpenny 
 tea service, a threepenny drawing slate, and a sixpenny rag 
 doll. 
 
 On their way home they called at a greengrocer's where, 
 a few weeks before, Owen had ordered and paid for a small 
 Christmas tree. As they were turning the corner ot the 
 street where they lived they met Crass, half drunk, with a 
 fine fat goose slung over his shoulder by its neck. He greeted 
 Owen jovially and held up the bird for their inspection. 
 
 ' Not a bad tannersworth, eh ? ' he hiccoughed. ' This makes 
 two we've got. I won this and a box of cigars fifty for a 
 tanner ; and the other one I got out of the club at our Church 
 Mission 'All : threepence a week for twenty-eight weeks ; that 
 makes seven bob. But,' he added confidentially, 'you couldn't 
 buy 'em for that price in a shop, j^ou know. They costs the 
 committee a good bit more nor that wholesale ; but we've 
 got some rich gents on our committee and they makes up the 
 difference.' And with a nod and a cunning leer he lurched off. 
 
 Frankie was sleeping soundly when they reached home, 
 and after they had had some supper, although it was after 
 eleven o'clock, Owen fixed the tree in a large flower pot that 
 had served a similar purpose before, and Nora brought out 
 from the place where it had been stored away since last 
 Christmas a cardboard box containing a lot of glittering 
 tinsel ornaments globes of silvered or gilded or painted glass, 
 birds, butterflies and stars. Some of these things had done 
 duty three Christmases ago, but although they were in a few 
 instances slightly tarnished most of them were as good as 
 new. In addition to these and the toys they had bought that 
 evening they had a box of bon-bons and a box of small 
 coloured wax candles, both of which had formed part of the 
 things they got from the grocer's with the Christmas Club 
 money ; and there were also a lot of little coloured paper bags 
 of sweets, and a number of sugar and chocolate toys and 
 
 249
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 animals which had been bought two or three at a time for 
 several weeks past and put away for this occasion. There was 
 something suitable for each child who was coming, with the 
 exception of Bert White. They had intended to include a 
 sixpenny pocket knife for him in their purchases that evening, 
 but as they had not been able to afford this Owen decided to 
 give him an old set of steel graining combs which he knew 
 the lad had often longed to possess. The tin case containing 
 these tools was accordingly wrapped in some red tissue paper 
 and hung on the tree with the other things. 
 
 They moved about as quietly as possible so as not to 
 disturb those who were sleeping in the rooms beneath, 
 because long before they were finished the people in the other 
 parts of the house had all retired to rest, and silence had 
 fallen on the deserted streets outside. As they were putting 
 the final touches to their work the profound stillness of the 
 night was suddenly broken by the voices of a band of carol 
 singers. 
 
 The sound overwhelmed them with memories of other and 
 happier times, and Nora stretched out her hands impulsively 
 to Owen, who drew her close to his side. 
 
 They had been married just over eight years, and although 
 during all that time they had never been really free from 
 anxiety for the future, yet on no previous Christmas had they 
 been quite so poor as now. During the last few years periods 
 of unemployment had gradually become more frequent and 
 protracted, and the attempt he had made in the early part of 
 the year to get work elsewhere had only resulted in plunging 
 them into even greater poverty than before. But all the same 
 there was much to be thankful for : poor though they were, 
 they were far bet'er off than many thousands of others ; thev 
 still had food and shelter, and they had each other and 
 the boy. 
 
 Before they went to bed Owen carried the tree into 
 Frankie's bedroom and placed it so that he would be able to 
 see it in all its glittering glory as soon as he awoke on 
 Christmas morning. 
 
 250
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 THE 'PANDORAMER' 
 
 BERT WHITE had not only accepted the invitation to the 
 Christmas party but had promised to bring his home-made 
 ' Pandoramer ' with him, to entertain the other guests. It was, 
 as he explained, 'a show, like what they have at the Hippo- 
 drome' ; and he supplied his own orchestra in the shape of a 
 mouth organ. 
 
 Although the party was not to begin till six o'clock, Bert 
 turned up at half past four, bringing the ' Pandoramer ' under 
 his arm. 
 
 At about half past five the other guests began to arrive. Elsie 
 and Charley Linden came first, the girl in a pretty blue frock 
 trimmed with white lace, and Charley resplendent in a new 
 suit, which, like his sister's dress, had been made out of some- 
 body's cast off clothes that had been given to their mother by 
 a visiting lady. It had taken Mrs Linden many hours of hard 
 work to contrive these garments ; in fact, more time than the 
 things were worth, for although they looked all right, especi- 
 ally Elsie's, the stuff was so old that it would not wear very 
 long ; but as this was the only way in which she could get 
 clothes for the children, she spent hours and hours making 
 things which she knew would fall to pieces almost as soon as 
 they were made. 
 
 Then followed Nellie, Rosie and Tommy Newman, who pre- 
 sented a much less prosperous appearance as their mother 
 was not so skilful in contriving new clothes out of old. Nellie 
 was wearing a grown up woman's blouse, and by way of ulster 
 she had on an old-fashioned jacket of thick cloth with large 
 pearl buttons. This was also a grown up person's garment. 
 It was shaped to fit the figure of a tall woman with wide 
 shoulders and a small waist. Consequently it did not fit Nellie 
 to perfection, the waist reaching below the poor child's hips. 
 
 Tommy was arrayed in the patched remains of what had 
 
 251
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 once been a good suit of clothes. They had been purchased 
 at a second-hand shop last summer, and had been his 
 'best' for several months, but they were now much too 
 small for him. 
 
 Little Rosie, who was only just over three years old, was 
 better off than either of the other two, for she had a red cloth 
 dress that fitted her perfectly ; indeed, as the district visitor 
 who gave it to her mother had remarked, it looked as if it 
 had been made for her. 
 
 1 It's not much to look at,' observed Nellie, referring to her 
 big jacket, ' but all the same we was very glad of it when the 
 rain came on.' 
 
 The coat was so big that by withdrawing her arms from the 
 sleeves and using it as a cloak or shawl she had managed to 
 make it cover all three of them. 
 
 Tommy's boots were so broken that the wet had got in and 
 saturated his stockings, so Nora made him take them off and 
 wear some old ones of Frankie's whilst his own were drying 
 at the fire. 
 
 Philpot arrived with two large paper bags full of oranges 
 and nuts, and after tea he started a fine game, pretending to be 
 a dreadful wild animal which he called a ' Pandroculus.' He 
 wore a funny mask out of one of the crackers, and, crawling 
 about on all fours, rolled his goggle eyes and growled out that 
 he must have a little boy or girl for his supper. He looked so 
 terrible that although they knew it was only a joke they were 
 almost afraid of him and ran away laughing and screaming 
 to shelter themselves behind Nora or Owen. But all the same, 
 whenever Philpot left off playing, they entreated him to ' be 
 it again,' and so he had to keep on being a ' Pandroculus' 
 until exhaustion compelled him to return to his natural form. 
 
 After this they all sat round the table and had a game of 
 cards. ' Snap ' they called it, but nobody paid much attention 
 to the rules : the principal idea seemed to be to make as much 
 noise as possible. After a while Philpot suggested a change to 
 ' Beggar my neighbour,' and won quite a lot of cards before 
 they found out that he had hidden all the jacks in the pocket 
 of his coat, and mobbed him for a cheat. He might have been 
 seriously injured if it had not been for Bert, who created a 
 diversion by standing on a chair and announcing that he was 
 about to introduce to their notice 'Bert White's World 
 Famed Pandoramer as exhibited before all the nobility and 
 
 252
 
 The * Pandoramer ' 
 
 crowned heads of Europe, England, Ireland and Scotland, in- 
 cluding North America and Wales.' 
 
 Loud cheers greeted the conclusion of Bert's speech. The 
 box was placed on the table, which was then moved to the 
 end of the room, and the chairs were ranged in two rows in 
 front. 
 
 The ' Pandoramer ' consisted of a stage front made of painted 
 cardboard and fixed on the front of a wooden box about three 
 feet long by two feet six inches high, and about one foot deep. 
 The 'show' consisted of a lot of pictures cutout of illustrated 
 weekly papers and pasted together, end to end, so as to form 
 a long strip or ribbon. Bert had painted all the pictures with 
 water colours. 
 
 Just behind the wings of the stage front, at each end of the 
 box, was an upright roller, on which the long "strip of pictures 
 was rolled. The upper ends of the rollers came through the 
 top of the box and had handles attached to them. When these 
 handles were turned the pictures passed across the stage, un- 
 rolling from one roller and rolling on to the other, and were 
 illuminated by the light of three candles placed behind. 
 
 The idea of constructing this machine had been suggested 
 to Bert by a panorama entertainment he had been to see some 
 time before. 
 
 4 The style of the decorations,' he remarked, alluding to the 
 painted stage-front and inspired by memories of the drawing- 
 room of ' The Cave ', ' is Moorish.' 
 
 He lit the candles at the back and, having borrowed a tea- 
 tray from Nora, desired the audience to take their seats- When 
 they all had done so, he requested Owen to put out the lamp 
 and the candles on the Christmas tree, and then he made 
 another speech, imitating the manner of the lecturer at the 
 panorama entertainment before mentioned : 
 
 ' Ladies and Gentlemen : with your kind permission I am 
 about to hinterduce to your notice some pitchers of events in 
 different parts of the world. As each pitcher appears on the 
 stage I will give a short explanation of the subject ; and after- 
 wards the band will play a suitable collection of appropriated 
 music, consisting of hymns and all the latest and most popular 
 songs of the day, and the audience is kindly requested to join 
 in the chorus'. 
 
 'Our first scene,' continued Bert, as he turned the handles 
 and brought the picture into view, ' represents the docks at 
 
 253
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 Southampton. The magnificent steamer which you see lying 
 alongside the shore is the ship which is waiting to take us to 
 foreign parts. As we have already paid our fare, we will now 
 go on board and set sail.' 
 
 As an accompaniment to the picture Bert played the tune 
 of ' Good-bye, Dolly, I must leave you,' and by the time the 
 audience had finished singing the chorus he had rolled on 
 another scene, which depicted a dreadful storm at sea, with 
 a large ship evidently on the point of foundering. The waves 
 were running mountains high and the inky clouds were riven 
 by forked lightning. To increase the terrifying effect Bert 
 rattled the tea-tray and played ' The Bay of Biscay ', and the 
 children sung the chorus whilst he rolled the next picture into 
 view. This scene showed the streets of a large city ; mounted 
 police with drawn swords were dispersing a crowd ; several 
 men had been ridden down and were being trampled under 
 the hoofs of the horses, and a number of others were bleeding 
 profusely from wounds on the head and face. 
 
 'After a rather stormy passage we arrives safely at the 
 beautiful city of Berlin, in Germany, just in time to see a pro- 
 cession of unemployed workmen being charged by the military 
 police. This picture is hintitled " Tariff Reform means Work 
 for All." ' 
 
 As an appropriate musical selection Bert played the tune 
 of a well known song, and the children sang the words : 
 
 ' To be there ! to be there ! 
 Oh, I knew what it was to be there ! 
 And when they tore me clothes, 
 Blacked me eyes and broke me nose, 
 Then I knew what it was to be there ! ' 
 
 During the singing Bert turned the handles backwards and 
 again brought on the picture of the storm at sea. 
 
 1 As we don't want to get knocked on the 'ed, we clears out 
 of Berlin as soon as we can, whiles we're safe, and once 
 more embarks on our gallint ship, and after a few more turns 
 of the 'andle we finds ourselves back once more in Merry 
 Hingland, where we see the inside of a blacksmith's shop 
 with a lot of half-starved women making iron chains. They 
 work seventy hours a week for seven shillings. Our next scene 
 is hintitled "The Hook and Eye Carders." 'Ere we see the 
 inside of a room in Slumtown, with a mother and three chil- 
 
 254
 
 The " Pandoramer ' 
 
 drenand the old grandmother sewin' hooks and eyes on cards 
 to be sold in drapers' shops. It ses underneath the pitcher 
 that 384 hooks and 384 eyes has to be joined together and 
 sewed on cards for one penny.' 
 
 While this picture was being rolled away the band played 
 and the children sang with great enthusiasm : 
 
 ' Rule Britannia, Britannia rules the waves ! 
 Britons, never, never, never shall be slaves ! ' 
 
 'Our next picture is called "An Englishman's Home." 'Ere 
 we see the inside of another room in Slumtown, with the 
 father and mother and four children sitting down to dinner 
 bread and drippin' and tea. It ses underneath the pitcher that 
 there's thirteen millions of people in England always on the 
 verge of starvation. These people that you see in the pitcher 
 might be able to get a better dinner than this if it wasn't that 
 most of the money wot the bloke earns 'as to go to pay the 
 rent. Again we turns the 'andle and presently we comes to 
 another very beautiful scene, "Early Morning in Trafalgar 
 Square." 'Ere we see a lot of Englishmen who have been 
 sleepin' out all night because they ain't got no 'omes to 
 go to.' 
 
 As a suitable selection for this picture Bert played the tune 
 of a Music Hall song, the words of which were familiar to all 
 the youngsters, who sang at the top of their voices : 
 
 * I live in Trafalgar Square, 
 
 With four lions to guard me, 
 Pictures and statues all over the place, 
 
 Lord Nelson staring me straight in the face. 
 Of course it's rather draughty, 
 
 But still I'm sure you'll agree, 
 If it's good enough for Lord Nelson, 
 
 It's quite good enough for me.' 
 
 1 Next we 'ave a view of the dining hall at the Topside 
 Hotel in London, where we see the tables set for a million- 
 aire's banquet. The forks and spoons is made of solid gold and 
 the plates is made of silver. The flowers that you see on the 
 tables and 'angin' down from the ceilin' and on the walls is 
 worth ^2000, and it cost the bloke wot give the supper over 
 ,30,000 for this one beano. A few more turns of the 'andle 
 
 255
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 shows us another glorious banquet the King of Rhineland 
 being entertained by the people of England. Next we finds 
 ourselves looking on at the Lord Mayor's supper at the Man- 
 sion House. All the fat men that you see sittin' at the tables 
 is Liberal and Tory members of Parlimint. After this we 'ave 
 a very beautiful pitcher hintitled " Four-footed Haristocrats." 
 'Ere you see Lady Slumrent's pet dogs sittin' up on chairs at 
 their dinner table with white linen napkins tied round their 
 necks, eatin'orf silver plates like human people and bein' waited 
 on by real live waiters in hevening dress. Lady Slumrent is 
 very fond of her pretty pets and she does not allow them to be 
 fed on anything but the very best food; they gets chicken, rump 
 steak, mutton chops, rice pudding, jelly and custard.' 
 
 4 1 wished / was a pet dog, don't you ? ' remarked Tommy 
 Newman to Charlie Linden. 
 
 4 Not arf ! ' replied Charley. 
 
 4 Here we see another unemployed procession,' continued 
 Bert as he rolled another picture into sight ; 4 two thousand 
 able-bodied men who are not allowed to work. Next we see the 
 hinterior of a Hindustrial 'Ome blind children and cripples 
 working for their living. Our next scene is called 44 Cheap 
 Labour." 'Ere we see a lot of small boys about twelve and 
 thirteen years old bein' served out with their Labour Stifficats, 
 which gives 'em the right to go to work and earn money to 
 help their unemployed fathers to pay the Slumrent. 
 
 4 Once more we turns the 'andle and brings on one of our 
 finest scenes. This lovely pitcher is hintitled 44 The Hangel of 
 Charity," and shows us the beautiful Lady Slumrent seated 
 at the table in a cosy corner of 'er charmin' boodore, writin' 
 out a little cheque for the relief of the poor of Slumtown. 
 
 4 Our next scene is called 44 The Rival Candidates ; or, A 
 Scene during the General Election." On the left you will 
 observe, standin' up in a motor car, a swell bloke with a eye- 
 glass stuck in one eye, and a overcoat with a big fur collar 
 and cuffs, addressing the crowd : this is the Honourable 
 Augustus Slumrent, the Conservative candidate. On the other 
 side of the road we see another motor car and another swell 
 bloke with a round pane of glass in one eye and a overcoat 
 with a big fur collar and cuffs, standin' up in the car and 
 addressin* the crowd: this is Mr Mandriver, the Liberal 
 candidate. The crowds of shabby lookin' chaps standin' round 
 the motor cars wavin' their 'ats and cheerin' is workin' men. 
 
 256
 
 The 'Pandoramer* 
 
 Both the candidates is tellin' 'em the same old story, and each 
 of 'em is askin' the workin' men to elect 'im to Parlimint, and 
 promisin' to do something or hother to make things better for 
 the lower herders.' 
 
 As an appropriate selection to go with this picture Bert 
 played the tune of a popular song, the words being well known 
 to the children, who sang enthusiastically, clapping their 
 hands and stamping their feet on the floor in time with the 
 music : 
 
 ' We've both been there before, 
 Many a time, many a time ! 
 We've both been there before 
 
 Many a time ! 
 Where many a gallon of beer has gone, 
 
 To colour his nose and mine, 
 We've both been there before, 
 Many a time, many a time ! ' 
 
 At the conclusion of the singing Bert turned another picture 
 into view. 
 
 ' 'Ere we 'ave another election scene. At each side we see 
 the two candidates the same as in the last pitcher. In the 
 middle of the road we see a man lying on the ground, covered 
 with blood, with a lot of Liberal and Tory working men kickin' 
 'im, jumpin' on 'im, and stampin'on 'is face with their 'obnailed 
 boots. The bloke on the ground is a Socialist, and the reason 
 why they're kickin' 'is face in is because 'e said that the only 
 difference between Slumrent and Mandriver was that they 
 was both alike.' 
 
 Whilst the audience were admiring this picture Bert played 
 another well known tune, and the children sang the words : 
 
 ' Two lovely black eyes, 
 Oh what a surprise ! 
 Only for telling a man he was wrong, 
 Two lovely black eyes ! ' 
 
 Bert continued to turn the handles of the rollers and a long 
 succession of pictures passed across the stage to the delight 
 of the children, who cheered and sang as occasion demanded. 
 But the most enthusiastic outburst of all greeted the appear- 
 ance of the final picture, which was a portrait of the King 
 R 257
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 Directly the children saw it, without waiting for the band, 
 they gave three cheers and began to sing the chorus of the 
 National Anthem. 
 
 A round of applause for Bert concluded the Pandoramer 
 performance. The lamp and the candles of the Christmas tree 
 were re-lit, for although all the toys had been taken off the 
 tree still made a fine show with the shining glass ornaments, 
 and then they had some more games, including blind man's 
 buff and a tug of war in which Philpot was defeated with great 
 slaughter. When they were tired of these, each child ' said a 
 piece ' or sang a song, learnt specially for the occasion. The 
 only one who had not come prepared in this respect was little 
 Rosie, and even she so as to be the same as the others 
 insisted on reciting the only piece she knew. Kneeling on the 
 hearthrug, she put her hands together, palm to palm, and 
 shutting her eyes very tightly she repeated the verse she al- 
 ways said every night before going to bed : 
 
 ' Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, 
 Look on me, a little child, 
 Pity my simplicity, 
 Suffer me to come to Thee.' 
 
 Then she stood up and kissed everyone in turn, and Philpot 
 crossed over and began looking out of the window, and cough- 
 ed and blew his nose, because a nut that he had been eating 
 had gone down the wrong way. 
 
 Most of them were by this time quite tired out, so after some 
 supper the party broke up. Although they were nearly all very 
 sleepy none of them were very willing to go ; but they were 
 consoled by the thought of another entertainment to which 
 they were going later on in the week the Band of Hope Tea 
 and Prize Distribution of the Shining Light Chapel. 
 
 Bert undertook to see Elsie and Charley safely home, and 
 Philpot volunteered to accompany Nellie and Tommy New- 
 man, and to carry Rosie, who was so tired that she fell asleep 
 on his shoulder before they left the house. 
 
 As they were going down the stairs Frankie held a hurried 
 consultation with his mother, with the result that he was 
 able to shout after them an invitation to come again next 
 Christmas. 
 
 358
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 THE BRIGANDS 
 
 THE town 01 Mugsborough was governed by a set of 
 individuals called the Municipal Council. Most of these 
 4 representatives of the people' were well-to-do or retired 
 tradesmen, for in the opinion of the inhabitants of 
 Mugsborough the fact that a man had succeeded in accumu- 
 lating money in business was a clear demonstration of his 
 fitness to be intrusted with the business of the town. 
 
 The Municipal Council did just what they pleased. No 
 one ever interfered with them. They never consulted the 
 ratepayers in any way. Even at election times they did not 
 trouble to hold meetings : each one of them issued a kind of 
 manifesto setting forth his many noble qualities and calling 
 for votes from the people, who never failed to respond, and 
 who elected the . c ame old crew of highly respectable brigands 
 time after time. 
 
 The chief of the band was Mr Adam Sweater, managing 
 director and principal shareholder of the large drapery 
 business from which he had amassed a considerable fortune. 
 Then there was Mr Rushton, ' the working man's Candidate ' ; 
 Mr Amos Grinder, who had practically monopolised the 
 greengrocery trade of the town ; Mr Jeremiah Didlum, house- 
 furnisher and ' Hire System ' trader, who also did a big 
 business in second hand stuffs ; and various other prosperous 
 tradesmen chosen by the inhabitants of Mugsborough to 
 watch over their interests. There was only one member of 
 the Council who did not belong to the band of brigands. 
 This was Councillor Weakling, a retired physician, whose 
 feeble protests against measures he disapproved of always 
 ended in collapse. 
 
 For many years the brigands had looked with envious 
 eyes on the huge profits of the Gas Company, and, bent on 
 capturing the spoils, they formed themselves into an associa- 
 
 259
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 tion called 'The Mugsborough Electric Light Supply and 
 Installation Co., Ltd.,' and vowed a solemn vow to drive the 
 Gas ' Bandits ' out of the town. With this end in view they 
 bought a piece of town land from the municipality, that is 
 to say, themselves, for half its value, and built the Electric 
 Light Company works thereon. The Municipal Council then 
 passed a measure that the duty on all coal brought into the 
 borough should be raised from two to three shillings a ton, 
 by which manoeuvre they piously hoped to drive a final nail 
 in the Gas Company Bandits' coffin. 
 
 That was two years ago, and since that time the Electric 
 Light Works had been built and the war against the gas- 
 works carried on vigorously. After several encounters in which 
 they lost a few customers and a portion of the public lighting, 
 the Gasworks Bandits retreated out of the town and en- 
 trenched themselves in a strong position beyond the borough 
 boundary, where they erected a number of gasometers from 
 which they were enabled to pour gas into the town at long 
 range without having to pay the coal dues. 
 
 This masterly stratagem created something like a panic in 
 the ranks of The Mugsborough Electric Light Supply, Ltd. 
 At the end of two years they found themselves exhausted 
 with the protracted campaign, their movements hampered by 
 a lot of worn out plant and antiquated machinery, and 
 harassed on every side by the lower charges of the Gas 
 Company. They were reluctantly constrained to admit that 
 the attempt to undermine the Gasworks was a melancholy 
 failure, and that the Mugsborough Electric Light and 
 Installation Company was a veritable white elephant. They 
 began to ask themselves what they should do with it ; and 
 some of them even urged unconditional surrender, or an 
 appeal to the arbitration of the bankruptcy court. 
 
 In the midst of all the confusion and demoralisation, 
 however, there was one man who did not lose his presence 
 of mind, who in this dark hour of disaster remained calm 
 and immovable, and, like a vast mountain of flesh, reared his 
 head above the storm, and perceived a way to turn this ap- 
 parently hopeless defeat into a glorious victory. 
 
 That man was Adam Sweater, the Chief of the Band, and 
 it was to Sweater's office that three harassed directors of 
 the Mugsborough Electric Light Supply and Installation 
 Company Ltd., Messrs Rushton, Didlum and Grinder, met 
 
 260
 
 The Brigands 
 
 their chief in order to discuss their unfortunate commercial 
 venture. 
 
 ' For my part," Grinder was saying, ' I think the best thing 
 as we can do is to chuck up the sponge at once. The 
 Company is practically bankrupt now, and the longer we 
 waits the worser it'll be.' 
 
 'That's my opinion,' said Didlum dejectedly. 'If we could 
 supply the electric light at the same price as gas, or a little 
 cheaper, we might have some chance ; but we can't do it. 
 The fact is that the machinery we've got is no dam good ; it's 
 too small and it's wore out, consequently the light we supply 
 is inferior to gas and costs more.' 
 
 ' Yes, I think we're fairly beaten this time,' said Rushton. 
 ' Why, even if the Gas Company hadn't moved their works 
 beyond the borough boundary still we shouldn't 'ave been 
 hable to compete with 'em.' 
 
 'Of course not,' said Grinder. 'The truth of the matter is just 
 wot Didlum says. Our machinery is too small, it's worn hout, 
 and good for nothing but to be throwed on the scrap-heap, so 
 there's only one thing left to do and that is, go into liquidation.' 
 
 ' I don't see it,' remarked Sweater. 
 
 ' Well, what do you propose, then ? ' demanded Grinder. 
 ' Reconstruct the company ? Ask the shareholders for more 
 money ? Pull down the works and build fresh and buy some 
 new machinery and then most likely not make a do of it 
 after all ? Not for me, old chap ! I've 'ad enough. You won't 
 catch me chuckin' good money after bad like that.' 
 
 4 Nor me neither,' said Rushton. 
 
 'Dead orf!' remarked Didlum, very decidedly. 
 
 Sweater laughed. ' I'm not such a fool as to suggest any- 
 thing of that sort,' he said. 'You seem to forget that I am 
 one of the largest shareholders myself. No. What I propose 
 is that we sell out.' 
 
 ' Sell out ! ' replied Grinder, with a contemptuous laugh in 
 which the others joined. ' Who's going to buy the shares of 
 a concern that's practically bankrupt and never paid a 
 dividend ? ' 
 
 'I've tried to sell my little lot several times already,' said 
 Didlum, with a sickly smile, ' but nobody won't buy 'em.' 
 
 ' Who's to buy ? ' repeated Sweater, replying to Grinder, 
 ' The Municipality of course ! The ratepayers ! Why shouldn't 
 Mugsborough go in for Socialism as well as other towns ? ' 
 
 261
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 Rushton, Didlum and Grinder fairly^'gasped for breath : 
 the audacity of the chiefs proposal nearly paralyzed them. 
 
 1 I'm afraid we should never git away with it,' ejaculated 
 Didlum, as soon as he could speak ; ' when the people tumbled 
 to it, there'd be no hend of a row.' 
 
 1 People ! Row ! ' replied Sweater, scornfully. ' The majority 
 of the people will never know anything about it ! Listen to 
 me ' 
 
 ' Are you quite sure as we can't be over-'eard ? ' inter- 
 rupted Rushton, glancing nervously at the door and round 
 the office. 
 
 ' It's all right,' answered Sweater, who nevertheless lowered 
 his voice almost to a whisper ; and the others drew their chairs 
 closer and bent forward to listen. 
 
 4 You know we still have a little money in hand. Well, what 
 I propose is this. At the Annual Meeting, which, as you 
 know, comes off next week, we'll arrange for the secretary 
 to read a highly satisfactory report, and we'll declare a 
 dividend of 1 5 per cent we can arrange it somehow between 
 us. Of course we'll have to cook the accounts a little, but I'll 
 see that it's done properly. The other shareholders are not 
 going to ask any awkward questions, and we all understand 
 each other.' 
 
 Sweater paused, and regarded the other three brigands 
 intently. 4 Do you follow me ? ' he asked. 
 
 'Yes, yes,' said Didlum eagerly; 'go on with it.' And 
 Rushton and Grinder nodded assent. 
 
 'Afterwards,' resumed Sweater, 'I'll arrange for a good 
 report of the meeting to appear in the " Weekly Ananias." 
 I'll instruct the Editor to write it himself, and tell him just 
 what to say. I'll also get him to write a leader saying that 
 electricity is sure to supersede gas for lighting purposes in 
 the very near future, referring to the huge profits made by the 
 Gas Company, and remarking how much better it would have 
 been if the town had bought the gasworks years ago so that 
 those profits might have been used to reduce the rates 
 the same as has been done in other towns. Finally the article 
 will declare that it's a great pity that the Electric Light 
 Supply should be in the hands of a private company, and 
 suggest that an effort be made to acquire it for the town. In 
 the meantime we can all go about in a very quiet and judici- 
 ous way, of course bragging of what a good thing we've got, 
 
 262
 
 The Brigands 
 
 and saying we don't mean to sell. We shall say that we've 
 overcome all the initial expenses and difficulties connected 
 with the installation of the works, that we are only just be- 
 ginning to reap our reward, and so on.' 
 
 'Then,' continued the Chief, 'we can arrange for it to be 
 proposed in the Council that the Town should purchase the 
 Electric Light Works.' 
 
 ' But not by one of us four, you know,' said Grinder, with 
 a cunning leer. 
 
 ' Certainly not. Several members who are not shareholders 
 can do most of the talking. As directors of the company we 
 must pretend to be against selling, and stick out for our own 
 price ; and when we do finally consent we must make out 
 that we are sacrificing our private interests for the good of 
 the town. We'll get a committee appointed, we'll have an expert 
 engineer down from London I know a man that will suit 
 our purpose admirably we'll pay him a trifle and he'll say 
 whatever we tell him to, and we'll rush the whole business 
 through before you can say "Jack Robinson " and before the 
 ratepayers have time to realise what's being done. Not that 
 we need worry ourselves much about them ; most of them take 
 no interest in public affairs. But even if there is something 
 said it won't matter much to us once we've got the money. 
 It'll be a nine days' wonder and then we'll hear no more of it.' 
 
 As the Chief ceased speaking the other brigands also 
 remained silent, speechless with admiration of his cleverness. 
 
 ' Well, what do you think of it? ' he asked. 
 
 'Think of it ! ' cried Grinder, enthusiastically, ' I reckon it'll 
 be one of the smartest things we've ever done.' 
 
 ' Smart ain't the word ! ' exclaimed Rushton. 
 
 ' The great thing is," continued Sweater, ' to get the business 
 properly worked up in the newspapers. I'll see that "The 
 Ananias " and "The Chloroform " are all right, and you must 
 take care that "The Obscurer" backs me up, Grinder.' 
 
 'Trust me for that,' said Grinder grimly. The three local 
 papers were run by limited companies, Sweater holding 
 nearly all the shares of ' The Ananias ' and ' The Weekly 
 Chloroform,' while Grinder held the same position with regard 
 to 'The Obscurer.' 
 
 ' I wonder 'ow Dr Weakling will take it,' said Rushton. 
 
 'That's what I was thinkin' about,' remarked Didlum. 
 ' Couldn't we arrange to 'ave somebody took bad, in a fit or 
 
 263
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 something, just outside the Town 'All, and call 'im out to 
 attend to the party and keep 'im busy till our business is 
 done?' 
 
 1 Who could we get to 'ave a fit ? ' said Grinder thought- 
 fully. ' It would 'ave to be someone as we could trust.' 
 
 ' 'Ow about Rushton ? You wouldn't mind, would yer ? ' 
 suggested Didlum. 
 
 'I should strongly object!' returned Rushton haughtily, 
 apparently regarding the suggestion as an insult. 
 
 'Well, well,' said Sweater, 'we needn't worry about 
 Weakling ; we can soon put a stopper on him. But now, as 
 we're all agreed, I want to tell you a bit of good news. The 
 Gas Company may have beaten us, but it hasn't been much 
 of a picnic for them. We hit them pretty hard over the coal 
 dues. I happen to know they are getting a bit sick of the fight 
 because they don't know exactly how hard we're hit. Anyhow, 
 to make a long story short : I've had a talk with the managing 
 director and one or two others and they are willing for us to 
 go in with them. So we can put the money for the Electric 
 Light Works into the gas shares.' 
 
 This was indeed glad tidings, and after deciding the coal 
 dues must now be abolished in order to relieve the poor, 
 they concluded the proceedings with a whisky and soda all 
 round, in spite of the fact that Didlum was a teetotaller. 
 
 264
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 THE VETERAN 
 
 OLD Jack Linden had tried hard to get work work of any 
 kind but nobody wanted him ; and to make things worse his 
 eyesight, which had been failing for a long time, became very 
 bad. Once he was given a job by a big provision firm to carry 
 an advertisement board about the streets, its previous bearer, 
 an old soldier, having been sacked the day before for 
 getting drunk on duty. The advertisement was not an ordinary 
 pair of sandwich boards, but a sort of box without any bottom 
 or lid : a wooden frame, four sides covered with canvas, on 
 which were pasted printed bills advertising margarine. 
 
 Old Linden had to get inside this thing and carry it about 
 the streets. It swayed about a good deal as he walked along, 
 especially when the wind caught it, but there were two 
 handles inside to steady it by. The pay was eighteen pence 
 a day, and he was obliged to travel a certain route, up and 
 down the busiest streets. 
 
 At first the frame did not feel very heavy, but the weight 
 seemed to increase as the time went on, and the straps hurt 
 his shoulders. He felt very much ashamed, also, whenever he 
 encountered any of his old mates, some of whom laughed 
 at him. 
 
 What with the frame requiring so much attention to keep 
 it steady, and his sight being so bad, the old man several 
 times narrowly escaped being run over. Another thing that 
 added to his embarrassment was the jeering of the other 
 sandwich men, the loafers outside the public houses, and the 
 boys, who shouted ' old Jack-in-the-box ! ' after him. Some- 
 times the boys threw refuse at the frame, and once a decayed 
 orange thrown by one of them knocked his hat off. 
 
 By the time evening fell he was scarcely able to stand for 
 weariness. His shoulders, legs and feet ached terribly, and as 
 he was taking the thing back to the shop he was accosted by 
 
 265
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 a ragged, dirty-looking, beer-sodden old man whose face was 
 inflamed with drink and fury. This was the old soldier who 
 had been discharged the previous day. He cursed and swore, 
 and accused Linden of 4 taking the bread out of his mouth ' ; 
 and, shaking his fist fiercely at him, shouted that he had a good 
 mind to knock his face through his head and out at the back 
 of his neck. He might possibly have tried to put this threat 
 into practice but for the timely appearance of a policeman, 
 when he calmed down at once and took himself off. 
 
 Jack did not go back the next day ; he felt that he would 
 rather starve than have any more of the advertisement frame, 
 and from this time forth he seemed to abandon all hope of 
 earning money : wherever he went it was the same, no one 
 wanted him. So he just wandered about the streets aimlessly, 
 now and then meeting an old workmate who asked him to 
 have a drink ; but this was not often, for nearly all of them 
 were out of work and penniless. 
 
 During'most of this time Mary Linden, his daughter-in-law, 
 however, had ' plenty of work," making blouses and pinafores 
 for Sweater and Company. At first they had employed her 
 exclusively on the cheapest kind of blouses, those paid for at 
 the rate of two shillings a dozen, but latterly, as she did the 
 work very neatly, they kept her busy on the better qualities, 
 which did not pay her so well, because, although she was 
 paid more per dozen, there was a great deal more work in 
 them than in the cheaper kinds. Once she had a very special 
 one to make, for which she was paid six shillings ; but it took 
 her four and a half days, working early and late, to do it. 
 The lady who bought this blouse was told that it came from 
 Paris and paid three guineas for it. But of course young 
 Mrs Linden knew nothing of that, and even if she had known, 
 it would have made no difference. 
 
 Most of the money she earned went to pay the rent, and 
 sometimes there were only two or three shillings left to buy 
 food for all of them, sometimes not even so much, because 
 although she had Plenty of Work she was not always able 
 to do it. There were times when the strain of working the 
 machine was unendurable; her shoulders ached, her arms 
 became cramped, and her eyes became so painful it was 
 impossible to go on. 
 
 When they owed four weeks' rent and the threats of the 
 agent, who acted for Mr Sweater, their landlord, terrified 
 
 266
 
 The Veteran 
 
 them with the thought of being sold up and turned out of 
 the house, she decided to sell the round mahogany table and 
 other things out of the sitting-room. Nearly all the furniture 
 that was left in the house now belonged to her, and had 
 formed her home before her husband died at the war. 
 
 Mr Didlum, the furniture dealer, called to see the various 
 articles, and looked at them with open contempt. Five 
 shillings was the very most he could think of giving for the 
 table, and even then he doubted whether he would ever get 
 his money back. Eventually he gave her thirty shillings for 
 the table, the overmantel, the easy-chair, three other chairs 
 and the two best pictures, one a large steel engraving of ' The 
 Good Samaritan,' and the other 'Christ Blessing Little 
 Children.' 
 
 He paid the money at once. Half-an-hour afterwards the 
 van came to take the things away, and when they were gone 
 Mary Linden sank down on the hearthrug in the wrecked 
 room and sobbed as if her heart would break. 
 
 This was the first of several similar transactions. Slowly, 
 piece by piece, in order to buy food and to pay the rent, the 
 furniture was sold. Every time Didlum came he affected to 
 be doing them a very great favour by buying the things at 
 all. He did not want them ; business was so bad it might be 
 years before he could sell them again ; and so on. Once or 
 twice he asked Mary if she did not want to sell the clock 
 the one that her late husband had made for his mother ; but 
 Mary shrank from the thought of selling this, until at last 
 there was nothing else left that Didlum would buy, and one 
 week, when she was too ill to do her needlework, it had to 
 go. Didlum gave them ten shillings for it. 
 
 Mary had expected the old woman to be heartbroken at 
 parting with this clock, but she was surprisod to see her 
 almost indifferent. The truth was that lately both the old 
 people seemed stunned and incapable of taking an intelligent 
 interest in what was happening around them. 
 
 From time to time nearly all their other possessions, things 
 of inferior value that Didlum would not look at, were sold at 
 small second-hand shops in back streets or pledged at the 
 pawnbroker's. The feather pillows, sheets and blankets, bits 
 of carpet or oilcloth, and as much of their clothing as was 
 saleable or pawnable. 
 
 They felt the loss of the bedclothes more than anything 
 
 267
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 else, for although all the clothes they wore during the day 
 and all the old clothes and dresses in the house and even an 
 old coloured table-cloth were put on the beds at night, they 
 did not compensate for the blankets, and they were often 
 unable to sleep on account of the intense cold. 
 
 A lady district visitor who called occasionally sometimes 
 gave an order for a hundredweight of coal or a shilling's 
 worth of groceries, or a ticket for a quart of soup which 
 Elsie fetched in the evening from the Soup Kitchen. But this 
 was not very often, because, as the lady said, there were so 
 many cases similar to theirs that it was impossible to do 
 more than a very little for any one of them. 
 
 Sometimes Mary became so weak and exhausted through 
 overwork, worry and lack of proper food that she broke 
 down altogether for the time being. Then she used to lie 
 down on the bed in her room and cry. 
 
 On these occasions Elsie and Charley did the housework 
 when they came home from school, made tea and toast for 
 her, and brought it to her bedside. 
 
 The children rather enjoyed these times ; the quiet and 
 leisure were so different from other days when their mother 
 was so busy she had no time to speak to them. They would 
 sit on the side of the bed, the old grandmother in her chair 
 opposite, and talk together about the future. Elsie said she 
 was going to be a teacher and earn a lot of money to bring 
 home to her mother to buy things with. Charley was thinking 
 of opening a grocer's shop and having a horse and cart. 
 When you have a grocer's shop, he said, there is always 
 plenty to eat, for even if you have no money, you can take 
 as much as you like out of your shop, good stuff too, tins of 
 salmon, jam, sardines, eggs, cakes, biscuits and all those sorts 
 of things. When delivering the groceries with the horse and 
 cart, he went on, he would give rides to all the boys he knew ; 
 and in the summer-time, after the work was done and the 
 shop shut up, Mother and Elsie and Granny could also come 
 for long rides into the country. 
 
 The old grandmother, who had latterly become quite 
 childish, would sit and listen to all this talk with a superior 
 air. Sometimes she argued with the children about their 
 plans, and ridiculed them. She used to say with a chuckle 
 that she had heard people talk like that before, lots of times, 
 but it never came to nothing in the end. 
 
 268
 
 The Veteran 
 
 One week about the middle of February, when they were 
 in very sore straits indeed, old Jack applied to the secretary 
 of the Organised Benevolence Society for assistance. It was 
 about eleven o'clock in the morning when he turned the 
 corner of the street where the office was situated and he saw 
 a crowd of about thirty men waiting for the doors to be 
 opened in order to apply for soup tickets. Some of them were 
 of the tramp or the drunken loafer class ; some were old 
 broken down workmen like himself; and others were labourers 
 wearing corduroy or moleskin trousers with straps round 
 their legs under their knees. 
 
 Linden waited at a distance until all these were gone 
 before he went in. The secretary received him sympathetic- 
 ally and gave him a big form to fill up, but as Linden's eyes 
 were so bad and his hand so unsteady the secretary very 
 obligingly wrote in the answers himself, and informed him 
 that he would enquire into the case and lay the application 
 before the committee at the next meeting, which was to be 
 held on the following Thursday. 
 
 Linden explained to him that they were actually starving. 
 He had been out of work for sixteen weeks, and during all 
 that time they had lived for the most part on the earnings of 
 his daughter-in-law. There was no food in the house and the 
 children were crying for something to eat. All last week they 
 had been going to school hungry, for they had had nothing 
 but dry bread and tea every day ; but this week, as far as he 
 could see, they would not get even that. After some further 
 talk the secretary gave him two soup tickets and an order for 
 a loaf of bread, and repeated his promise to enquire into the 
 case and bring it before the committee. 
 
 As Jack was returning home he passed by the Soup Kitchen, 
 where he saw the same lot of men who had been to the office 
 of the Organised Benevolence Society for the soup tickets. 
 They were waiting in a long line to be admitted ; the premises 
 being so small, the proprietor served them in batches of ten at 
 a time. 
 
 On Wednesday the secretary called at the house, and on 
 Friday Jack received a letter from him to the effect that the 
 case had been duly considered by the committee who had come 
 to the conclusion that as it was a ' chronic ' case they were 
 unable to deal with it, and advised him to apply to the Board 
 of Guardians. This was what Linden had hitherto shrunk from 
 
 269
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 doing, but the situation was desperate, and feeling utterly 
 crushed and degraded, he swallowed all that remained of his 
 pride and went like a beaten dog to see the relieving officer. 
 He was taken before the Board, with the result that his case 
 was not considered suitable for out-relief ; and after some pre- 
 liminaries it was finally arranged that Linden and his wife 
 were to go into the workhouse, and Mary was to be allowed 
 three shillings a week to help her to support herself and the 
 two children. 
 
 Mary accompanied the old people to the gates of their future 
 dwelling place, and on her return home found a letter ad- 
 dressed to J. Linden. It was from the house agent, and con- 
 tained a notice to leave the house before the end of the ensuing 
 week. Nothing was said about the five weeks' rent that was due. 
 Perhaps Mr Sweater thought that as he had already received 
 nearly six hundred pounds in rent from Linden he could afford 
 to be generous about the amount that was still owing, or he 
 thought there was no possibility of getting the money. How- 
 ever that may have been, there was no reference to it in the 
 letter ; it was simply a notice to clear out, addressed to Linden, 
 but meant for Mary. 
 
 She was faint with fatigue and hunger, for she had had 
 nothing but a cup of tea and a slice of bread that day, her 
 usual fare for many weeks past. The children were at school, 
 and the house, now almost destitute of furniture and without 
 carpets or oilcloth on the floors, was deserted and cold and silent 
 as a tomb. On the kitchen table were a few cracked cups and 
 saucers, a broken knife, some lead tea spoons, a part of a loaf, 
 a small basin containing some dripping, and a brown earthen- 
 ware teapot with a broken spout. Near the table were two 
 broken kitchen chairs. The bareness of the walls was relieved 
 only by a coloured almanac and some paper pictures which 
 the children had tacked upon them, and there by the side of 
 the fire-place was the empty wicker chair where the old woman 
 used to sit. There was no fire in the grate, and the cold hearth 
 was untidy with an accumulation of ashes, for during the 
 trouble of these last few days Mary had not had time or heart 
 to do any housework. The floor was unswept and littered with 
 scraps of paper and dust. In one corner was a heap of twigs 
 and small branches of trees that Charley had found some- 
 where and brought home for the fire. 
 
 The same disorder prevailed all through the house. All the 
 
 270
 
 The Veteran 
 
 doors were open, and from where she stood in the kitchen she 
 could see the bed she shared with Elsie, with its wretched heap 
 of coverings. The sitting room contained nothing but a collec- 
 tion of odds and ends of rubbish which belonged to Charley, 
 his ' things ' as he called them : bits of wood, string and rope ; 
 one wheel of a perambulator, a top, an iron hoop, and other 
 treasures. Through the other door she could see the dilapidated 
 bedstead that had been used by the old people, the flock pro- 
 truding through the ragged covering of the mattress. 
 
 As she stood there with the letter in her hand, faint and 
 weary in the midst of all this desolation, it seemed to her as 
 if the whole world were falling to pieces and crumbling away 
 all around her. She sank down on a chair by the table and 
 her head fell limply forward on her arms. 
 
 271
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 THE NEW TENANTS 
 
 THE week before old Linden went into the workhouse Owen 
 earned nothing, and to make matters worse the grocer sud- 
 denly refused to let them have any more credit. Owen went 
 to see him, and the man said he was very sorry but he could not 
 let them have anything more without the money ; he did not 
 mind waiting a few weeks for what was already owing, but he 
 could not let the amount get any higher ; his books were full of 
 bad debts already. In conclusion he said that he hoped Owen 
 would not follow the example of many others and take his 
 ready money elsewhere. People came and got credit from him 
 when they were hard up, and afterwards spent their ready 
 money at the Monopole Company's Stores on the other side 
 of the street because their goods were a trifle cheaper, and 
 it was not fair. Owen admitted that it was not fair, but re- 
 minded him that they always bought their things at his shop. 
 The grocer, however, was inexorable ; he repeated several times 
 that his books were full of bad debts and his own creditors 
 were pressing him. During their conversation the shopkeeper's 
 eyes wandered continually to the big store on the other side 
 of the street ; the huge gilded letters of the name ' Monopole 
 Stores' seemed to have an irresistible attraction for him. 
 Once he interrupted himself in the middle of a sentence to 
 point out to Owen a little girl who was just coming out of 
 the stores with a small parcel in her hand. 
 
 ' Her father owes me nearly thirty shillings,' he said, 'but 
 they spend their ready money there.' 
 
 The front of the grocer's shop badly needed repainting, and 
 the name on the fascia,' A. Smallman,' was so faded as to be 
 almost undecipherable. It had been Owen's intention to offer 
 to do this work, the cost to go against his account, but the 
 man appeared to be so harassed that he refrained from 
 making the suggestion. 
 
 272
 
 The New Tenants 
 
 They still had credit at the baker's, but they did not take 
 much bread : when one has had scarcely anything else but 
 bread to eat for nearly a month it is difficult to eat at all. That 
 same day, when he returned home after his interview with 
 the grocer, they had a loaf of beautiful fresh bread, but none 
 of them could eat it, although they were hungry : it seemed 
 to stick in their throats, and they could not swallow it even 
 with the help of a drink of tea. But they drank the tea, which 
 was the one thing that enabled them to go on living. 
 
 The next week Owen earned eight shillings altogether ; a 
 few hours he put in assisting Crass to wash off and whiten a 
 ceiling and paint a room, and there was one coffin plate. He 
 wrote the latter at home, and while he was doing it he heard 
 Frankie, who was out in the scullery with Nora, say to 
 her: 
 
 ' Mother, how many more days do you think we'll have to 
 have only dry bread and tea ? ' 
 
 Owen's heart seemed to stop as he heard the child's question 
 and listened for Nora's answer ; but the question was not to 
 be answered at all just then, for at that moment they heard 
 someone running up the stairs, and presently the door was 
 unceremoniously thrown open and Charley Linden rushed in- 
 to the house, out of breath, hatless, and crying piteously. His 
 clothes were old and ragged ; they had been patched at the 
 knees and elbows, but the patches were tearing away from 
 the rotting fabric underneath. He had on a pair of black 
 stockings full of holes through which the skin was showing. 
 The soles of his boots were worn through at one side right 
 to the uppers, and as he walked the sides of his bare heels 
 came into contact with the floor. The front part of the sole of 
 one boot was separated from the upper, and his bare toes, 
 red with cold and covered with mud, protruded through 
 the gap. 
 
 All that they could make out between his heartrending 
 sobs was that his grandfather and grandmother had gone to 
 the workhouse that afternoon, and he thought his mother was 
 dead or dying ; he could not make her open her eyes or speak 
 to him. 
 
 When Nora hurried back with him to the house she found 
 
 that Mary had recovered from her faint and was lying down 
 
 on the bed. Nora lit the fire and gave the children their tea. 
 
 There was still some coal and food left of what had been bought 
 
 s 273
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 with the three shillings obtained from the Board of Guardians. 
 Afterwards she tidied the house, and talked things over. 
 
 Mary said that she did not know exactly what she would 
 have to do in the future. If she could get a room somewhere 
 for two or three shillings a week her allowance from the 
 Guardians would pay the rent, and she would be able to earn 
 enough for herself and the children to live on. 
 
 This was the substance of the story that Nora told Owen 
 when she returned home. He had finished writing the coffin- 
 plate and as it was now nearly dry he put on his coat and 
 took it down to the carpenter's shop at the yard. 
 
 On his way back he met Easton, who had been hanging 
 about in the vain hope of seeing Hunter and rinding out if 
 there was any chance of a job. As they walked along together 
 Easton confided to Owen that he had earned scarcely anything 
 since he had been stood off at Rushton's, and what he had 
 earned had gone, as usual, to pay the rent. Slyme had left 
 them some time ago. Ruth did not seem able to get on with 
 him ; she had been in a funny sort of temper altogether ; but 
 since he had gone she had had a little work at a boarding 
 house on The Grand Parade. But things had been going from 
 bad to worse. They had not been able to keep up the pay- 
 ments for the furniture they had hired so the things had been 
 seized and carted off. They had even stripped the oilcloth from 
 the floor. Easton remarked he was sorry he had not tacked 
 the bloody stuff down in such a manner that they would not 
 have been able to lift it up without destroying it. He had been 
 to see Didlum, who said he didn't want to be hard on them, 
 that he would keep the things together for three months and 
 if Easton had paid up arrears by that time he could have them 
 back again; but there was in Easton's opinion very little 
 chance of that. 
 
 Owen listened with contempt and anger. Here was a man 
 who grumbled at the present state of things ; yet took no 
 trouble to think for himself and try to alter them, and who, 
 at the first chance, would vote for the perpetuation of the 
 system which produced his misery. 
 
 ' Have you heard that old Jack Linden and his wife went to 
 the workhouse to-day ? ' he said. 
 
 1 No,' replied Easton, indifferently. ' It's only what I ex- 
 pected.' 
 
 Owen then suggested it would not be a bad plan for Easton 
 
 274
 
 The New Tenants 
 
 to let his front room, now that it was empty, to Mrs Linden, 
 who would be sure to pay her rent, which would help Easton 
 to pay his. Easton agreed and said he would mention it to 
 Ruth ; and a few minutes later they parted. 
 
 The next morning Nora found Ruth talking to Mary Linden 
 and they all went round to look at the room. 
 
 The appearance of the Easton's house from outside was un- 
 altered. The white lace curtains still draped the front window, 
 and in the centre of the bay was what appeared to be a small 
 round table covered with a red cloth, upon which stood a 
 geranium standing in a saucer with a frill of coloured tissue 
 paper round the pot. These things and the curtains, which 
 fell close together, made it impossible for anyone to see that 
 the room was, otherwise, absolutely bare. The 'table' con- 
 sisted of an empty wooden box, with the lid of the scullery 
 copper placed upside down upon it for a top, and covered with 
 an old piece of red cloth. The purpose of this stratagem was 
 to prevent people thinking that they were hard up, although 
 they knew that nearly all their neighbours were in more or 
 less similar straits. 
 
 It was not a very large room, considering that it would have 
 to serve all purposes for herself and the two children, but Mrs 
 Linden knew it was not likety that she would be able to 
 get one as good elsewhere for the same price. So she agreed 
 to take it from the following Monday at two shillings a week. 
 
 As the distance was so short they were able to carry most 
 of the smaller things to their new home, and in the evening, 
 when it was dark, Owen and Easton brought the remainder 
 on a truck they borrowed for the purpose from Hunter. 
 
 Though trade was quiet in the ordinar}' way, during the 
 months of January and February Rushton and Compaq' had 
 several 4 boxing up' jobs to do, and as Crass not only polish- 
 ed the coffins, but assisted to take ' the box ' home, helped to 
 'lift in' the corpse, and acted as bearer in the funeral, he 
 frequently made as much as 6s. gd. on each occasion, and 
 sometimes a little more. But one of these funeral jobs led to 
 a desperate encounter between Crass and Sawkins. The 
 corpse was that of a well-to-do woman who had died of cancer, 
 and although the disease is not supposed to be infectious, 
 Sawkins was instructed to take all the bedding away to be 
 destroyed at the Town Refuse Destructor. There was a feather 
 bed, a bolster and two pillows, in such good condition that 
 
 275
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 Sawkins secretly determined to sell themjto a second-hand 
 dealer instead. As he was wheeling the things away on a truck 
 he met Hunter, who told him to leave the truck at the yard 
 for the present as he wanted him on another job. Meanwhile 
 Crass saw the things in the yard and hearing that they were 
 to be destroyed determined to keep them for himself; and 
 when Sawkins came later to take the bedding to the destructor, 
 Crass told him he need not trouble to do so, as there was 
 nothing wrong with the things and he was going to have the 
 lot. This did not suit Sawkins at all. He had been ordered to 
 take them to the destructor, he said, and he was going to do 
 it; and in fact he began dragging the truck out of the yard when 
 Crass rushed after him, seized the bundle of bedding and 
 carried it into the paint shop. Sawkins pursued him, and the 
 place resounded with their curses, while they indulged in a 
 frenzied tug of war over their booty, reeling and struggling 
 all over the place. Finally Sawkins wrenched the bundle 
 away and flung it on the truck, while Crass hurriedly put on 
 his coat and announced his intention of going to ask Mr Rush- 
 ton if he might have the things. Hearing this, Sawkins became 
 so infuriated that he lifted the bundle off the cart, and throw- 
 ing it upon the muddy ground, right into a pool of dirty water, 
 trampled it underfoot; then, taking his clasp knife, he began 
 savagely hacking the ticking so that the feathers all came 
 tumbling out. In a few minutes he had damaged the things 
 beyond all hope of repair, while Crass stood by, white and 
 trembling, watching the proceedings but lacking the courage 
 to interfere. 
 
 ' Now go to the office and ask Rushton for 'em, if you 
 like ! ' shouted Sawkins. 'You can 'ave 'em now, if you want 
 em!' 
 
 Crass made no answer and after a moment's hesitation, 
 went back to his work, and Sawkins piled the things on the 
 cart once more and took them away to the destructor. He 
 would not be able to sell them now, but at any rate he had 
 stopped that dirty swine Crass from getting them. 
 
 When Crass went back to the paint shop he found one of 
 the pillows, which had fallen out of the bundle during the 
 struggle. He took it home with him that evening and slept 
 upon it. It was a fine pillow, much fuller and softer and more 
 cosy than the one he had been accustomed to. 
 
 A few days afterwards, when he was re-papering the room 
 
 276
 
 The New Tenants 
 
 where the woman died, they gave him some other things that 
 had belonged to her to have destroyed, and amongst them was 
 a kind of wrap of grey knitted wool. Crass kept this for him- 
 self, thinking it was just the thing to wrap round his neck 
 when going to work on a cold morning ; and he used it for that 
 purpose during the rest of the winter.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 THE BRIGAND'S CAVE 
 
 ALL through the severe weather the wise, practical, philan- 
 thropic, fat persons whom the people of Mugsborough had 
 elected to manage their affairs, or whom they permitted to 
 manage them without being elected, grappled, or pretended 
 to grapple, with the ' problem ' of unemployment and poverty. 
 They continued to hold meetings, rummage and jumble sales, 
 entertainments and special services. They continued to 
 distribute the rotten cast-off clothing and boots and the 
 nourishment tickets. They were all so sorry for the poor, 
 especially for the 'dear little children!' They did all sorts 
 of things to help the children. In fact there was nothing that 
 they would not do for them except levy a halfpenny rate. It 
 would never do to do that. It might pauperise the parents 
 and destroy parental responsibility. They evidently thought 
 that it would be better to destroy the health or even the lives 
 of the 'dear little children' than to pauperise the parents or 
 undermine parental responsibility. These people seemed to 
 think that the children were the property of their parents. 
 They had not sense enough to see that the children are 
 not the property of their parents at all but the property of 
 the community. When they attain to manhood and woman- 
 hood they will be, if mentally or physically inefficient, a burden 
 on the community ; if they become criminals they will prey 
 upon the community ; and if they are healthy, educated and 
 brought up in good surroundings, they will become useful 
 citizens, able to render valuable service, not merely to their 
 parents, but to the community. Therefore the children are the 
 property of the community, and it is the business and to the 
 interest of the community to see that their constitutions are 
 not undermined by starvation. The secretary of the local 
 Trades' Council, a body formed of delegates from all the 
 different trades unions in the town, wrote a letter to the 
 
 278
 
 The Brigand's Cave 
 
 'Obscurer' setting fortli this view. He pointed out that a 
 halfpenny rate in that town would produce a sum of ^800, 
 which would be more than sufficient to provide food for all 
 the hungry school children. In the next issue of the paper 
 several other letters appeared from leading citizens, including, 
 of course, Sweater, Rushton, Didlum and Grinder, ridiculing 
 the proposal of the Trades' Council, who were insultingly 
 alluded to as 'pothouse politicians,' 'beer-sodden agitators,' 
 and so forth. Their right to be regarded as representatives of 
 the working men was denied, and Grinder, who, having made 
 enquiries amongst the working men, was acquainted with the 
 facts, stated that there was scarcely one of the local branches 
 of the trades unions which had more than a dozen members ; 
 and as Grinder's statement was true, the secretary was un- 
 able to contradict it. The majority of the working men were 
 also very indignant when they heard about the secretary's 
 letter: they said the rates were quite high enough as it was, 
 and they sneered at him for presuming to write to the papers 
 at all. 
 
 ' Who the bloody 'ell was e' ? ' they said. ' 'E was not a 
 gentleman ! 'E was only a workin' man the same as themselves 
 a common carpenter ! What the 'ell did 'e know about it ? 
 Nothing. 'E was just trying to make 'isself out to be Some- 
 body, that was all. The idea of one of the likes of them 
 writing to the papers ! ' 
 
 One afternoon when Crass, Harlow, Philpot and Easton 
 were talking together in the street, they presently caught 
 sight of Owen across the way. They had been discussing the 
 secretary's letter and the halfpenny rate, and as Owen was 
 one of the members of the Trades' Council Crass suggested 
 that they should go and tackle him about it. 
 
 ' How much is your house assessed at ? ' asked Owen, after 
 listening for about a quarter of an hour to Grass's objections. 
 
 ' Fourteen pound,' replied Crass. 
 
 ' That means that you would have to pay sevenpence per 
 year if we had a halfpenny rate. Wouldn't it be worth seven- 
 pence a year to you to know that there were no starving 
 children in the town ? ' 
 
 ' Why should I 'ave to 'elp to keep the children of a man 
 who's too lazy to work, or spends all 'is money on drink ? ' 
 shouted Crass. ' 'Ow areyergoin' to make out about the likes o' 
 them ? ' 
 
 2/9
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 4 If his children are starving we should feed them first and 
 punish him afterwards.' 
 
 'The rates is quite high enough as it is,' grumbled Harlow, 
 who had four children himself. 
 
 1 That's quite true, but you must remember that the rates 
 the working classes at present pay are spent mostly for the 
 benefit of other people. Good roads are maintained for people 
 who ride in motor cars and carriages; the Park and the 
 Town Band for those who have leisure to enjoy them ; the 
 police force to protect the property of those who have some- 
 thing to lose ; and so on. But if we pay this rate we shall get 
 something for our money.' 
 
 ' We gets the benefit of the good roads when we 'as to push 
 a 'andcart with a load o' paint and ladders,' said Easton. 
 
 ' Of course,' said Crass ; ' and besides, the workin' class gets 
 the benefit of all the other things too, because it all makes 
 work.' 
 
 'Well, for my part,' said Philpot, 'I wouldn't mind payin' 
 my share towards a 'apenny rate, although I ain't got no 
 kids o* me own.' 
 
 Sir Graball D'Encloseland, the member of Parliament for 
 the borough, was one of the bitterest opponents of the half- 
 penny rate, but as he thought it was probable that there 
 would soon be another General Election and he wanted the 
 children's fathers to vote for him again he was willing to do 
 something for them in another way. He had a little ten year 
 old daughter whose birthday came in that month, so the kind- 
 hearted baronet made arrangements to give a Tea to all the 
 school children in the town in honour of the occasion. The 
 tea was served in the schoolrooms, and each child was pre- 
 sented with a gilt-edged card on which was a printed portrait 
 of the little hostess, with 'From your loving little friend, 
 Honoria D'Encloseland ' in gold letters. During the evening 
 the little girl, accompanied by Sir Graball and Lady 
 D'Encloseland, motored round to all the schools where the 
 tea was being consumed ; the baronet said a few words, and 
 Honoria made a pretty little speech, specially learnt for the 
 occasion, at each place, and was loudly cheered and greatly 
 admired by everyone. The enthusiasm was not confined to 
 the boys and girls, for while the speech-making was going on 
 inside a crowd of 'grown-up children' were gathered round 
 outside the entrance, worshipping the motor car; and when the 
 
 280
 
 The Brigand's Cave 
 
 little party came out the crowd worshipped them also, going 
 into ecstacies of admiration of their benevolence and their 
 beautiful clothes. 
 
 For several weeks everybody in the town was in raptures 
 over this tea, or rather everybody except a miserable little 
 minority of socialists, who said it was bribery, an election- 
 eering dodge, and did no real good, and who continued to 
 clamour for a half-penny rate. 
 
 Another method of dealing with the Problem of Poverty 
 was the 'Distress Committee.' This body, or corpse, for there 
 was not much vitality in it, was supposed to exist for the 
 purpose of providing employment for deserving cases.' One 
 might be excused for thinking that any man, no matter what 
 his past may have been, who is willing to work for his living, 
 is a ' deserving case', but this was evidently not the opinion 
 of the persons who devised the regulations for the working 
 of this committee. Every applicant for work was immediately 
 given a long job, the filling up of a Record Paper ' three 
 pages of which were covered with insulting, inquisitive, 
 irrelevant questions concerning the private affairs and past 
 life of the ' case ' who wished to be permitted to work for his 
 living, and which had to be answered to the satisfaction of 
 Sir Graball D'Encloseland, Messrs Sweater, Rushton, 
 Didlum, Grinder and the other members of the committee, 
 before the case stood any chance of getting employment. 
 
 However notwithstanding the offensive nature of the 
 questions on the application form, during the five months 
 that this committee was in session, no fewer than 1237 
 broken spirited and humbled ' lion's whelps ' filled up the 
 forms and answered the questions as meekly as if they had 
 been sheep. The funds of the committee consisted of ^500 
 obtained from the Imperial Exchequer, and about ^250 in 
 charitable donations. This money was used to pay wages for 
 certain work some of which would have had to be done 
 even if the committee had never existed and if each of the 
 1237 applicants had had an equal share of the work their 
 grand total of earnings would have come to about twelve 
 shillings each. This was what the 'practical' persons, the 
 ' business men,' called ' dealing with the problem of unemploy- 
 ment ' twelve shillings to keep a wife and family for five 
 months \ 
 
 It is true that some of the members of the committee would 
 
 281
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 have been very glad if they could have put the means 01 
 earning a living within the reach of every man who was 
 willing to work ; but they simply did not know what to do, or 
 how to do it. They could not be ignorant of the reality of the 
 evil they were ' dealing with ' ; appalling evidences of it faced 
 them on every side ; and as after all these committee men 
 were human beings and not devils, they would have been 
 glad to mitigate it if they could have done so without hurting 
 themselves. 
 
 One evening during the time that distress was most 
 acute a meeting was held in the drawing-room at 'The Cave ' 
 by certain of the ' Shining Lights ' to arrange the details of a 
 Rummage Sale to be held in aid of the unemployed. It was 
 an informal affair, and while they were waiting for the other 
 luminaries, the early arrivals, Messrs Rushton, Didlum and 
 Grinder, Mr Oyley Sweater, the Borough Surveyor, Mr 
 Wireman, the electrical engineer who had been engaged as 
 an ' expert ' to examine and report upon the Electric Light 
 works, and two or three other gentlemen, all members of the 
 Brigand's Band, took advantage of the opportunity to discuss 
 a number of things they were mutually interested in which 
 were to be dealt with at the next meeting of the Town 
 Council. First, there was the affair of the untenanted Kiosk 
 on the Grand Parade. This building belonged to the Corpora- 
 tion, and Mr Grinder, as Managing Director of The Cosy 
 Corner Refreshment Company, was thinking of opening a 
 high-class refreshment lounge, provided the Corporation 
 would make certain alterations and let the place at a 
 reasonable rent. 
 
 Another item which was to be discussed at the Council 
 Meeting was Mr Sweater's generous offer to the Corporation 
 respecting the new drain connecting 'The Cave' with the 
 town main. 
 
 The report of Mr Wireman, the electrical expert, was also 
 to be dealt with, and after that a resolution in favour of the 
 purchase of the Mugsborough Electric Light and Installa- 
 tion Company Ltd. by the town was to be proposed. 
 
 In addition to these matters several other items, including 
 a proposal by Mr Didlum for an important reform in the 
 matter of conducting the meetings of the Council, formed 
 subjects for animated conversation between the brigands and 
 their host. 
 
 282
 
 The Brigand's Cave 
 
 The drawing-room of 'The Cave 'was now elaborately 
 furnished. A large mirror in a richly gilt frame, reached from 
 the carved marble mantelpiece to the cornice. A magnificent 
 clock in an alabaster case stood in the centre of the mantel- 
 piece and was flanked by two exquisitely painted and gilded 
 vases of Dresden ware. The windows were draped with 
 costly hangings and the floor was covered with a luxurious 
 carpet and expensive rugs ; and sumptuously upholstered 
 couches and easy-chairs added to the comfort of the apartment, 
 which was warmed by the immense fire of coal and oak logs 
 blazing and crackling in the grate. 
 
 This was Mr Grinder's first visit at the house, and he 
 expressed his admiration of the manner in which the ceiling 
 and the walls were decorated, remarking that he had always 
 liked this 'ere Japanese style. 
 
 ' Hardly wot you'd call Japanese, though, is it ? ' observed 
 Didlum, looking round with the air of a connoisseur. ' I should 
 be inclined to say it was rather more of the er Chinese 
 or Egyptian.' 
 
 ' Moorish,' explained Mr Sweater with a smile. ' I got the 
 idearat the Paris Exhibition. It's simler to the decorations in 
 the Alambra, the palace of the Sultan of Morocco. That clock 
 there is in the same style.' 
 
 The case of the clock referred to, which stood on a table 
 in a corner of the room, was of fretwork, in the form of an 
 Indian Mosque, with a pointed dome and pinnacles. This 
 was the case that Mary Linden had sold to Didlum, who 
 had had it stained a dark colour, polished and further 
 improved it by substituting a clock of more suitable design 
 than the one it originally held. Mr Sweater noticing it in 
 Didlum's window had purchased it seeing that the design 
 was similar in character to the painted decorations on the 
 ceiling and walls of his drawing-room. 
 
 'I went to the Paris Exhibition meself,' said Grinder, when 
 everyone had admired the exquisite workmanship of the clock- 
 case. ' I remember 'avin a look at the moon through that big 
 telescope. I was never so surprised in me life ; 3 r ou can see it 
 quite plain, and it's round, not flat like a plate, but round like 
 a football.' 
 
 ' Of course it is,' said Rushton, rather scornfully. ' But what 
 gets over me, is this : according to science, the earth turns 
 round on its axle at the rate of about twenty miles a minit. 
 
 283
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 Well, what about when a lark goes up in the sky and stays 
 there about a quarter of an hour ? Why, if it was true that 
 the earth was turnin' round at that rate all the time, when the 
 bird came down it would find itself 'undreds of miles away 
 from the place where it went up from ! But that doesn't 'appen 
 at all ; the bird always comes down in the same spot.' 
 
 'Yes, and the same thing applies to balloons and fly in' 
 machines,' said Grinder. ' If it was true that the world is 
 spinnin' round on its axle so quick as that, if a man started 
 out from Calais to fly to Dover, by the time he got to England 
 he'd find 'imself in North America, or p'raps further off still.' 
 
 'Talking about science,' said Grinder, breaking the puzzled 
 silence which followed; 'talking about science reminds me 
 of a conversation I 'ad with Dr Weakling the other day. You 
 know, he believes we're hall descended from monkeys.' 
 
 Everyone laughed, the thing was so absurd. The idea of 
 placing intellectual beings on a level with animals ! 
 
 ' But just wait and 'ear 'ow nicely I flattened 'im out,' con- 
 tinued Grinder. 'After we'd been arguin' a long time about 
 Everlution or some sich name, and a lot more tommy rot I 
 couldn't make no 'ead or tail of and to tell you the truth I 
 don't believe 'e understood 'arf of it 'imself I ses to 'im : 
 "Well," I ses, "if it's true that we're.hall descended from 
 monkeys," I ses, " I think your family must 'ave left orf where 
 mine begun." ' 
 
 In the midst of the laughter that greeted the conclusion of 
 Grinder's story, the other members of the committee arrived, 
 and put an end to the interesting discussion, and the business 
 for which the meeting had been called, the arrangements for 
 the forthcoming Rummage Sale, was proceeded with. 
 
 284
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 THE BRIGANDS AT WORK 
 
 AT the next meeting of the Town Council Mr Wireman's 
 report concerning the Electric Light Works was duly read. 
 The expert's opinion was so favourable and it was endorsed 
 by the Borough Engineer, Mr Oyley Sweater that a resolu- 
 tion was unanimously carried in favour of acquiring the Works 
 for the town, and a secret committee was appointed to arrange 
 the preliminaries. Alderman Sweater then suggested that a 
 suitable honorarium be voted to Mr Wireman for his services. 
 This was greeted with a murmur of approval from most of the 
 members, and Mr Didlum rose with the intention of proposing 
 a resolution to that effect when he was interrupted by Alder- 
 man Grinder, who said he couldn't see no sense in giving the 
 man a thing like that ; why not give him a sum of money ? 
 
 Several members said 'hear, hear,' to this, but some of the 
 others laughed. 
 
 ' I can't see nothing to laugh at,' cried Grinder, angrily. 
 ' For my part, I wouldn't give you tuppence for all the hon- 
 orariums in the country. I move that we pay him a sum of 
 money.' 
 
 1 I'll second that,' said another member of the band one of 
 those who had cried ' hear, hear '. 
 
 Alderman Sweater said that there seemed to be a little mis- 
 understanding, and explained that an honorarium was a sum 
 of money. 
 
 ' Oh, well, in that case I'll withdraw my resolution,' said 
 Grinder. ' I thought you wanted to give 'im a 'luminated ad- 
 dress or something like that.' 
 
 Didlum now moved that a letter of thanks and a fee of fifty 
 guineas be voted to Mr Wireman, and this was also unanim- 
 ously agreed to. Dr Weakling said that it seemed rather a lot, 
 but he did not go so far as to vote against it. 
 
 The next business was the proposal that the Corporation 
 
 285
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 should take over the drain connecting Mr Sweater's house 
 with the town main. Mr Sweater, being a public spirited 
 man, proposed to present this connecting drain, which ran 
 through a private road, to the Corporation, tobe theirs and their 
 successors' for ever, on condition that they would pay him the 
 cost of construction ^55 and agree to keep it in proper 
 repair. After a brief discussion it was decided to take over the 
 drain on the terms offered, and then Councillor Didlum pro- 
 posed a vote of thanks to Alderman Sweater for his generosity 
 in the matter. This was promptly seconded by Councillor 
 Rushton, and would have been carried nem. con. but for the 
 disgraceful conduct of Dr Weakling, who had the bad taste to 
 suggest that the amount was about double what the drain 
 could possibly have cost to construct, that it was of no use 
 to the Corporation at all, and that they would merely acquire 
 the liability to keep it in repair. 
 
 However, no one took the trouble to reply to Weakling, and 
 the Band proceeded to the consideration of the next business, 
 which was Mr Grinder's offer on behalf of the Cosy Corner 
 Refreshment Company to take the Kiosk on the Grand 
 Parade. Mr Grinder submitted a plan of certain alterations 
 that he would require the Corporation to make at the Kiosk, 
 and, provided the Council agreed to do this work, he was will- 
 to take a lease of the place for five years at ^20 per year. 
 
 Councillor Didlum proposed that the offer of the Cosy 
 Corner Refreshment Company Ltd. be accepted, and the re- 
 quired alterations proceeded with at once. The Kiosk had 
 brought in no rent for nearly two years, but apart from that 
 consideration, if they accepted this offer they would be able 
 to set some of the unemployed to work. (Applause). 
 
 Councillor Rushton seconded. 
 
 Dr Weakling pointed out that, as the proposed alterations 
 would cost about ^175 according to the estimate of the 
 borough engineer, and the rent being only 20 a year, it 
 would mean that the council would be ^75 out of pocket at 
 the end of the five years, to say nothing of the expense of 
 keeping the place in repair during all that time. (Disturbance). 
 He moved as an amendment that the alterations be made, and 
 that they then invite tenders, and let the place to the highest 
 bidder. (Great uproar). 
 
 Councillor Rushton said he was disgusted with the attitude 
 taken up by that man Weakling. (Applause). Perhaps it was 
 
 286
 
 The Brigands at Work 
 
 hardly right to call him a man (hear, hear). In the matter of 
 these alterations they had had the use of Councillor Grinder's 
 brains ; it was he who first thought of making these improve- 
 ments in the Kiosk, and therefore he, or rather the company 
 he represented.had a moral right to the tenancy. (Loud cheers). 
 
 Dr Weakling said that he thought it was understood that 
 when a man was elected to that council it was because he 
 was supposed to be willing to use his brains for the benefit of 
 his constituents. (Sardonic laughter). 
 
 The Mayor asked if there was any seconder to Weakling's 
 amendment, and as there was not, the original proposition 
 was put and carried. 
 
 Councillor Rushton suggested that a large shelter with 
 seating accommodation for about two hundred persons should 
 be erected on the Grand Parade near the Kiosk. The shelter 
 would serve as a protection against rain, or the rays of the 
 sun in summer ; it would add materially to the comfort of 
 visitors, and would be a notable addition to the attractions of 
 the town. 
 
 Councillor Didlum said it was a very good idear, and 
 proposed that the surveyor be instructed to get out the 
 plans. 
 
 Dr Weakling opposed the motion (laughter): it seemed to 
 him that the object was to benefit, not the town, but Mr 
 Grinder (disturbance). If this shelter were erected it would 
 increase the value of the Kiosk as a refreshment bar by a 
 hundred per cent. If Mr Grinder wanted a shelter for his cus- 
 tomers he should pay for it himself (uproar). He (Dr Weak- 
 ling) was sorry to have to say it, but he could not help think- 
 ing that this was a put-up job. (Loud cries of 'withdraw,' 
 'apologize,' 'turn 'im out,' and terrific uproar). 
 
 Weakling did not apologize or withdraw, but he said no 
 more. Didlum's proposition was carried, and the ' Band ' went 
 on to the next item on the agenda, which was a proposal by 
 Councillor Didlum to increase the salary of Mr Oyley Sweater, 
 the Borough Engineer, from fifteen pounds to seventeen pounds 
 per week. 
 
 Councillor Didlum said that when they had a good man 
 they ought to appreciate him (applause). Compared with 
 other officials, the Borough Engineer was not fairly paid (hear, 
 hear). The magistrate's clerk received seventeen pounds a 
 week, and the Town Clerk, seventeen pounds per week. 
 
 287
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 He did not wish it to be understood that these gentlemen 
 were hoverpaid far from it (hear, hear). It was not that they 
 got too much, but that the Engineer got too little. How could 
 they expect a man like that to hexist on a paltry fifteen pounds 
 a week ? Why, it was nothing more or less than sweating ! 
 (hear, hear). He had much pleasure in moving that the 
 Borough Engineer's salary be increased to seventeen pounds 
 a week, and that his hannual 'oliday be extended from a fort- 
 night to one calendar month with hard la he begged pardon 
 with full pay. (Loud cheers.) 
 
 Councillor Rushton said that he did not propose to make 
 a long speech it was not necessary. He would content him- 
 self with formally seconding Councillor Didlum's excellent 
 proposition. (Applause.) 
 
 Councillor Weakling, whose rising was greeted with derisive 
 laughter, said he must oppose the resolution. He wished it to 
 be understood that he was not actuated by any feeling of per- 
 sonal animosity towards the Borough Engineer, but at the 
 same time he considered it his duty to say that in his opinion 
 that official would be dear at half the price they were now 
 paying him. (Disturbance). He did not appear to understand 
 his business ; nearly all the work that was done cost in the 
 end about double what the Borough Engineer estimated it 
 could be done for. (Liar). He considered him to be a grossly in- 
 competent person (uproar), and was of opinion that if they 
 were to advertise they could get dozens of better men who 
 would be glad to do the work for five pounds a week. He 
 moved that Mr Oyley Sweater be asked to resign, and that 
 they advertise for a man at five pounds a week (great uproar). 
 
 Councillor Grinder rose to a point of order. He appealed 
 to the Chairman to squash the amendment. (Applause). 
 
 Councillor Didlum remarked that he supposed Councillor 
 Grinder meant 4 quash ' : in that case he would support the 
 suggestion. 
 
 Councillor Grinder said it was about time they put a stopper 
 on that feller Weakling. He (Grinder) did not care whether 
 they called it squashing or quashing ; it was all the same so 
 long as they nipped him in the bud. (Cheers). The man was a 
 disgrace to the Council, always hinterfering and 'indering the 
 business. 
 
 The Mayor, Alderman Sweater, said that he did not think 
 it consistent with the dignity of that Council to waste any 
 
 288
 
 The Brigands at Work 
 
 more time over this scurrilous amendment. (Applause) He 
 was proud to say that it had not even been seconded, and 
 therefore he would put Mr Didlum's resolution a proposition 
 which he had no hesitation in saying reflected the highest credit 
 upon that gentleman and upon all those who supported it. 
 (Vociferous cheers.) 
 
 All those who were in favour signified their approval in 
 the customary manner, and as Weakling was the only one 
 who opposed, the resolution was carried, and the meeting pro- 
 ceeded to the next business. 
 
 Councillor Rushton said that several influential ratepa3'ers 
 and employers of labour had complained to him about the 'igh 
 wages of the Corporation workmen, some of whom were paid 
 sevenpence-'apenny an hour. Sevenpence an hour was the 
 maximum wage paid to skilled workmen by private employers 
 in that town, and he failed to see why the Corporation should 
 pay more. (Hear, hear.) It had a very bad eflect on the minds 
 of the men in the employment of private firms, tending to 
 make them dissatisfied with their wages. The same state of 
 affairs prevailed with regard to the unskilled labourers in the 
 Council's employment. Private employers could get that class 
 of labour for fourpence-'apenny or fivepence an hour, and 
 yet the Corporation paid fivepence-'apenny and even six- 
 pence for the same class of work. (Shame.) It wasn't fair to the 
 ratepayers. (Hear, hear.) Considering that the men in the em- 
 ployment of the Corporation had almost constant work, if there 
 was to be a difference at all, they should get not more but 
 less than those who worked for private firms. (Cheers.) He 
 moved that the wages of the Corporation workmen be re- 
 duced in all cases to the same level as those paid by private 
 firms. 
 
 Councillor Grinder seconded. He said it amounted to a 
 positive scandal. Why, in the summer time some of these men 
 drew as much as 355. in a single week ! (Shame.) And it was 
 quite common for unskilled labourers, fellers who did nothing 
 but the very roughest work sich as carrying sacks of cement, 
 digging up the roads to get at the drains, and sich like easy 
 jobs, to walk off with 255. a week! (Sensation.) He had often 
 noticed some of these men swaggering about the town on 
 Sundays, dressed like millionaires and cigared up! They 
 seemed quite a different class of men from those who worked 
 for private firms ; and to look at the way some of their children 
 T 289
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 was dressed you'd think their fathers was Cabinet Minstrels ! 
 No wonder the ratepayers complained of the high rates. An- 
 other grievance was that all the Corporation workmen were 
 allowed two days' holiday every year in addition to the Bank 
 Holidays, and were paid for them! (Cries of 'shame,' 'scan- 
 dalous,' 'disgraceful/ etc.). No private contractor paid his men 
 for Bank Holidays, and why should the Corporation do so ? 
 He had much pleasure in seconding Councillor Rush ton's 
 resolution. 
 
 Councillor Weakling opposed the motion. He thought that 
 thirty-five shillings a week was little enough for a man to 
 keep a wife and family on (rot), even if alb the men got it 
 regularly, which they did not. Members should consider 
 what was the average amount per week throughout the 
 whole year, not merely the busy time ; and if they did that 
 they would find that even the skilled men did not average 
 more than twenty-five shillings a week, and in many cases 
 not so much. If this subject had not been introduced by 
 Councillor Rushton, he (Dr Weakling) had intended to pro- 
 pose that the wages of the Corporation workmen should be 
 increased to the standard recognised by the Trades' Unions. 
 (Loud laughter). It had been proved that the notoriously 
 short lives of the working people, whose average span of 
 life was about twenty years less than that of the well-to-do 
 classes, their increasingly inferior physique, and the high 
 rate of mortality amongst their children, were caused by the 
 wretched renumeration they received for hard and tiring 
 work, the excessive number of hours they have to work when 
 employed, the bad quality of their food, the badly constructed 
 and insanitary homes which their poverty compels them to 
 occupy, and the anxiety, worry, and depression of mind they 
 suffer when out of employment. (Cries of 'rot' 'bosh', and 
 loud laughter). Councillor Didlum said ' Rot.' It was a very 
 good word to describe the disease that was sapping the 
 foundations of society and destroying the health and happi- 
 ness and the very lives of so many of their fellow-countrymen 
 and women. (Renewed merriment and shouts of ' Go and buy 
 a red tie.') He appealed to the members to reject the resolu- 
 tion. He was very glad to say that he believed it was true 
 that the workmen in the employ of the Corporation were a 
 little better off than those in the employ of private contractors, 
 and if it were so, it was as it should be. They had need to be 
 
 290
 
 The Brigands at Work 
 
 better off than the poverty-stricken, half-starved wretches 
 who worked for private firms. 
 
 Councillor Didlum said that it was very hevident that 
 Dr Weakling had obtained his seat on that Council by false 
 pretences. If he had told the ratepayers as he was a Socialist 
 they would never have elected him. (Hear hear). Practically 
 every Christian minister in the country would agree with him 
 (Didlum) when he said that the poverty of the working classes 
 was not caused by the ' wretched renumeration they receive 
 as wages,' but by Drink (loud applause), and he was sure 
 enough of one thing, that the testimony of the clergy of all 
 denominations was more to be relied upon than the opinion 
 of a man like Dr Weakling. (Hear, hear). 
 
 Dr Weakling said that if some of the clergy referred to or 
 some of the members of that Council had to exist and toil 
 amid the same sordid surroundings, overcrowding and ignor- 
 ance as prevailed among the working classes, they would 
 probably seek to secure some share of pleasure and forget- 
 fulness in drink themselves. (Great uproar and shouts of 
 'order', 'withdraw', 'apologise.') 
 
 Councillor Grinder said that even if it was true that the 
 haverage lives of the working classes was twenty years 
 shorter than those of the better classes, he could not see 
 what it had got to do with Dr Weakling. (Hear, hear). So 
 long as the working class was contented to die twenty years 
 before their time he failed to see what it had got to do with 
 other people. They was not runnin' short of workers, was 
 they ? There was still plenty of 'em left. (Laughter). So long as 
 the workin' class was satisfied to die orf, let 'em die orf ! It 
 was a free country. (Applause). The workin' class 'adn't arst 
 Dr Weakling to stick up for them, had they ? If they wasn't 
 satisfied they would stick up for theirselves ! The working 
 men didn't want the likes of Dr Weakling to stick up for 
 them, and they would let 'im know it when the next election 
 came round. If he (Grinder) was a worldly man he would 
 not mind betting that the workin' men of Dr Weakling's 
 ward would give him ' the dirty kick out ' next November. 
 (Applause). 
 
 Councillor Weakling, who knew that this was probably 
 true, made no further protest. Rushton's proposition was 
 carried, and then the clerk announced that the next item was 
 the resolution Mr Didlum had given notice of at the last 
 
 291
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 meeting, and the Mayor accordingly called upon that 
 gentleman. 
 
 Councillor Didlum, who was received with loud cheers, 
 said that unfortunately a certain member of that Council 
 seemed to think he had a right to oppose nearly everything 
 that was brought forward. 
 
 The majority of the members of the band glared malignantly 
 at Weakling. 
 
 He hoped that for once the hindividual he referred to 
 would have the decency to restrain hisself, because the resolu- 
 tion he (Didlum) was about to have the honour of proposing 
 was one that he believed as no right-minded man, no matter 
 what his politics or religious opinions, could possibly object 
 to ; and he trusted that for the credit of the Council it would 
 be entered on the records as an unopposed motion. The 
 resolution was as follows : ' That from this date all the 
 meetings of this Council shall be opened with prayer and 
 closed with the singing of the Doxology ' (Loud applause). 
 
 Councillor Rushton seconded the resolution, which was 
 also supported by Mr Grinder, who said that at a time like 
 the present, when there was sich a lot of infiddles about who 
 said that we all came from monkeys, the council would be 
 showing a good example to the working classes by adopting 
 the resolution. 
 
 Councillor Weakling said nothing, so the new rule was 
 carried nem. con. and as there was no more business to be 
 done it was put into operation for the first time there and 
 then, Mr Sweater conducting the singing with a roll of paper 
 the plan of the drain of The Cave' and each member 
 singing a different tune. 
 
 Weakling withdrew during the singing, and afterwards, 
 before the Band dispersed, it was agreed that a certain 
 number of them were to meet the following evening to arrange 
 the details of the proposed raid on the finances of the town 
 in connection with the sale of the Electric Light Works. 
 
 292
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 THE BEANO MEETING 
 
 TOWARDS the end of March the outlook began to improve. By 
 the middle of April Rushton and Company were working 
 eleven and a half hours a day. In May, as the jobs increased 
 and the days grew longer, they were allowed to put in over- 
 time; and as the summer months came round, once more the 
 crowd of ragged trousered philanthropists began to toil and 
 sweat at their noble and unselfish task of making money for 
 Mr Rushton. Papering, painting, whitewashing, distempering, 
 digging up drains, repairing roofs, their zeal and enthusiasm 
 was unbounded. Their operations extended all over the town. 
 At all hours of the day they were to be seen going to or re- 
 turning from jobs, carrying planks and ladders, paint and 
 whitewash, chimney pots and drainpipes, a crowd of tattered 
 Imperialists, in broken boots, paint-splashed caps, their cloth- 
 ing saturated with sweat and plastered with mortar. The 
 daily spectacle of the workmen, tramping wearily home along 
 the pavement of the Grand Parade, caused some annoyance to 
 the better classes, and a letter appeared in 'The Obscurer' 
 suggesting that it would be better if they walked on the road. 
 When they heard of this letter most of the men adopted the 
 suggestion and left the pavement for their betters. 
 
 On the jobs themselves, meanwhile, the same old conditions 
 prevailed, the same frenzied hurry, the same scamping the 
 work, slobbering it over, cheating the customers ; the same 
 curses behind the foreman's back, the same grovelling in his 
 presence, the same strident bellowing from Misery: 'Get it 
 Done\ For Gord's sake get it Done I 'Aven't you finished yet? 
 We're losing money over this ! If you chaps can't tear into it 
 we'll 'ave a Alteration \ ' and the result was that the philan- 
 thropists often tore into it to such an extent that they worked 
 themselves out of a job, for business fluctuated, and occasion- 
 ally everybody was 'stood off' for a few days. Still, on the 
 
 293
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 whole, there was ' plenty of work '. Nearly all Rushton's old 
 hands were back again, and several new ones, including the 
 Semi-Drunk, several cheap ' light-weight ' men, and a few im- 
 provers, also cheap, because they were paid at a reduced 
 rate. 
 
 It was about the beginning of June that Crass, after due 
 consultation with several of the others, including Philpot, 
 Harlow, Bundy, Slyme, Easton and the Semi-Drunk, decided 
 to call a meeting of the hands for the purpose of considering 
 the advisability of holding the usual beano later on in the 
 summer. The meeting was held in the carpenters' shop down 
 at the yard one evening at six o'clock, which allowed time for 
 those interested to attend after leaving work. 
 
 The hands sat on the benches or carpenters' stools, or re- 
 clined upon heaps of shavings. On a pair of trestles in the 
 centre of the work-shop stood a large oak coffin which Crass 
 had just finished polishing. 
 
 When all those who were expected to turn up had arrived, 
 Payne, the foreman carpenter, was voted to the chair, and 
 then a solemn silence ensued, which was broken at last by 
 the chairman, who, in a lengthy speech, explained the object 
 of the meeting. He took the trouble to explain this several 
 times, going over the same ground and repeating the same 
 words over and over again, whilst the audience waited in a 
 deathlike and miserable silence for him to stop. Payne, how- 
 ever, did not appear to have any intention of stopping, for, 
 like a man in a trance, he continued to repeat what he had 
 said before, evidently under the impression, that he had to 
 make a separate explanation to each individual member of the 
 audience. At last the crowd could stand it no longer, and began 
 to shout ' hear, hear,' and to bang bits of wood and hammers 
 on the floor and the benches, and then, after a final repetition 
 of the statement, that the object of the meeting was to consider 
 the advisability of holding an outing or beanfeast, the chair- 
 man collapsed on to a carpenter's stool and wiped the sweat 
 from his forehead. 
 
 Crass then reminded the meeting that the last year's beano 
 had been an unqualified success, and for his part he would 
 be very sorry if they did not have one this year. Last year 
 they had four brakes, and they went to Tubberton Village. 
 It was true that there was nothing much to see at Tubberton, 
 but there was one thing they could rely on getting there that 
 
 294
 
 The Beano Meeting 
 
 they could not be sure of getting for the same money any- 
 where else, and that was a good feed. (Applause). Just for the 
 sake of getting on with the business, he would propose that 
 they decide to go to Tubberton, and that a committee be ap- 
 pointed to make arrangements about the dinner with the 
 landlord of the ' Queen Elizabeth's Head ' at that place. 
 
 Philpot seconded the motion, and Payne was about to call 
 for a show of hands, when Harlow rose to a point of order. 
 It appeared to him that they were getting on a bit too fast. 
 The proper way to this business was first to take the feeling 
 of the meeting as to whether they wished to have a beano at 
 all, and then, if the meeting was in favour of it, they could 
 decide where they were to go, and whether they would have 
 a whole day or only half a day. 
 
 The Semi-Drunk said that he didn't care a 'something' 
 where they went ; he was willing to abide by the majority. (Ap- 
 plause.) It was a matter of indifference to him whether they 
 had a day, or half a day, or two days ; he was agreeable to 
 anything. 
 
 Easton suggested that a special saloon carriage might be 
 engaged, and they could go and visit Madame Tussaud's Wax- 
 works. He had never been to that place and had often wished 
 to see it. But Philpot objected that if they went there, 
 Madame Tussaud might be unwilling to let them out again. 
 
 Bundy endorsed the remarks that had fallen from Crass 
 with reference to Tubberton. He did not care where they went, 
 they would never get such a good spread for the money as 
 they did last year at the ' Queen Elizabeth.' (Cheers.) 
 
 The chairman said that he remembered the last beano very 
 well. They had half a day left off work on Saturday at twelve 
 instead of one, so there was only one hour's wages lost ; went 
 home, had a wash and changed their clothes, and got up to 
 the 'Cricketers 'where the brakes was waiting at one. Then they 
 had two hours' drive to Tubberton, stopping on the way for 
 drinks at the 'Blue Lion,' the 'Warrior's Head,' the 'Bird in 
 Hand,' the 'Dewdrop Inn' and 'The World Turned Upside 
 Down.' (Applause). They arrived at the 'Queen Elizabeth' at 
 three thirty, and the dinner was ready; and it was one of the 
 finest blow-outs he had ever had. (Hear, hear). There was soup, 
 vegetables, roast beef, roast mutton, lamb and mint sauce, 
 plum duff, yorkshire, and a lot more. The landlord of the 
 'Queen Elizabeth ' kept as good a drop of beer as anyone could 
 
 2 95
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 wish to drink, and as for the teetotallers, they could have tea, 
 coffee or ginger beer. 
 
 Having thus made another start Payne found it very diffi- 
 cult to leave off, and was proceeding to relate further details 
 of the last beano when Harlow again rose up from his heap 
 of shavings and said he wished to call the chairman to order. 
 (Hear, hear). What the hell was the use of all this discussion 
 before they had even decided to have a beano at all ? Was the 
 meeting in favour of a beano or not ? That was the question. 
 
 A prolonged and awkward silence followed. Everybody was 
 very uncomfortable, looking stolidly on the ground or staring 
 straight in front of them. 
 
 At last Easton broke the silence by suggesting that it would 
 not be a bad plan if someone was to make a motion that a beano 
 be held. This was greeted with a general murmur of ' hear, 
 hear,' followed by another awkward pause, and then the chair- 
 man asked Easton if he would move a resolution to that effect. 
 After some hesitation Easton agreed, and formally moved : 
 'That this meeting is in favour of a Beano.' 
 
 The Semi-Drunk said that, in order to get on with the 
 business he would second the resolution. But meantime 
 several arguments had broken out between the advocates of 
 different places, and several men began to relate anecdotes 
 of previous beanos. Nearly everyone was speaking at once, 
 and it was some time before the chairman was able to put the 
 resolution. Finding it impossible to make his voice heard above 
 the uproar, he began to hammer on the bench with a wooden 
 mallet and to shout requests for order ; but this only served 
 to increase the din. 
 
 Whilst the chairman was trying to get the attention of the 
 meeting in order to put the question, Bundy had become in- 
 volved in an argument with several of the new hands who 
 claimed to know of an even better place than the ' Queen 
 Elizabeth' a pub called 'The New Found Out,' at Mirkfield, 
 a few miles further on than Tubberton ; and another individual 
 joined in the dispute, alleging that a house called 'The Three 
 Loggerheads,' at Slushton-cum-Dryditch, was the finest place 
 for a beano within a hundred miles of Mugsborough. He went 
 there last year with Pushem and Driver's crowd, and they had 
 roast beef, goose, jam tarts, mince pies, sardines, blancmange, 
 calves' feet jelly, and one pint for each man was included in 
 the cost of the dinner. In the middle of the discussion, how- 
 
 296
 
 The Beano Meeting 
 
 ever, they noticed that most of the others were holding up 
 their hands, so to show there was no ill feeling, they held up 
 theirs also, and then the chairman declared the motion was 
 carried unanimously. 
 
 Bundy said he would like to ask the chairman to read out 
 the resolution which had just been passed, as he had not 
 caught the words. 
 
 The chairman replied that there was no written resolution. 
 The motion was just to express the feeling of this meeting 
 as to whether there was to be an outing or not. 
 
 Bundy said he was only asking a civil question, a point of 
 information : all he wanted to know was, what was the terms 
 of the resolution ? Was they in favour of the beano or not ? 
 
 The chairman responded that the meeting was unanimously 
 in favour. (Applause.) 
 
 Harlow said that the next thing to be done was to decide 
 upon the date. Crass suggested the last Saturday in August. 
 That would give them plenty of time to pay in. 
 
 Sawkins asked whether it was proposed to have a day or 
 only half a day. He himself was in favour of the whole day. 
 It would only mean losing a morning's work. It was hardly 
 worth going at all if they only had half the day. 
 
 The Semi-Drunk remarked that he had just thought of a 
 very good place to go if they decided to have a change. 
 Three years ago he was working for Dauber and Botchit and 
 they went to 'The First In and the Last Out' at Bashford. It 
 was a very small place, but there was a field where you 
 could have a game of cricket or football, and the dinner was 
 AI at Lloyd's. There was also a skittle alley attached to the pub 
 and no charge was made for the use of it. There was a bit of 
 a river there, and one of the chaps got so drunk that he went 
 orf his onion and jumped into the water, and when they got 
 him out the village policeman locked him up, and the next 
 day he was took before the beak and fined two pounds or a 
 month's hard labour for trying to commit suicide. 
 
 Easton pointed out that there was another way to look at 
 it. Supposing they decided to have the beano he supposed it 
 would come to about six shillings a head. If they had it at 
 the end of August and started paying in now, say a tanner a 
 week, they would have plenty of time to make up the amount ; 
 but supposing the work fell off and some of them got the 
 push ? 
 
 297
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 Crass said that in that case a man could either have his 
 money back or he could leave it and continue his payments 
 even if he were working for some other firm ; the fact that 
 he was off from Rush ton's would not prevent him from going 
 to the beano. 
 
 Harlow proposed that they decide to go to the 'Queen Eliza- 
 beth ' the same as last year, and that they have half a day. 
 
 Philpot said that in order to get on with the business he 
 would second the resolution. 
 
 Bundy suggested as an amendment that it should be a 
 whole day, starting from the ' Cricketers ' at nine in the 
 morning, and Sawkins said that in order to get on with the 
 business he would second the amendment. 
 
 One of the new hands said he wished to move another 
 amendment. He proposed to strike out the ' Queen Elizabeth ' 
 and substitute the 'Three Loggerheads.' 
 
 The chairman after a pause enquired if there were any 
 seconder to this, and the Semi-Drunk said that although he 
 did not care much where they went, still, to get on with the 
 business he would second the amendment, although for his 
 own part he would prefer to go to the ' First In and Last 
 Out ' at Bashford. 
 
 The new hand offered to withdraw his suggestion re the 
 'Three Loggerheads ' in favour of the Semi-Drunk's proposi- 
 tion, but the latter said it didn't matter, it could go as it was. 
 
 As it was getting rather late several men went home, and 
 cries of ' Put the question ' began to be heard on all sides- 
 The chairman accordingly was proceeding to put Harlow's 
 proposition when the new hand interrupted him by pointing 
 out that it was his duty as chairman to put the amendments 
 first. This produced another long discussion, in the course of 
 which a very tall thin man with a harsh metallic voice gave 
 a long rambling lecture about the rules of order and the 
 conduct of public meetings. He spoke very slowly and 
 deliberately, using very long words and dealing with the 
 subject in an exhaustive manner. A resolution was a resolu- 
 tion, and an amendment was an amendment ; then there was 
 what was called an amendment to an amendment ; and so on. 
 
 This man kept on talking for about ten minutes, and might 
 have continued for ten hours if he had not been rudely 
 interrupted by Harlow, who said he wanted his tea, and he 
 would also like to get a few hours' sleep before going to work 
 
 298
 
 The Beano Meeting 
 
 in the morning. He was getting about sick of all this talk. 
 (Hear, hear.) In order to get on with the business he would 
 withdraw his resolution if the others would withdraw their 
 amendments. If they would agree to do this, he would then 
 propose another resolution which, if carried, would meet all 
 the requirements of the case. (Applause.) 
 
 The man with the metallic voice observed that it was not 
 necessary to ask the consent of those who had moved 
 amendments ; if the original proposition was withdrawn all 
 the amendments fell to the ground. 
 
 'Last year,' observed Crass, 'when we was goin' out of 
 the room after we'd finished our dinner at the "Queen Eliza- 
 beth " the landlord pointed to the table and said: "There's 
 enough left over for you all to 'ave another lot.'" (Cheers.) 
 
 Harlow said that he would move that it be held on the 
 last Saturday in August ; that it be for half a day, starting at 
 one o'clock so that they could work up till twelve, which 
 would mean that they would only lose one hour's pay ; that 
 they go to the same place as last year the "Queen Elizabeth " 
 (Hear, hear) ; and that the same committee that acted last year, 
 Crass and Bundy, be appointed to make all the arrange- 
 ments and collect the subscriptions. (Applause.) 
 
 The tall man observed that this was what was called a 
 compound resolution, and was proceeding to explain further, 
 when the chairman exclaimed that it did not matter a dam 
 what it was called would anyone second it? The Semi-Drunk 
 said that he would, in order to get on with the business. 
 
 Bundy moved, and Sawkins seconded, as an amendment, 
 that it should be a whole day. 
 
 The new hand moved to substitute the ' Loggerheads ' for 
 the ' Queen Elizabeth.' 
 
 Easton proposed to substitute Madame Tussaud's Wax- 
 works for the 'Queen Elizabeth.' He said he moved this just 
 to test the feeling of the meeting- 
 
 Harlow pointed out that it would cost at least a pound a 
 head to defray the expenses of such a trip. It would not be 
 possible for any of them to save the necessary amount during 
 the next three months. (Hear, hear.) 
 
 Philpot repeated his warning as to the danger of visiting 
 Madame Tussaud's. He was certain that if she once got them 
 she would never let them go. He had no desire to pass the 
 rest of his life as an image in a museum. 
 
 299
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 Easton said that he would withdraw his amendment. 
 
 Acting under the directions of the man with the metallic 
 voice, the chairman now proceeded to put the amendment to 
 the vote. Bundy's proposal that it should be a whole day was 
 defeated, only himself, Sawkins, and the Semi-Drunk being in 
 favour. The motion to substitute the ' Loggerheads ' for the 
 4 Queen Elizabeth ' was also defeated, and the compound re- 
 solution proposed by Harlow was then carried nem. con. 
 
 Philpot now proposed a hearty vote of thanks to the chair- 
 man for the very able manner in which he had conducted the 
 meeting. When this had been unanimously agreed to the 
 Semi-Drunk moved a similar tribute of gratitude to Crass for 
 his services to the cause, and the meeting dispersed. 
 
 The Semi-Drunk's engagement at Rush ton's was not of very 
 long duration, the job of cleaning and decorating 'Macaroni's 
 Royal Cafe' on the Grand Parade being the cause of his 
 downfall. The place was disgustingly dirty, but in no part was 
 the filth of such an unspeakable description as in the kitchen 
 and scullery, which the Semi-Drunk and another man called 
 Bill Bates were ordered to clean out and prepare for painting 
 and distempering. 
 
 At the start the job made them feel so ill that .they went 
 out and had a pint each before continuing operations. 
 
 After a little more work they felt that it was imperatively 
 necessary to have another drink, and this time they had two 
 pints each. Bill paid for the first two and then the Semi-Drunk 
 refused to return to work unless Bill would consent to have 
 another pint with him before going back. When they had 
 drunk the two pints they decided, in order to save them- 
 selves the trouble and risk of leaving the job, to take a couple 
 of quarts back with them in two bottles. 
 
 On their returning they found the coddy in the kitchen, 
 looking for them. He began to talk and grumble, but the Semi- 
 Drunk told him he could either have a drink out of one of the 
 bottles or a punch in the bloody nose, whichever he liked ! 
 Or if he did not fancy either he could go to hell ! 
 
 As the coddy was a sensible man he took the beer 
 and advised them to pull themselves together and try to 
 get some work done before Misery came, which they 
 promised to do. 
 
 Shortly afterwards Misery came and began shouting at 
 them because he said it looked as if they had been asleep all 
 
 300
 
 The Beano Meeting 
 
 the morning ! Here it was nearly ten o'clock, and so far as he 
 could see they had done Nothing ! 
 
 When he was gone they drank the rest of the beer and then 
 felt more inclined to laugh than work. What did they care for 
 Hunter or Rushton either ? To hell with both of 'em ! They 
 left off scraping and scrubbing, and began throwing buckets of 
 water over the dresser and the walls, laughing uproariously 
 all the time. 
 
 ' We'll show the blighters how to wash down paintwork ! ' 
 shouted the Semi-Drunk, as he stood in the middle of the room 
 and hurled a pailful of water over the door of the cupboard. 
 'Bring us another bucket of water, Bill.' 
 
 Bill was out in the scullery filling his pail under the tap, and 
 laughing so much that he could scarcely stand. As soon as 
 it was full he passed it to the Semi-Drunk, who threw it bodily, 
 pail and all, on to the bench in front of the window, smashing 
 one of the panes of glass. The water poured off the table and 
 all over the floor. 
 
 Bill brought the next pailful in and threw it at the kitchen 
 door, splitting one of the panels from top to bottom ; and 
 then they threw about half a dozen more pailfuls over the 
 dresser. 
 
 'We'll show the blighters 'ow to clean paintwork,' they 
 shouted, as they hurled the buckets at the walls and doors. 
 
 By this time the floor was deluged with water, which 
 mingled with the filth and formed a sea of mud. 
 
 They left the two taps running in the scullery, and as the 
 waste pipe of the sink was choked up with dirt the sink filled 
 up and overflowed like a miniature Niagara. 
 
 The water ran out under the doors into the back yard and 
 along the passage out to the front door. But Bill Bates and 
 the Semi-Drunk remained in the kitchen, smashing the pails 
 at the walls and the doors of the dresser, and cursing and 
 laughing hysterically. 
 
 They had just filled the two buckets and were bringing 
 them into the kitchen when they heard Hunter's voice in the 
 passage bellowing enquiries as to where all that water was com- 
 ing from. Then they heard him advancing towards them and 
 stood waiting, and directly he put his head in at the door they 
 let fly at him with both pails at once. Unfortunately they were 
 too drunk and excited to aim straight. One pail struck the 
 middle of the door and the other the wall at the side of it. 
 
 3 OI
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 Misery hastily shut the door and ran upstairs, and pre- 
 sently the coddy came down and called out to them from the 
 passage. 
 
 They went out to see what he wanted, and he told them 
 that Misery had gone to the office to get their wages ready ; 
 they were to make out their time sheets and go for their money 
 at once. Misery had said that if they were not there in ten 
 minutes he would have the pair of them locked up. 
 
 The Semi-Drunk said that nothing would suit them better 
 than to have all their pieces at once, they had spent all their 
 money and wanted another drink. Bill Bates concurred, so 
 they borrowed a piece of black lead pencil from the coddy and 
 made out their time sheets, took off their aprons, put them 
 into their tool bags, and went to the office for their money, 
 which Misery passed out to them through the trap door. 
 
 The news of this exploit spread all over the town during 
 that day and evening, and although it was in July, the next 
 morning at six o'clock there were half a dozen men waiting 
 at the yard to ask Misery if there was ' any chance of 
 a job.' 
 
 Bill Bates and the Semi-Drunk had had their spree and had 
 got the sack for it, and most of their mates said it served them 
 right for there was very little real sympathy between the men, 
 and there were few who would not seize the opportunity of 
 'telling each other off' to the coddy or foreman with a view to 
 currying favour in high places. 
 
 But to hear them talking in the pub of a Saturday afternoon 
 just after pay time one would think them the best friends and 
 mates and the most independent spirits in the w T orld, fellows 
 whom it would be very dangerous to trifle with and who 
 would stick up for each other through thick and thin. All 
 sorts of stories were related of the wonderful things they had 
 done and said; of jobs they had 'chucked up,' and masters 
 they had ' told off' ; of pails of whitewash thrown over offend- 
 ing employers. But strange to say, for some reason or other 
 it seldom happened that a third party ever witnessed any of 
 these incidents. It seemed as if a chivalrous desire to spare 
 the feelings of their victims had always prevented them from 
 doing or saying anything to them in the presence of wit- 
 nesses. 
 
 When he had drunk a few pints, Crass was a very good 
 hand at these stories. He told one in the bar of the ' Cricket- 
 
 302 

 
 The Beano Meeting 
 
 ers ' on the Saturday afternoon of the same week that Bill 
 Bates and the Semi-Drunk got the sack. 
 
 1 Last Thursday night about five o'clock,' said Crass, 
 1 'Unter comes inter the paint shop an* ses to me : " I wants 
 a pail o' wash made up to-night, Crass," e' ses, " ready for 
 fust thing in the mornin'," 'e ses. " Oh," I ses, lookin' 'im 
 straight in the bloody eye. "Oh, yer do, do yer?"- 
 just like that. "Yes," 'e says. "Well, you can bloody well 
 make it yerself ', I ses, "'cos I ain't agoin' to," I ses, just 
 like that. " Wot the 'ell do yer mean," I ses, " by comin' 
 'ere at this time o' the night with a order like that ? " I ses. 
 You'd a larfed,' continued Crass, as he wiped his mouth with 
 the back of his hand after taking another drink out of his 
 glass, and looking round to note the effect of the story ; ' you'd 
 a larfed if you'd bin there. 'E was fairly flabbergasted ! An' 
 then 'e started apoligising and said as 'e 'ad'nt meant no 
 offence ; but I told 'im bloody straight not to come no more of 
 it. "You bring the horder at a reasonable time," I ses just 
 like that "and I'll attend to it," I ses, "but not otherwise," 
 I ses.' 
 
 As he concluded this story Crass drained his glass and 
 gazed round upon his admiring audience. Yes, undoubtedly 
 that was the proper way to deal with such bounders as 
 Nimrod : take up a strong attitude, an' let 'em see as you'll 
 stand no nonsense ! 
 
 'Yer don't blame me, do yer?' continued Crass. 'Why 
 should we put up with a lot of old buck from the likes of 
 'im ! We're not a lot of bloody Chinamen, are we ? ' 
 
 Far from blaming him, they all assured him that they 
 would have acted in precisely the same way under similar 
 circumstances. 
 
 ' For my part, I'm a bloke like this,' said a tall man with 
 a very loud voice, who as a matter of fact nearly fell down 
 dead every time Rushton or Misery looked at him; 'I'm a 
 bloke like this 'ere : I never stands no cheek from no gaffers ! 
 If a guv'nor ses two bloody words to me, I downs me tools 
 an' I ses to'im : " Wot ! don't I suit yer, guv'nor ? Ain't I done 
 enuff for yer? Werry good ! Gimmie me bleedin' 'a'pence." ' 
 
 'Quite right too,' said everybody. That was the way to 
 serve 'em. If only everyone would do the same as the tall 
 man, who had just paid for another round of drinks, things 
 would be a lot more comfortable than they was. 
 
 303
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 'Last summer I was workin' for ole Buncer,' said a little 
 man with a cutaway coat several sizes too large for him. ' I 
 was workin' for ole Buncer, over at Windley, an' you all 
 knows as 'e don't arf lower it. Well, one day, wen I knowed 
 "e was on the drunk, I 'ad to first coat a room out, white ; 
 so thinks I to meself : " If I buck up I shall be able to get this 
 lot done by about four o'clock, an' then I can clear orf 'ome." 
 'Cos I reckoned as 'e'd be about flattened out by that time, 
 an' you know 'e ain't got no foreman. So I tears into it an' 
 gets this 'ere room done about a quarter past four an' I'd jist 
 got me things put away for the night wen 'oo should come 
 fallin' up the bloody stairs but ole Buncer, drunk as a howl ! 
 An' no sooner 'e gits inter the room than 'e starts yappin' an' 
 rampin' ! "Is this 'ere hall you've done?" 'e shouts out. 
 " Wothcher bin up to hall day ? " 'e ses ; an' 'e keeps on 
 shoutin' an' swearin' till at last I couldn't stand it no longer, 
 'cos you can guess I wasn't in a very good temper with 'im 
 comin' along jist then wen I thought I was goin' to get orf 
 a bit early. So wen 'e kept on shoutin' I never made no 
 answer to 'im but I ups with me fist an' I gives 'im a slosh in 
 the dial an' stopped 'is clock ! Then I chucked the pot o' wite 
 paint hover 'im an' kicked 'im down the bloody stairs.' 
 
 1 Serve 'im blooming well right, too,' said Crass, as he took 
 a fresh glass of beer from one of the others, who had just 
 1 stood ' another round. 
 
 ' What did the blighter say to that ? ' enquired the tall man. 
 
 ' Not a bloody word ! ' replied the little man. ' 'E picked 'iself 
 up and called a keb wot was passin' an' got inter it an' went 
 'ome, an' I never seen no more of 'im until about arf past 
 eleven the next day, wen I was second coatin' the room, an' 
 'e comes up with a noo suit o' clothes on an' arsts me if I'd 
 like to come hover to the pub an' 'ave a drink ? So we goes 
 hover an' 'e calls for a whisky an' soda for 'isself an' arsts me 
 wot I'd 'ave, so I 'ad the same. An' wile we was gettin' it 
 down us, 'e ses to me: "Ah, Garge," 'e ses, "you losed your 
 temper with me yesterday," 'e ses.' 
 
 'There you are, you see!' said the tall man. 'There's an 
 example for yer! If you 'adn't served 'im as you did 
 you'd most likely have 'ad to put up with a lot more ole 
 buck.' 
 
 They all agreed that the little man had done quite right. 
 They all said that they didn't blame him in the least ; they 
 
 304
 
 The Beano Meeting 
 
 would all have done the same ; in fact, this was the way they 
 all conducted themselves whenever occasion demanded it. 
 
 Crass stood the final round of drinks, and as he evidently 
 thought that circumstance deserved to be signalised in some 
 special manner he proposed the following toast, which was 
 drunk with enthusiasm : 
 
 ' To hell with the man, 
 (May he never grow fat) 
 What carries two faces, 
 Under one 'at.' 
 
 305
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE SOCIALIST VAN 
 
 RUSHTON and Company did a lot of work that summer, not 
 many big jobs but a lot of little ones, and the boy Bert was 
 kept busy running from one to the other. He spent most of 
 his time dragging a hand-cart with loads of paint, or planks 
 and steps, and seldom went out to work with the men, for 
 when he was not taking things out to the various places 
 where the philanthropists were working, he was in the paint- 
 shop at the yard, scraping out dirty paintpots or helping 
 Crass to mix up colours. Although scarcely anyone seemed 
 to notice it, the boy presented a truly pitiable spectacle. He 
 was very pale and thin. Dragging the hand-cart did not help 
 him to put on flesh, for the weather was very hot and the 
 work made him sweat. 
 
 His home was right away on the other side of Windley. It 
 took him more than three-quarters of an hour to walk to the 
 shop, and as he had to be at work at six that meant that he 
 must leave home at a few minutes past five every morning, 
 so that he always got up about half past four. 
 
 About the middle of June Hunter met with an accident. He 
 was tearing off to one of the jobs on his bicycle about five 
 minutes to twelve, to see if he could catch anyone knocking 
 off before the proper time, and while going down a rather 
 steep hill his brakes failed to act, and to save himself from 
 being smashed against the railings at the bottom of the hill, 
 Misery threw himself off the machine, with the result that his 
 head and face and hands were terribly cut and bruised. He 
 was so badly knocked about that he had to remain at home 
 for nearly three weeks, much to the delight of the men and 
 the annoyance not to say indignation of Mr Rushton, who 
 could not make out estimates without assistance. There were 
 several jobs to be tendered for just at that time, so Rushton 
 sent the specifications round to Hunter's house for him to 
 
 306
 
 The Socialist Van 
 
 figure out the prices, and while he was laid up he spent most 
 of his time sitting up in bed, swathed in bandages, trying to 
 calculate the probable cost of these jobs. Rushton did not 
 come to see him, but he sent Bert nearly every day, either 
 with some specifications, or some accounts, or something of 
 that sort, or with a note inquiring when Hunter thought he 
 would be able to return to work. 
 
 All sorts of rumours became prevalent amongst the men 
 concerning Hunter's condition. He had 'broken his spiral 
 column,' he had ' conjunction of the brain,' or he had injured 
 his 'innards 'and would probably never be able to 'do no 
 more slave-drivin' '. Crass, who had helped Mr Rushton to 
 'price up ' several small jobs, began to think it might not be 
 altogether a bad thing for himself if something were to happen 
 to Hunter, and he began to put on side and to assume airs of 
 authority, and became so bumptious and offensive in his posi- 
 tion of deputy foreman that most of the men were almost 
 glad when Nimrod did return. They said that if Crass ever 
 got the job he would be a damn sight worse than Hunter, who 
 when he first came back seemed to have improved in character. 
 But the change was only of short duration and he was soon 
 driving, spying and bullying as hard as ever, while one of the 
 new rules he instituted, at Grass's private instigation, made 
 him more unpopular, if possible, than before. When the men 
 worked overtime it had been their custom to snatch a few 
 minutes off at six o'clock for a mouthful of food. Misery knew 
 they could not work from dinner till 7.30 without some- 
 thing to eat, but he instituted a new regulation that they were 
 to stop work from 6 to 6.30, and lose half an hour's pay, so that 
 instead of knocking off at 7.30 they were obliged to work till 
 8 o'clock without extra pay. The men cursed and grumbled, 
 but put up with it like sheep, though there were one or two, 
 who apparently had become contaminated with Socialistic 
 theories, who said that they did not desire to work overtime 
 at all, ten hours a day were quite enough for them, in fact they 
 would rather do only eight. What they wanted, they said, was 
 not more work, but more grub, more clothes, more leisure, 
 more pleasure and better homes. They wanted to be able to 
 go for country walks or bicycle rides, to go out fishing or to 
 go to the seaside and bathe and lie on the beach. But there 
 were not many so selfish as this. The majority desired nothing 
 but to be allowed to work, and as for their children, why, 
 
 307
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 4 what was good enough for them, oughter be good enough for 
 the kids.' 
 
 One Sunday morning towards the end of July, a band of 
 about twenty-five men and women on bicycles invaded the 
 town. Two of them, who rode a few yards in front of the others, 
 had affixed to their handle bars a slender upright standard 
 from the top of one of which fluttered a small flag of crimson 
 silk with ' International Brotherhood and Peace,' in gold 
 letters. The other standard was similar in size and colour, 
 but with a different legend : ' One for all and All for one.' 
 
 As they rode along they gave leaflets to the people in the 
 streets, and whenever they came to a place where there were 
 many people they dismounted and walked about, distributing 
 leaflets. They made several long halts during their progress 
 along the Grand Parade, where there was a considerable crowd, 
 and then they rode over the hill to Windley, which they 
 reached just before opening time. There were little crowds 
 waiting outside the several public-houses, and a number of 
 people passing through the streets on their way home from 
 church and chapel. To all who would take them the strangers 
 distributed leaflets, and they also went through the side streets 
 putting them under the doors and in the letter boxes. When 
 they had exhausted their stock they remounted and rode back 
 the way they came. 
 
 Meantime the news of their arrival had spread, and as they 
 returned through the town they were greeted with jeers and 
 booing. Presently someone threw a stone, and as there hap- 
 pened to be plenty of stones just there, several others followed 
 suit and began running after the retreating cyclists, throwing 
 stones, hooting and cursing. 
 
 The leaflet which had given rise to all this fury read as 
 follows : 
 
 WHAT IS SOCIALISM ? 
 
 At present the workers with hand and brain produce 
 continually food, clothing and all useful and beautiful 
 things in great abundance, 
 
 BUT THEY LABOUR IN VAIN 
 
 for they are mostly poor and often in want. They find 
 it a hard struggle to live. 
 
 Their women and children suffer, and their old age 
 is branded with pauperism. 
 
 308
 
 The Socialist Van 
 
 Socialism is a plan by which poverty will be abolished 
 and all will be enabled to live in plenty and comfort, with 
 leisure and opportunity for ampler life. 
 
 If you wish to hear more of this plan, come to the field 
 at the Cross Roads on the hill at Windley, on Tuesday 
 evening next at 8 p.m., and 
 
 LOOK OUT FOR THE SOCIALIST VAN. 
 
 The cyclists rode away amid showers of stones without 
 sustaining much damage. One had his hand cut and another, 
 who happened to look round, was struck on the forehead, but 
 these were the only casualities. 
 
 On the following Tuesday evening, long before the ap- 
 pointed time, a large crowd assembled at the cross roads on 
 the hill at Windley, evidently prepared to give the Socialists 
 a warm reception. There was only one policeman in uniform 
 but several plain-clothes were amongst the crowd. 
 
 Crass, Dick Wantley, the Semi-Drunk, Sawkins, Bill Bates 
 and several other frequenters of the ' Cricketers ' were there, 
 and also a sprinkling of tradespeople including the Old Dear 
 and Mr Smallman, the grocer, and a few ladies and gentlemen, 
 well-to-do visitors ; but the bulk of the gathering consisted of 
 working-men, labourers, mechanics and boys. 
 
 As it was quite evident that the crowd meant mischief- 
 many of them had their pockets filled with stones, and were 
 armed with sticks several of the local Socialists, including 
 Owen, were in favour of going to meet the van to endeavour 
 to persuade those in charge from coming further, and with 
 that object they went down the road in the direction from 
 which the van was expected. They had not gone very far, 
 however, before the people, divining their intention, began 
 to follow them, and while they were hesitating what course 
 to pursue, the Socialist Van, escorted by five or six men on 
 bicycles, appeared round the corner at the bottom of the 
 hill. 
 
 As soon as the crowd saw the van they gave an exultant 
 cheer, or rather, yell, and began running down the hill, and in 
 a few minutes it was surrounded by a howling mob. The van 
 was drawn by two horses ; there was a door and a small plat- 
 form at the back and over this was a sign with white letters 
 on a red ground : 'Socialism, the only hope of the Workers.' 
 
 The driver pulled up, and another man on the platform at 
 
 309
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 the rear attempted to address the crowd, but his voice was 
 inaudible in the din of howls, catcalls, hooting, and obscene 
 curses. After about an hour of this, as the crowd began push- 
 ing against the van and trying to overturn it, the terrified 
 horses became restive and uncontrollable, and the man on the 
 box attempted to drive up the hill. This seemed still further 
 to infuriate the horde of savages who surrounded the van. 
 Numbers of them clutched the wheels and turned them the 
 reverse way, screaming that it must go back to where it came 
 from ; and several of them accordingly seized the horses' heads 
 and, amid cheers, turned them round. 
 
 The man on the platform was still trying to make himself 
 heard, but without success. The strangers who had come 
 with the van and the little group of local socialists, who had 
 forced their way close to the platform in front of the would- 
 be speaker, only increased the din by their shouts of appeal 
 to the crowd to ' give the man a fair chance.' This little body- 
 guard closed round the van as it began to move slowly down- 
 hill, but it was completely out-numbered, and the mob, 
 being dissatisfied with the rate at which the van was pro- 
 ceeding, began to shout : ' Run it away ! ', ' Take the brake 
 off! ' ; and several savage rushes were made with the intention 
 of putting these suggestions into execution. 
 
 Some of the defenders were hampered by their bicycles, 
 but by tremendous efforts they succeeded in keeping the crowd 
 off until the foot of the hill was reached, and then someone 
 threw the first stone, which by a strange chance happened 
 to strike one of the cyclists, whose head was already bandaged. 
 It was the same man who had been hit on the Sunday. This 
 stone was soon followed by others, and the man on the plat- 
 form was the next to be struck. He got it right on the mouth, 
 and as he put up his handkerchief to staunch the blood another 
 stone struck him on the forehead just above the temple, and 
 he dropped forward on his face onto the platform as if he had 
 been shot. As the speed of the vehicle increased, a regular 
 hail of stones fell upon the roof and against the sides of the 
 van and whizzed past the retreating cyclists, while the crowd 
 followed close behind, cheering, shrieking out volleys of ob- 
 scene curses, and howling like wolves. 
 
 ' We'll give the swines Socialism ! ' shouted Crass, who was 
 literally foaming at the mouth. 
 
 'We'll teach 'em to come 'ere trying to undermine our 
 
 310
 
 The Socialist Van 
 
 bloody morality ! ' howled Dick Wantley, as he hurled a lump 
 of granite at one of the cyclists. 
 
 After pursuing the van until it was out of range the mob 
 bethought themselves of the local Socialists; but these were 
 nowhere to be seen, having prudently withdrawn as soon as 
 the van had got clear. The victory gained, the upholders of 
 the present system returned to the piece of waste ground on 
 the top of the hill, where a gentleman in a silk hat and frock 
 coat stood up on a little hillock and made a speech. He said 
 nothing about the Distress Committee or the Soup Kitchen or 
 the children who went to school without proper clothes or 
 food, and made no reference to what was to be done next 
 winter when nearly everybody would be out of work. But he 
 said a great deal about the Glorious Empire and the Flag, 
 and his remarks were received with rapturous applause ; and 
 at the conclusion of his address the crowd sang the National 
 Anthem with great enthusiasm and dispersed, congratulating 
 themselves that they had shown, to the best of their ability, 
 what Mugsborough thought of Socialism.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 THE BEANO 
 
 WHEN the eventful day of the beano arrived, the hands were 
 paid at twelve o'clock and rushed off home to have a wash 
 and change. 
 
 The brakes were to start from the 'Cricketers' at one, 
 but it was arranged for the convenience of those who lived 
 at Windley that they were to be picked up at the Cross 
 Roads at one-thirty. 
 
 There were four brakes altogether, three large ones for the 
 men, and one small one for the accommodation of Mr Rushton 
 and a few of his personal friends, Didlum, Grinder, Mr 
 Toonarf, an architect, and Mr Lettum, a house and estate 
 agent. One of the drivers was accompanied by a friend who 
 carried a long coach horn. This gentleman was not paid to 
 come, but being out of work, he thought that the men would 
 be sure to stand him a few drinks and would probably make 
 a collection for him in return for his services. 
 
 A brief halt was made at the Cross Roads to pick up 
 several of the men, including Philpot, Harlow, Easton, Ned 
 Dawson, Sawkins, Bill Bates and the Semi-Drunk. The two 
 last named were now working for Smeariton and Leavit, but 
 as they had been paying in from the first, they had elected 
 to go to the beano rather than have their money back. The 
 Semi-Drunk and one or two other habitual boozers were very 
 shabby and down at heel, but the majority of the men were 
 decently dressed. Some had taken their Sunday clothes out 
 of pawn especially for the occasion. Crass, Slyme and one or 
 two of the single men were in new 'secondhand' suits, 
 Harlow's wife had cleaned up his old straw hat with oxalic 
 acid, and Easton had carefully dyed the faded ribbon of his 
 black bowler with ink. 
 
 The small brake with Rushton and his friends led the way, 
 followed by the largest brake, with Misery in the front seat. 
 
 312
 
 The Beano 
 
 Payne, the foreman carpenter, occupied the position of honour 
 on the third brake, while Crass presided over the fourth, on 
 the step of which was perched the man with the coach horn. 
 
 The mean streets of Windley were soon left far behind 
 and the bean-feasters found themselves journeying along a 
 sunlit, winding road bordered with hedges of hawthorn, 
 holly and briar, past rich brown fields of standing corn, 
 through lofty avenues of elms and oaks, over old mossy 
 stone bridges, past thatched wayside cottages where the 
 people waved their hands in friendly greeting, and the sun- 
 burnt children ran, cheering, behind the brakes, for the 
 pennies the men threw to them. 
 
 From time to time the men made half-hearted attempts at 
 singing, but it never came to much because most of them 
 were very hungry. They had not had time for dinner and 
 would not have taken any even if they had, for they wished 
 to reserve their appetites for the banquet at the 'Queen 
 Elizabeth ' at half past three. However, they cheered up a 
 little after the first halt at the 'Blue Lion', where most of 
 them got down and had a drink. Two or three, including the 
 Semi-Drunk, Ned Dawson, Bill Bates and Joe Philpot, had 
 more than one and felt so much happier that shortly after 
 they started off again sounds of melody were heard from 
 their brake. But it was not very successful, and though 
 after the second halt about five miles further on at the 
 ' Warrior's Head ' fitful bursts of singing arose from time 
 to time from each of the brakes, there was no heart in 
 it. It is not easy to be jolly on an empty stomach. Neither 
 could they properly appreciate the scenes through which they 
 were passing. They wanted their dinners, and that was the 
 reason why this long ride, instead of being a pleasure, after 
 a while became a weary journey which seemed as if it were 
 never coming to an end. 
 
 The next stop was at the 'Bird in Hand', a wayside public 
 house that stood all by itself in a lonely hollow. The landlord 
 was a fat, jolly-looking man, and there were several customers 
 in the bar, men who looked like farm labourers, but there 
 were no other houses to be seen anywhere. This extraordinary 
 circumstance exercised the minds of the travellers and formed 
 the principal topic of conversation until they arrived at the 
 1 Dewdrop Inn ' about half-an-hour afterwards. The first 
 brake, containing Rushton and his friends, passed on without 
 
 313
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 stopping here. The occupants of the second brake, which was 
 only a little way behind the first, were divided in opinion 
 whether to stop or go on. Some shouted out to the driver to 
 pull up, others ordered him to proceed, the rest were un- 
 certain which course to pursue. Their indecision, however, 
 was not shared by the coachman, who, knowing that if they 
 stopped somebody would be sure to stand him a drink, drew 
 rein at the inn, an example that was followed by both the 
 other brakes as they drove up. 
 
 It was a very brief halt, not more than half the men getting 
 down at all, and those who remained in the brakes grumbled 
 so much at the delay that the others hastily drank their beer 
 and the journey proceeded almost in silence. No attempts at 
 singing, no noisy laughter; they scarcely spoke to each other, 
 but sat gloomily gazing out over the surrounding country. 
 
 Instructions had been given to the drivers not to stop 
 again till they reached the 'Queen Elizabeth,' and they 
 therefore drove past the ' World turned Upside Down ' 
 without stopping, much to the chagrin of the landlord of that 
 house, who stood at the door with a sickly smile on his face. 
 Some of the men shouted out that they would give him a 
 call on their way back, and with this he had to be content. 
 
 1 hey reached the long desired ' Queen Elizabeth ' at twenty 
 minutes to four, and were immediately ushered into a large 
 room where a round table and two long ones were set for 
 dinner in a manner worthy of the reputation of the house. 
 
 The table-cloths and the serviettes, arranged fanwise in the 
 drinking-glasses, were literally as white as snow. About a 
 dozen knives, forks and spoons were laid for each person, 
 and down the centre of the table glasses of delicious yellow 
 custard and cut glass dishes of glistening red and golden jelly 
 alternated with vases of sweet-smelling flowers. 
 
 Rushton, with Didlum and Grinder and his other friends, 
 sat at the round table near the piano. Hunter took the head 
 of the longer of the other two tables and Crass the foot, 
 while on either side of Crass were Bundy and Slyme, who 
 had acted with him as the committee who had arranged the 
 beano. Payne, the foreman carpenter, occupied the head of 
 the other table. 
 
 The dinner was all that could be desired. 
 
 There was soup, roast beef, boiled mutton, roast turkey, 
 roast goose, ham, cabbage, peas, beans and potatoes, plum 
 
 3H
 
 The Beano 
 
 pudding, custard, jelly, fruit tarts, bread and cheese, and as 
 much beer or lemonade as they liked to pay for, the drinks 
 being an extra. 
 
 Everything was cooked to a turn, and although the diners 
 were somewhat bewildered by the multitude of knives and 
 forks, they all, with one or two exceptions, rose to the occa- 
 sion and enjoyed themselves famously. 
 
 The turkeys, the roast beef and the boiled mutton, the peas 
 and beans and the cabbage, disappeared with astonishing ra- 
 pidity, which was not to be wondered at, for they were all 
 very hungry from the long drive, and nearly everyone made 
 a point of having at least one helping of everything and some 
 of them went in for two lots of soup. 
 
 Crass frequently paused to mop the perspiration from his 
 face and neck with his serviette, an example followed by 
 many others. The beer was of the best, and all the time, amid 
 the rattle of the crockery and the knives and forks, the pro- 
 ceedings were enlivened by many jests and flashes of wit 
 which continuously kept the table in a roar. 
 
 'Chuck us over another dollop of that there "white stuff," 
 Bob,' shouted the Semi-Drunk to Crass, indicating the blanc- 
 mange. 
 
 Crass reached out his hand and took hold of the dish con- 
 taining the ' white stuff,' but instead of passing it to the Semi- 
 Drunk he proceeded to demolish it himself, gobbling it up 
 quickly from the dish with a spoon. 
 
 ' Why, you're eating it all yerself, yer swine,' cried the Semi- 
 Drunk indignantly, as soon as he realised what washappening. 
 
 'That's all right, matey,' replied Crass, affably, as he de- 
 posited the empty dish on the table. ' It don't matter, there's 
 plenty more where it come from. Tell the landlord to bring in 
 another lot.' 
 
 Upon being applied to the landlord, who was assisted in 
 the waiting by his daughter, two other 3 r oung women and two 
 young men, brought in several more lots and so the Semi- 
 Drunk was appeased. 
 
 As for the plum pudding, it was unanimously voted a fair 
 knock out, just like Christmas ; but as Ned Dawson and Bill 
 Bates had drunk all the brandy sauce before the pudding was 
 served, the others all had to have their first helping without 
 any. However, the landlord soon supplied the deficit, so that 
 the incident passed off without unpleasantness. 
 
 315
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 As soon as dinner was over Crass rose to make his state- 
 ment as secretary. Thirty-seven men had paid in five shillings 
 each ; that made nine pounds five shillings. The committee had 
 decided that the three boys, the painter's boy, the carpenter's 
 boy, and the front shop boy, should be allowed to come half- 
 price ; that made it nine pounds twelve and six. In addition to 
 paying the ordinary five shilling subscription, Mr Rushton 
 had given one pound ten towards the expenses (loud cheers), 
 and several other gentlemen had also given something to- 
 wards it: 
 
 Mr Sweater, of 'The Cave,' one pound (applause). 
 
 Mr Grinder, ten shillings in addition to the five shilling 
 subscription (applause). 
 
 Mr Lettum, ten shillings as well as the five shilling sub- 
 scription (applause). 
 
 Mr Didlum, ten shillings in addition to the five shillings 
 (cheers). 
 
 Mr Toonarf, ten shillings as well as the five shilling sub- 
 scription. 
 
 They had also written to some of the manufacturers who 
 supplied the firm with materials, and asked them to give 
 something. Some of 'em had sent half-a-crown, some five 
 shillings, some hadn't answered at all, and two of 'em had 
 written back to say that as things is cut so fine nowadays 
 they didn't get hardly no profit on their stuff, so they couldn't 
 afford to give nothing. But out of all the firms they wrote to 
 they managed to get thirty-two and sixpence altogether, mak- 
 ing a grand total of seventeen pounds. 
 
 As for the expenses, the dinner was two and six a head, 
 and there was forty-five of them there, so that came to five 
 pounds twelve and six. Then there was the hire of the brakes, 
 also two and six a head, five pounds twelve and six, which 
 left a surplus of five pound fifteen to be shared out (applause). 
 This came to three shillings each for the thirty-seven men, 
 and one and fourpence for each of the boys. (Loud and pro- 
 longed cheers). 
 
 Crass, Slyme and Bundy now walked round the tables dis- 
 tributing the share out, which was very welcome to every- 
 body, especially those who had spent nearly all their money 
 during the journey from Mugsborough, and when the ceremony 
 was completed, Philpot moved a hearty vote of thanks to the 
 committee for the manner in which they had carried out their
 
 The Beano 
 
 duties, which was accorded with acclamation. A collection 
 was made for the waiters and the three waitresses, which 
 amounted to eleven shillings, for which the host returned 
 thanks on behalf of the recipients, who were all smiles. 
 
 Then Mr Rushton requested the landlord to serve drinks 
 and cigars all round. Some had cigarettes and the teetotallers 
 had lemonade or ginger beer. Those who did not smoke them- 
 selves took the cigar all the same and gave it to someone else 
 who did. When all were supplied there suddenly arose loud 
 cries of ' Order ! ' and it was seen that Hunter was upon 
 his feet. 
 
 As soon as silence was obtained Misery said that he be- 
 lieved that everyone there present would agree with him 
 when he said that they should not let that occasion pass 
 without drinking the 'ealth of their esteemed and respected 
 employer, Mr Rushton (hear, hear!). Some of them had 
 worked for Mr Rushton hon and hoff for many years, and as 
 far as they was concerned it was not necessary for him (Hunter) 
 to say much in praise of Mr Rushton (hear, hear !). They 
 knew Mr Rushton as well as he did himself, and to know'him 
 was to esteem him (cheers). As for the new hands, although 
 they did not know Mr Rushton as well as the old hands did, 
 he felt sure that they would agree as no one could wish for a 
 better master (loud applause). He had much pleasure in asking 
 them to drink Mr Rushton's 'ealth. 
 
 Everyone rose. 
 
 ' Musical honours, chaps,' shouted Crass, waving his glass 
 and leading off the singing, which was immediately joined in 
 with great enthusiasm by most of the men, the Semi-Drunk 
 conducting the music with a table knife : 
 
 ' For he's a jolly good fellow, 
 For he's a jolly good fellow, 
 For he's a jolly good fell-ell-o 
 And so say all of us. 
 So 'ip, 'ip, 'ip 'ooray ! 
 So 'ip, 'ip, 'ip 'ooray ! 
 
 For 'e's a jolly good fellow, 
 For 'e's a jolly good fellow, 
 For 'e's a jolly good fel-ell-o 
 And so say all of us.' 
 
 317
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 4 Now three cheers ! ' shouted Crass, leading off: 
 
 ' Hip, hip, hip Hooray ! 
 Hip, hip, hip Hooray ! ! 
 Hip, hip, hip Hooray ! ! !' 
 
 Everyone present drank Rushton's health, or at any rate 
 went through the motions of doing so, but during the roar of 
 cheering and singing that preceded it several of the men 
 stood with expressions of contempt or uneasiness upon their 
 faces, silently watching the enthusiasts or looking at the 
 ceiling or on the floor. 
 
 ' I will say this much,' remarked the Semi-Drunk as they 
 all resumed their seats he had had several drinks during 
 dinner, besides those he had taken on the journey ' I will 
 say this much, although I did have a little misunderstanding 
 with Mr 'Unter when I was workin' at the Royal Caif, I must 
 admit that this is the best firm that's ever worked under me.' 
 
 This statement caused a shout of laughter, which, however, 
 died away as Mr Rushton rose to acknowledge the toast of 
 his 'health. He said that he had now been in business for 
 nearly sixteen years and this was, he believed, the eleventh 
 houting he had had the pleasure of attending. During all 
 that time the business had steadily progressed and had 
 increased in volume from year to year, and he 'oped and 
 believed that the progress made in the past would be con- 
 tinued in the future (hear, hear). Of course he realised that 
 the success of the business depended very largely upon the 
 men as well as upon himself. The masters could not do with- 
 out the men, and the men could not live without the masters 
 (hear, hear). It was a matter of division of labour ; the men 
 worked with their 'ands and the masters worked with their 
 brains, and one was no use without the other. He 'oped the 
 good feeling which had hitherto hexisted between himself and 
 his workmen would always continue, and he thanked them 
 for the way in which they had responded to the toast of his 
 'ealth. 
 
 Loud cheers greeted the conclusion of this speech, and 
 then Crass stood up and said that he begged to propose the 
 'ealth of Mr 'Unter (hear, hear). He wasn't going to make a 
 long speech as he wasn't much of a speaker (cries of, ' You're 
 all right,' 'Go on,' etc.), but he felt sure as they would all 
 hagree with him when he said that, next to Mr Rushton,
 
 The Beano 
 
 there wasn't no one the men had more respect and liking for 
 than Mr 'Unter (cheers). A few weeks ago when Mr 'Unter 
 was laid up many of them began to be afraid as they was 
 going to lose 'im. He was sure that all the 'ands was glad to 
 'ave this hoppertunity of congratulating him on his recovery 
 (hear, hear), and of wishing him the best of 'ealth in the 
 future and 'oping as he would be spared to come to a good 
 many more beanos. 
 
 Loud applause greeted the conclusion of Grass's remarks, 
 and once more the meeting burst into song : 
 
 ' For he's a jolly good fellow, 
 For he's a jolly good fellow, 
 For he's a jolly good fellow, 
 And so say all of us.' 
 
 So 'ip, 'ip, 'ip ooray ! 
 So 'ip, 'ip, 'ip ooray ! ' 
 
 When they had done cheering Nimrod rose. His voice 
 trembled a little as he thanked them for their kindness, and 
 said that he 'oped he deserved their good will. He could only 
 say as he was sure as he always tried to be fair and consider- 
 ate to heveryone (cheers). He would now request the land- 
 lord to replenish their glasses (hear, hear). 
 
 As soon as the drinks were served Nimrod again rose and 
 said he wished to propose the 'ealths of their visitors who 
 had so kindly contributed to their expenses Mr Lettum, 
 Mr Didlum, Mr Toonarf and Mr Grinder (cheers). They were 
 very pleased and proud to see them there (hear, hear), and 
 he was sure the men would agree with him when he said 
 that Messrs Lettum, Didlum, Toonarf and Grinder were 
 jolly good fellows. 
 
 To judge from the manner in which they sang the chorus 
 and cheered, it was quite evident that most of the hands did 
 agree. When they left off, Grinder rose to reply on behalf of 
 those included in the toast. He said that it gave them much 
 pleasure to be there and take part in such pleasant proceed- 
 ings, and they were glad to think that they had been hable 
 to'elp to bring it about. It was very gratifying to see the good 
 feeling that existed between Mr Rushton and his workmen, 
 which was as it should be, because masters and men was 
 really fellow workers the masters did the brain work, the 
 
 319
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 men the 'and work. They was both workers, and their 
 interests was the same. He liked to see men doing their best 
 for their master and knowing that their master was doing his 
 best for them, that he was not only a master, but a friend. 
 That was what he (Grinder) liked to see, master and men 
 pulling together, doing their best, and realising that their 
 interests was identical (cheers). If only all masters and men 
 would do this they would find that heverything would go on 
 hall right. There would be more work and less poverty. Let 
 the men do their best for their masters and the masters do 
 their best for their men and they would find that that was 
 the true solution of the social problem, and not that there 
 silly nonsense as was talked by people what went about with 
 red flags (cheers and laughter). Most of those fellers were 
 chaps who was too lazy to work for their livin' (hear, hear). 
 They could take it from him that if hever the Socialists got 
 the upper 'and there would just be a few of thehartful dodgers 
 who would get all the cream, and there would be nothing 
 left but 'ard work for the rest (hear, hear) ! That's wot hall 
 those hagitators was hafter : they wanted them (his hearers), 
 to work and keep 'em in idleness (hear, hear). On behalf of 
 Mr Didlum, Mr Toonarf, Mr Lettum and himself he thanked 
 them for their good wishes, and hoped to be with them on 
 a simler occasion in the future. 
 
 Loud cheers greeted the termination of this speech and 
 when Grinder sat down many jeering glances were sent 
 towards the corner of the table where Owen sat. 
 
 ' What have you got to say to that ? ' they shouted. ' That's 
 up against yer ! ' 
 
 1 He ain't got nothing to say now.' 
 ' Why don't you get up and make a speech ? ' 
 This last appeared a very good idea and there arose shouts 
 of ' Owen ! ', ' Owen ! ', ' Come on 'ere ; get up and make a 
 speech,' ' Be a man ! ' and so on. Several of those who had 
 been loudest in applauding Grinder joined in the demand 
 that Owen should make a speech, because they were certain 
 that the last speaker and the other gentlemen would be able 
 to dispose of all his arguments. But Owen made no response 
 except to laugh, so presently Crass tied a white handkerchief 
 on a cane walking stick that belonged to Mr Didlum, and 
 stuck it, amid roars of laughter, in the vase of flowers that 
 stood on the end of the table where Owen was sitting. 
 
 320
 
 ___ The Beano 
 
 When the noise had in some measure ceased, Grinder again 
 rose. 'When I made those few remarks,' he said, 'I didn't 
 know as there was any Socialists 'ere. I could tell from the 
 look of you that most of you had more sense. At the same time 
 I'm rather glad I said what I did, because it just shows you 
 what sort of chaps these Socialists are. They're pretty hartful ; 
 they know when to talk and when to keep their mouths 
 shut. What they like is to get 'old of a few ignorant workin' 
 men in a workshop or a public-'ouse, and then they can talk 
 by the mile reg'ler shop lawyers, you know wot I mean 
 " I'm right and everybody else is wrong " (laughter). But when 
 they finds theirselves in the company of edicated people wot 
 knows a little more nor what they does theirselves, and who 
 isn't likely to be misled by a lot of claptrap, why then, mum's 
 the word. So next time you hears any of these shop lawyers' 
 arguments, you'll know how much it's worth.' 
 
 Most of the men were delighted with this speech, which 
 was received with much laughing and knocking on the tables. 
 They remarked to each other that Grinder was a smart man ; 
 he'd got the Socialists weighed up just about right, to an 
 ounce. 
 
 Then it was seen that Owen was on his feet facing Grinder, 
 and a sudden silence fell. 
 
 1 It may or may not be true, that Socialists always know 
 when to speak and when to keep silent,' he said, ' but the 
 present occasion hardly seemed a suitable one to discuss such 
 subjects. We are here to-day as friends and want to forget 
 our differences and enjoy ourselves for a few hours. But after 
 what Mr Grinder has said I am quite ready to reply to him 
 to the best of my ability. 
 
 'The fact that I am a Socialist and that I am here to-day 
 as one of Mr Rushton's employees should be an answer to 
 the charge that Socialists are too lazy to work for their living. 
 And as to taking advantage of the ignorance and simplicity 
 of working men and trying to mislead them with nonsensical 
 claptrap, it would have been more to the point if Mr Grinder 
 had taken some particular socialist doctrine and had proved 
 it to be untrue or misleading, instead of adopting the method 
 of making vague general charges that he cannot prove. Mr 
 Grinder tells us that the employers work with their brains and 
 the men with their hands. If it is true that no brains are re- 
 quired to do manual labour, why put idiots into imbecile 
 x 21
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 asylums ? Why not let them do some of the hand work for 
 which no brains are required ? As they are idiots they would 
 probably be willing to work for even less than the ideal " living 
 wage". If Mr Grinder had ever tried he would know that 
 manual workers have to concentrate their minds and their 
 attention on their work or they would not be able to do it at 
 all. Neither can I agree with what he says about the masters 
 being the " friends " of their workmen, because he knows as 
 well as we do that no matter how good or benevolent an em- 
 ployer may be, no matter how much he might desire to give 
 his men better conditions, it is impossible for him to do so, 
 because he has to compete against other employers who would 
 not adopt his methods. It is the bad employer, the sweating, 
 slave-driving employer, who sets the pace for the others. If 
 any employer to-day were to resolve to pay his workmen such 
 wages as he would be able to live upon in comfort himself, 
 and if he did not require them to do more work every day than he 
 himself would like to perform, he would be bankrupt in a month. 
 
 ' Mr Grinder tells us that the interests of masters and men 
 are identical, but if an employer has a contract it is to his 
 interest to get the work done quickly for the sake of his profits, 
 but the sooner the job is done, so much the sooner will the 
 men be out of employment. How can it be true then 
 that their interests are identical ? 
 
 'Again, let us suppose that an employer is, say, thirty 
 years of age when he commences business, and that he carries 
 it on for twenty years, and employs forty men more or less 
 regularly during that period, and that their average age is also 
 thirty years. At the end of the twenty years it usually happens 
 that the employer has made enough money to enable him to 
 live for the remainder of his life in ease and comfort. But what 
 about the workmen? All through those twenty years they 
 have earned but a bare living wage, and have had to endure 
 such privations that those who are not already dead are broken 
 in health. 
 
 4 In the case of the employer there had been twenty years 
 of steady progrees towards ease and leisure and independence. 
 In the case of the majority of the men there were twenty years 
 of deterioration, twenty years of steady, continuous sinking 
 towards the scrap heap, the workhouse, and premature 
 death. How can it be true to say that their interests were 
 identical with those of their employer ? 
 
 322
 
 The Beano 
 
 1 Such talk as that is not likely to deceive any but children 
 or fools. We are not children, but it is very evident that Mr 
 Grinder thinks we are fools. 
 
 4 At the same time it is quite true that the real interests of 
 employers and workmen are the same, but not in the sense 
 that Mr Grinder would have us believe. Under the existing 
 system of society only very few people, no matter how wealthy 
 they are, can be absolutely certain that they or their children 
 will not eventually come to want, and even those who think 
 they are secure themselves find their happiness diminished 
 by the knowledge of the poverty and misery that surrounds 
 them on every side. 
 
 ' In that sense only is it true that the interests of masters 
 and men are identical, for it is to the true interest of all, both 
 ' rich and poor, to help to destroy a system that inflicts suffer- 
 ing upon the many and allows true happiness to none.' 
 
 Here Crass jumped up and interrupted, shouting out that 
 they hadn't come there to listen to a lot of speechmaking, a 
 remark that was greeted with unbounded applause by most 
 of those present. Loud cries of ' Hear, hear ! ' resounded 
 through the room, and the Semi-Drunk suggested that some- 
 one should sing a song. 
 
 The men who had clamoured for a speech from Owen said 
 nothing, and Mr Grinder seemed very glad of the interruption. 
 
 The Semi-Drunk's suggestion that someone should sing a 
 song was received with unqualified approbation by everybody. 
 The landlord's daughter sat down at the piano, and the Semi- 
 Drunk, taking his place at the side of the instrument and 
 facing the audience, sang ' Down at the old Bull and Bush ' 
 with appropriate gestures, the chorus being rendered by the 
 full strength of the company, including Misery, who by this 
 time was slightly drunk with gin and ginger beer. 
 
 Crass next approached the 'piano and gave them ' Work 
 Boys Work ! ', at the end of which three cheers were given 
 for Tariff Reform and ' Plenty of Work.' Then Philpot was 
 called upon to oblige, and received a great ovation when he 
 stood up. Everybody liked Philpot, ' 'E never did no 'arm to 
 nobody,' and was always ready to do a mate a good turn, and 
 shouts of 'good old Joe !' were enthusiastically raised as he 
 crossed over to the piano, and, in response to numerous 
 requests for 'the old song,' gave them 'Won't you buy my 
 pretty Flowers ? '. 
 
 323
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 Dick Wantley, ' the man behind the moat,' sang ' Put me 
 among the Girls ' with many suggestive grimaces, after which 
 Payne gave them ' I'm the Marquis of Camberwell Green.' 
 He was ghastly pale and very nervous, but went through 
 a lot of galvanic motions and gestures which were part of the 
 business. During the song the audience maintained a frigid 
 silence, which so disconcerted Pa}'ne that he stopped half- 
 way and said he couldn't remember any more. But to atone 
 for this failure he sang another called ' We all must die like 
 the Fire in the Grate,' which annoyed the audience so much, 
 that it was loudly suggested that if he couldn't do better than 
 that the sooner he died the better. 
 
 This was followed by a Tory ballad with a chorus that all 
 the men sang with great fervour : 
 
 ' His clothes may be ragged, his 'and may be soiled, 
 But where's the disgrace if for bread he has toiled ! 
 His 'art's in the right place, deny it who can 
 The back bone of England's the honest Working Man.' 
 
 After the concert the men strolled into the garden and some 
 played skittles, some played quoits, some sat on the grass and 
 watched the others, and some amused themselves drinking 
 beer and playing shove ha'penny in the bar parlour. The 
 time passed quickly enough and by half-past seven the brakes 
 were loaded up again and a start made for the return journey. 
 
 They called at all the taverns on the road, and by the time 
 they reached the ' Blue Lion ' half of them were three sheets 
 in the wind and five or six were very drunk, including the 
 driver of Grass's brake and the man with the coach horn. 
 The latter was so helpless that they had to let him lie down 
 amongst their feet, where he fell fast asleep, while the others 
 amused themselves by blowing weird sounds out of the horn. 
 
 There was an automatic penny-in-the-slot piano at the 
 1 Blue Lion,' and as this was the last house on the road they 
 made a rather long stay there, playing hooks and rings 
 and shove ha'penny, drinking, singing, dancing and finally 
 quarrelling. 
 
 Several of them seemed to fall foul of Newman. They 
 made offensive remarks in his hearing, knocked his lemonade 
 over, and a little later someone else collided violently with 
 him just as he was in the act of drinking. Unfortunately 
 most of the rowdy ones were his fellow-passengers in Grass's 
 
 324
 
 The Beano 
 
 brake, and there was not much chance of getting a seat in 
 either of the other carriages, which were overcrowded alreadj r . 
 Finally Dick Wantley shouted out that he was going to go 
 for the dirty tyke who had offered to work underprice last 
 winter. It was his fault they were all working for sixpence 
 half-penny, and he was going to wipe the floor with him. 
 Some of his friends eagerly offered to assist but others inter- 
 posed, and for a time it looked as if there was going to be 
 a free fight, the aggressors struggling hard to get at their in- 
 offensive victim. Eventually, however, Newman found a seat 
 in Misery's brake, squatting on the floor with his back to the 
 horses, thankful enough to be out of reach of the drunken 
 savages, who were now roaring out ribald songs and startling 
 the countryside as they drove along with unearthly blasts on 
 the coach horn. 
 
 Meantime, although none of them seemed to notice it, the 
 brake was travelling at a furious rate, and swa3'ing about 
 from side to side. It should have been the last of the pro- 
 cession but things had got a bit mixed at the ' Blue Lion ' 
 and instead of bringing up the rear it had taken second 
 place, just behind the small vehicle containing Rushton and 
 his friends. 
 
 Crass several times reminded them that the other carriage 
 was so near that Rushton must be able to hear every word 
 that was said, and these repeated admonitions at length 
 enraged the Semi-Drunk, who shouted out that they didn't 
 care if he could hear. To hell with him ! 
 
 4 Damn Rushton, and you too ! ' cried Bill Bates, addressing 
 Crass. ' You're only a dirty toe-rag ! That's all you are ! That's 
 the only reason you gets put in charge of jobs, 'cos you're a 
 good nigger driver ! You're a bloody sight worse than Rushton 
 or Misery either ! ' 
 
 ' Knock 'im orf into the road,' suggested Bundy, 
 
 Everybody seemed to think this was a very good idea, 
 but when the Semi-Drunk attempted to rise for the purpose 
 of carrying it out he was thrown down by a sudden lurch of 
 the carriage on top of the prostrate figure of the owner of the 
 coach horn, and by the time he had got right end up he had 
 forgotten all about the plan of getting rid of Crass. 
 
 Meanwhile Rushton and the other occupants of the little 
 wagonette had been for some time shouting to them to 
 moderate the pace of their horses, but as the driver of Grass's 
 
 325
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 brake was too drunk to understand what they said, he took 
 no notice, and they had no alternative but to increase their 
 own speed to avoid being run down. The drunken driver now 
 began to imagine that they were trying to race him, and 
 became fired with the determination to pass them. It was a 
 very narrow road, but there was just about room to pass, 
 and he had sufficient confidence in his own skill with the 
 ribands to believe that he could do it . 
 
 The terrified gesticulations and the shouts of Rushton's 
 party only served to infuriate him. He stood up on the foot 
 board and lashed the horses till they almost flew over the 
 ground, while the brake swayed and skidded appallingly. 
 
 In front, the horses of Rushton's conveyance were also 
 galloping at top speed, the vehicle bounding and reeling from 
 one side of the road to the other, whilst its occupants, with 
 panic-stricken faces, sat clinging to their seats and to each 
 other, looking back with terror at their pursuers, who were 
 encouraging the drunken driver and urging on the horses 
 with curses and yells. 
 
 However, notwithstanding his frantic efforts, the driver 
 was unable to overtake the smaller vehicle, and when the 
 hill to Windley was reached he reluctantly abandoned the 
 race, while Rush ton and his friends, without waiting to say 
 goodnight, drove off towards Mugsborough as fast as they 
 could. 
 
 Grass's brake halted at the summit for the arrival of the 
 others, and then amid shouts of ' good night ! ' and * don't 
 forget six o'clock Monday morning ' the bean-feasters dis- 
 persed and the great event of the year was over. 
 
 326
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 THE GREAT ORATION 
 
 ON the Monday morning after the beano a man named Jim 
 Smith was painting an upper room in a house where several 
 of Rushton's men were working. He was an odd looking 
 individual with a big body and short legs, and the other 
 men used to say .there was something wrong with the way 
 that 'Little Jim' was made. About ten minutes to eight, 
 while he was waiting for the coddy to shout 'Yo ho,' the 
 signal for breakfast time, he began to hum some of the tunes 
 that had been sung at the beano, for having rubbed down 
 and stopped all the woodwork and painted the window since 
 six o'clock, he decided not to make a start on the door till 
 after breakfast. He only earned 6-gd. an hour, and as he said to 
 himself, it was a good two hours' work and if he hadn't 
 earned a bob he hadn't earned nothing. Anj'how he wasn't 
 going to do no more before breakfast. The tune of ' For he's 
 a jolly good fellow ' kept running through his head, he thrust 
 his hands deep down in his trousers pockets and began to 
 polka round the room, singing softly : 
 
 ' I won't do no more before breakfast ! 
 I won't do no more before breakfast ! 
 I won't do no more before breakfast ! 
 So 'ip 'ip 'ip 'ooray ! 
 
 So 'ip 'ip 'ip 'ooray ! So 'ip 'ip 'ip 'ooray ! 
 I won't do no more before breakfast ! 
 etc.' 
 
 ' No, and you won't do but very little after breakfast, 
 'ere ! ' shouted Hunter, suddenly entering the room. 
 
 1 I've bin a watchin' of you through the crack of the door 
 for the larst 'arf hour and you've not done a dam stroke all 
 the time. Make out yer time sheet and go to the office at nine 
 
 3 2 7
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 o'clock and git yer money. We can't afford to pay you for 
 playing the fool.' 
 
 Leaving the man dumbfounded and without waiting for a 
 reply, Misery went downstairs, and after bellowing at the 
 foreman for the lack of discipline on the job, he rode away, 
 having come in so stealthily that none of the men knew of 
 his arrival until they heard him shouting at Smith, who did 
 not wait to have his breakfast but went off at once. When he 
 had gone his mates agreed that it served him right ; he ought 
 to have had more sense. Most of them realised that this was 
 the beginning of another slaughter; it would only be a matter 
 of a week or two before all the jobs were finished up. They 
 were working at a large house called 'The Refuge,' nick- 
 named ' The Hospital ' by the men because as the other jobs 
 were completed they were all sent on here, so that there 
 were quite a crowd of them at work. All the inside was 
 finished except the kitchen and scullery, and everyone was 
 busy on the outside. Poor old Joe Philpot, whose rheumatism 
 had been very bad lately, was doing a very rough job, 
 painting the gables from a long ladder. But though there 
 were plenty of younger men more suitable he did not like 
 to complain for fear Crass or Misery should think he was 
 not up to his work. At dinner time all the old hands 
 assembled in the kitchen, including Crass, Easton, Harlow, 
 Bundy and Dick Wantley, who still sat on a pail behind his 
 usual moat. Philpot and Harlow were absent and everybody 
 wondered what had become of them. Several times during 
 the morning they had been seen whispering together and 
 comparing scraps of paper, and various theories were put 
 forward to account for their disappearance. 
 
 'Looks to me as if they'll stand a very good chance of 
 gettin' drowned if they've gone very far,' remarked Easton, 
 for the weather had been threatening all the morning and 
 within the last few minutes the sky had become so dark that 
 Crass lit the gas so that they could see the way to their 
 mouths. The wind grew more boisterous every moment ; the 
 darkness increased ; and presently a torrential downfall of 
 rain beat fiercely against the windows, and poured down the 
 glass. The men glanced gloomily at each other. No more 
 work could be done outside that day, and there was nothing 
 left to do inside. As they were all paid by the hour this 
 meant the loss of half a day's pay. 
 
 328
 
 The Great Oration 
 
 4 If it keeps on like this we won't be able to go home 
 neither, 1 remarked Easton. 
 
 4 Well, we're all right 'ere, ain't we ? ' said the man behind 
 the moat. ' There's a nice fire and plenty of heasy-chairs. Wot 
 the 'ell more do you want ? ' 
 
 *Yes,' remarked another philosopher, 4 if we only had a 
 shove ha'penny table or a ring board I reckon we should be 
 able to enjoy ourselves all right.' 
 
 At this moment the two truants returned, looking very 
 important. Philpot was armed with a hammer, and carrying 
 a pair of steps, while Harlow bore a large piece of wall- 
 paper which they proceeded to tack on the wall, much to the 
 amusement of the others, who read the following announce- 
 ment, written in charcoal : 
 
 IMPERIAL BANKQUET HALL 
 
 4 THE REFUGE ' 
 
 On Thursday at 12.30 Prompt 
 
 PROFESSOR OWEN 
 
 Will Deliver a 
 
 ORATION 
 
 Entitled 
 
 THE GREAT SECRET, OR How TO LIVE 
 WITHOUT WORK 
 
 THE REV. JOE PHILPQT 
 
 (Late absconding secretary of the Light Refresh- 
 ment Fund) 
 
 Will take the chair and anything else he can lay 
 his hands on. 
 
 At The End of The Lecture 
 A MEETING WILL BE ARRANGED 
 
 And carried out according to The Marquis of 
 Queensberry's Rules. 
 
 A collection will be took up in aid of the cost 
 of printing. 
 
 329
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 When they had fixed the poster on the wall Philpot stood 
 the steps in the corner of the room with the back part facing 
 outwards to form a pulpit, and then, everything being ready 
 for the lecturer, the two sat down in their accustomed places 
 and began to eat their dinners, Harlow remarking that they 
 would have to buck up or they would be too late for the meet- 
 ing ; and the rest of the crowd began to discuss the poster. 
 
 'Well, 'e's the finest speaker I ever 'card,' said the man on 
 the pail, with enthusiam. 'I wouldn't miss this 'ere lecture 
 for anything. I got 'ere about two hours before the doors was 
 opened so as to be sure to get a seat.' 
 
 ' I've 'card a 'ell of a lot about Socialism,' said Crass, with 
 a sneer, ' but up to now I've never met nobody wot could 
 tell you plainly exactly wot it is. : 
 
 ' Yes, that's what I should like to know, too,' said Easton. 
 
 4 Socialism means " what's yours is mine, and what's mine's 
 me own,'" observed Bundy, and during the laughter that 
 greeted this definition Slyme was heard to say that Socialism 
 meant Materialism, Atheism and Free Love, and if it were 
 ever to come about it would degrade men and women to the 
 level of brute beasts. Harlow said Socialism was a very fine 
 idea, but he was afraid it would never come off. Sawkins said 
 that Socialism was a lot of bloody rot, and Crass expressed 
 the opinion, which he had culled from the delectable columns 
 of the 'Obscurer,' that it meant robbing the industrious for 
 the benefit of the idle and thriftless. 
 
 Philpot had by this time finished his bread and cheese, and, 
 crossing over to the corner of the room, ascended the pulpit, 
 being immediately greeted with a tremendous outburst of 
 hooting, howling and booing, which he smilingly acknowledged 
 by removing his cap from his bald head, winking his goggle 
 eyes, and bowing repeatedly. When the storm of shrieks, 
 yells, groans and catcalls had in some degree subsided, he 
 addressed the meeting as follows : 
 
 4 Gentlemen, first of hall I beg to thank you for the magnifi- 
 cent reception you 'ave given me, and I shall try to deserve 
 your good opinion by shutting my mouth as soon as possible. 
 
 4 Putting hall jokes aside, I think we're hall agreed about 
 one thing, and that is, that there's plenty of room for improve- 
 ment in things in general (hear, hear). As our lecturer, Pro- 
 fessor Owen, pointed hout in one of 'is lectures, and as most 
 of you 'ave read in the newspapers, although trade was never 
 
 330
 
 The Great Oration 
 
 so good as now there's more misery and poverty than there 
 ever "as been, and more of small shopkeepers goin' hup the 
 spout. Now, some people tells us as Free Trade means plenty 
 of cheap food. Well, we've got the one but not the other. Then 
 there's hothers as tells us as this " Friscal Policy " is wot we 
 want ('hear, hear,' from Crass and several others). And then 
 there's another lot as ses that Socialism is the only 'ope for 
 the poor. Well, we know pretty well all about Free Trade and 
 the Friscal Policy, but most of us don't know exactly what 
 Socialism means ; and I say as its the dooty of hevery man to 
 try and find hout which is the right thing to vote for, and 
 then to do wot 'e can to 'elp to bring it about. And that's the 
 reason we've gorn to the enormous expense of hengaging 
 Professor Owen to come 'ere this afternoon and tell us exactly 
 what Socialism is. So now I will call upon 'im to address you.' 
 
 Philpot was loudly applauded as he descended from the 
 pulpit, and in response to clamourous demands Owen mount" 
 ed the steps, beneath which the chairman sat on a carpenter's 
 stool, with an upturned pail for a table, a plumber's hammer 
 in his hand, and a chipped jam jar of tea by his side. 
 
 'Mr Chairman and Gentlemen,' said Owen, 'it is childish 
 to imagine that any measures of Tariff Reform or Political 
 Reform, or abolishing the House of Lords, or disestablishing 
 the Church, or miserable Old Age Pensions, or a contemptible 
 tax on land, can deal with the abject condition of millions of 
 Englishmen, their wives and children. You may be deceived 
 into thinking that such measures as those are great things. 
 You may fight for them and vote for them but after you have 
 got them you will find that they will make no appreciable im- 
 provement in your condition. You will still have to slave and 
 drudge to gain a bare sufficiency of the necessaries of life. 
 You will still have to eat the same kind of food and wear the 
 same kind of clothes and boots as now. Your masters will 
 still have you in their power to insult you and sweat you and 
 drive you. Such measures are not remedies, but delusions to 
 distract your attention from the only real solution, which is to 
 be found only in the Public Ownership of the Machinery, and 
 the National Organization of Industry for the production and 
 distribution of the necessaries of life, not for the profit of a 
 few, but for the benefit of all ! 
 
 'That is the next great change, not merely desirable, but 
 imperatively necessary and inevitable ! That js Socialism ! ' 
 
 331
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 ' Seems to me as if 'e's swallered a bloody dictionary,' re- 
 marked Dick Wantley. 
 
 ' Horder, border ! ' shouted the chairman, banging the pail 
 with the plumber's hammer. 
 
 4 Socialism,' continued Owen, ' is not a wild dream of Super- 
 human Unselfishness. No one will be asked to sacrifice him- 
 self for the benefit of others or to love his neighbours better 
 than himself, as is the case under the present system, which 
 demands that the majority shall be content to labour and live 
 in wretchedness for the benefit of a few. 
 
 ' Under existing circumstances the community is exposed to 
 the danger of being invaded and robbed and massacred by 
 some foreign power. Therefore the community has organized 
 and owns and controls an Army and Navy to protect it from 
 that danger. Under existing circumstances the community is 
 menaced by another equally great danger: the people are men- 
 tally and physically degenerating from lack of proper food and 
 clothing. Socialists say that the community should undertake 
 and organize the business of producing and distributing all 
 these things ; that the State should be the only employer of 
 labour and should own all the factories, mills, mines, farms, 
 railways, and fishing fleets. 
 
 ' Socialists say that the community should undertake the 
 business of providing suitable dwellings for all its members, 
 that the State should be the only landlord and that all 
 the land and all the houses should belong to the whole 
 people. 
 
 'The hundreds of thousands of pounds that are yearly wasted 
 in well meant but useless charity accomplish no lasting good, 
 because while charity deals with the symptoms it ignores the 
 disease, which is the private ownership of the means of 
 producing the necessaries of life, and the restriction of pro- 
 duction by a few selfish individuals for their own profit. And 
 for that disease there is no other remedy than the public 
 ownership and cultivation of the land ; the public owner- 
 ship of the mines, railways, canals, ships, factories, and all 
 other means of production ; and the establishment of an In- 
 dustrial Civil Service, a National Army of Industry, for the 
 purpose of producing the necessaries, comforts and refine- 
 ments of life in all the abundance which has been made 
 possible by science and machinery for the use and benefit ot 
 tjie whole of the people' 
 
 33 2
 
 The Great Oratiort 
 
 ' Yes ; and where's the money to come from for all this ? ' 
 shouted Crass, fiercely. 
 
 ' Hear, hear,' cried the man behind the moat. 
 
 'There's no money difficulty about it,' replied Owen. ' We 
 can easily find all the money we shall need.' 
 
 'Of course,' said Slyme, 'there's all the money in the Post 
 Office Savings Bank. The Socialists could steal that for a 
 start. And as for the mines and land and factories, they can 
 all be took from the owners by force.' 
 
 ' There will be no need for force and no need to steal any- 
 thing from anybody.' 
 
 'And there's another thing I objects to,' said Crass, 'and 
 that's all this 'ere talk about hignorance. Wot about all the 
 money wots spent every year for eddication ! ' 
 
 ' You should rather say, What about all the money that's 
 wasted every year on education ! What can be more brutal 
 or senseless than trying to " educate " a poor little hungry, ill- 
 clad child ? The majority of us forget in a year or two all that 
 we learnt at school because the conditions of our lives are 
 such as to destroy all inclination for culture or refinement. 
 We must see that the children are properly clothed and fed 
 and that they are not made to get up in the middle of the 
 night to go to work for several hours before they go to school. 
 We must make it illegal for any greedy, heartless profit- 
 hunter to hire their labour for several hours in the evening 
 after school, or all day until nearly midnight on Saturday. 
 We must first see that our children are fed and clothed and 
 cared for before we can expect a proper return for the money 
 that we spend on education.' 
 
 ' I don't mind admitting that this 'ere scheme of national 
 ownership and industries is all right if it could only be done,' 
 said Harlow, 'but at present all the land, railways and fac- 
 tories belongs to private capitalists ; they can't be bought 
 without money, and you say you ain't goin' to take 'em away 
 by force, so I should like to know how the bloody 'ell you are 
 goin' to get 'em ! ' 
 
 ' We certainly don't propose to buy them with money, for 
 the simple reason that there is not sufficient money in exist- 
 ence to pay for them. The people who own all these things 
 now never really paid for them with money, they obtained 
 possession of them by means of the " money trick" which I 
 explained some time ago.' 
 
 333
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 'They obtained possession of them by usin' their brains,' 
 said Crass. 
 
 4 Exactly,' replied the lecturer. ' They tell us themselves that 
 that is how they got them away from us ; they call their profits 
 the "wages of intelligence". Whilst we have been working 
 they have been using their intelligence in order to obtain 
 possession of the things we have created. The time has now 
 arrived for us to use our intelligence in order to get back the 
 things they have robbed us of.' 
 
 ' Oh, then you do mean to rob them after all,' cried Slyme, 
 triumphantly. 
 
 4 When a thief is caught having in his possession the pro- 
 perty of others it is not robbery to take the things away from 
 him and to restore them to their rightful owners,' retorted 
 Owen. 
 
 4 1 can't allow this 'ere disorder to go on no longer,' shouted 
 Philpot, banging the table with the plumber's hammer as 
 several men began talking at the same time. 'There will be 
 plenty of tuneropperty for questions and opposition at the 
 hend of the horation, when the pulpit will be throwed open 
 to anyone as likes to debate the question. I now calls upon 
 the professor to proceed with the horation, and anyone wot 
 interrupts will get a lick under the ear 'ole with this '- 
 waving the hammer 4 and the body will be chucked out 
 of the bloody winder.' 
 
 Loud cheers greeted this announcement, because as it was 
 still raining heavily the audience thought they might as well 
 pass the time in listening to Owen as in any other way. 
 
 4 A large part of the land may be got back in the same way 
 as it was taken from us. The ancestors of the present holders 
 obtained possession of it by simply passing Acts of Enclosure ; 
 the nation should regain possession of those lands by pass- 
 ing Ads of Resumption. And with regard to the other land, 
 the present holders should be allowed to retain possession of 
 it during their lives and then it should revert to the State, to 
 be used for the benefit of all. Britain should belong to the 
 British people, not to a few selfish individuals. As for the 
 railways, they have already been nationalised in some other 
 countries, and what other countries can do we can do also. 
 As for the method by which we can obtain possession of them, 
 the difficulty is not to discover a method, but rather to decide 
 which of many methods we shall adopt. One method would 
 
 334
 
 The Great Oration 
 
 be to pass an act declaring that as it was contrary to the 
 public interest that they should be owned by private individ- 
 uals, the railways would henceforth be the property of the 
 nation. All railway servants, managers and officials would 
 continue in their employment, the only difference being that 
 they would now be in the employ of the State. As to the 
 shareholders' ' 
 
 'They could all be knocked on the 'ead, I suppose,' inter- 
 rupted Crass. 
 
 'Or go to the workhouse,' said Slyme. 
 
 'Or to 'ell,' suggested the man behind the moat. 
 
 ' the State would continue to pay to the shareholders 
 
 the same dividends they had received on an average for, say, 
 the previous three years. These payments would be continued 
 to the present shareholders for life, or the payments might be 
 limited to a stated number of years and the shares would be 
 made non-transferable. As for the factories, shops, and other 
 means of production and distribution, the State must adopt 
 the same methods of doing business as the present owners. 
 I mean that even as the big Trusts and Companies are crush- 
 ing by competition the individual workers and small traders, 
 so the State should crush the trusts by competition. It is 
 surely justifiable for the State to do for the benefit of the whole 
 people that which the capitalists are already doing for the 
 profit of a few shareholders. The first step in this direction 
 will be the establishment of Retail Stores for the purpose ol 
 supplying all national and municipal employees with the 
 necessaries of life at the lowest possible prices. At first the 
 Administration will purchase these things from the private 
 manufacturers in such large quantities that it will be able to 
 obtain them at the" very cheapest rate, and as there will be no 
 heavy rents to pay for showy shops and no advertising ex- 
 penses, and as the object of the Administration will be not to 
 make profit but to supply its workmen and officials with goods 
 at the lowest price, they will be able to sell them much cheaper 
 than the profit-making private stores. 
 
 'The National Service Retail Stores will be for the benefit 
 of those in the public service only ; and gold, silver or copper 
 money will not be accepted in payment for the things sold. 
 At first, all public servants will continue to be paid in metal 
 money, but those who desire it will be paid all or part of their 
 wages in paper money of the same nominal value, which will 
 
 335
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 be accepted in payment for their purchases at the National 
 Stores, and at the National Hotels, Restaurants and other 
 places which will be established for the convenience of those 
 in the State service. The money will resemble bank-notes. 
 
 'As the National Service Stores will sell practically every- 
 thing that could be obtained elsewhere, and as twenty shillings 
 in paper money will be able to purchase much more at the 
 stores than twenty shillings of metal money would purchase 
 anywhere else, it will not be long before nearly all public 
 servants will prefer to be paid in paper money. As far as pay- 
 ing the salaries and wages of most of its officials and workmen 
 is concerned, the Administration will not then have any need 
 of metal money. But it will require metal money to pay the 
 private manufacturers who supply the goods sold in the 
 National Stores. But all these things are made by labour, so 
 in order to avoid having to pay metal money for them the 
 State will now commence to employ productive labour. All 
 the public land suitable for the purpose will be put into culti- 
 vation and State factories will be established for manufacturing 
 food, boots, clothing, furniture and all other necessaries and 
 comforts of life. All those who are out of employment and 
 willing to work will be given employment on these farms and 
 in these factories. In order that the men employed shall not 
 have to work unpleasantly hard, and that their hours of labour 
 may be as short as possible at first, say eight hours per day 
 and also to make sure that the greatest possible quantity of 
 everything shall be produced, these factories and farms will 
 be equipped with the most up-to-date and efficient labour- 
 saving machinery. 
 
 ' The quantities of goods we shall be able to produce will be 
 so enormous that we shall be able to pay our workers very 
 high wages in paper money and we shall be able to sell 
 our produce so cheaply that all public servants will be able 
 to enjoy abundance of everything. 
 
 ' When the workers who are being exploited and sweated 
 by the private capitalists realise the position they will come 
 and ask to be allowed to work for the State, also for paper 
 money. That will mean that the State Army of Production 
 Workers will be continually increasing in numbers. More 
 State factories will be built, more land will be put into 
 cultivation. Men will be given employment making bricks, 
 woodwork, paints, glass, wall-papers and all kinds of building 
 
 336
 
 The Great Oration 
 
 materials ; and others will be set to work building, on State 
 land, beautiful houses, which will be let to those employed in 
 the service of the State. The rent will be paid with paper 
 money. 
 
 1 State fishing fleets will be established, and the quantities of 
 commodities of all kinds produced will be so great that the State 
 employees and officials will not be able to use them all. With 
 their paper money they will be able to buy enough and more 
 than enough to satisfy all their needs abundantly, but there 
 will still be a great and continuously increasing surplus stock 
 in the possession of the State. 
 
 'The Socialist Administration will now acquire or build 
 fleets of steam trading vessels, which will of course be 
 manned and officered by State employees the same as the 
 Royal Navy is now ; these fleets of National trading vessels 
 will carry the surplus stocks I have mentioned to foreign 
 countries, and will there sell or exchange them for some of 
 the products of those countries, things that we do not produce 
 ourselves. These things will be brought to England and sold 
 at the National Service Stores, at the lowest possible price, 
 for paper money, to those in the service of the State. This of 
 course will only have the effect of introducing greater variety 
 into the stocks, it will not diminish the surplus ; and as 
 there would be no sense in continuing to produce more of 
 these things than necessary, it would then be the duty of the 
 Administration to curtail or restrict the production of the 
 necessaries of life. This could be done by reducing the hours 
 of the workers without reducing their wages, so as to enable 
 them to continue to purchase as much as before. 
 
 'Another way of preventing over-production of mere 
 necessaries and comforts will be to employ a larger number 
 of workers producing the refinements and pleasures of life, 
 more artistic houses, furniture, pictures, musical instruments 
 and so forth. 
 
 ' In the centre of every district a large Institute or pleasure 
 house could be erected, containing a magnificently appointed 
 and decorated Theatre, Concert Hall, Lecture Hall, Gymna- 
 sium, Billiard Rooms, Reading Rooms, Refreshment Rooms, 
 and so on. A detachment of the Industrial Army would be 
 employed as actors, artists, musicians, singers and entertainers. 
 In fact everyone that could be spared from the most im- 
 portant work of all, that of producing the necessaries of life, 
 v 337
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 would be employed in creating pleasure, culture, and educa- 
 tion. All these people, like the other branches of the public 
 service, would be paid with paper money, and with it all of 
 them would be able to purchase abundance of all those 
 things which constitute civilisation. 
 
 4 Meanwhile, as a result of all this, the private employers 
 and capitalists, finding that no one would come and work for 
 them to be driven and bullied and sweated for a miserable 
 trifle of metal money, will protest against what they call the 
 unfair competition of State industry, and some of them may 
 threaten to leave the country and take their capital with them. 
 As most of these persons are too lazy to work, and as 
 we shall not need their money, we shall be very glad to see 
 them go. But with regard to their real capital, their factories, 
 farms, mines or machinery, that will be a different matter. 
 To allow these things to remain idle and unproductive, would 
 constitute an injury to the community. So a law will be 
 passed, declaring that all land not cultivated by the owner, 
 or any factory shut down for more than a specified time, 
 will be taken possession of by the State and worked for 
 the benefit of the community. Fair compensation will be 
 paid in paper money to the former owners, who will be 
 granted an income or pension of so much a year either for 
 life or for a stated period according to circumstances and the 
 ages of the persons concerned. 
 
 ' As for the private traders, the wholesale and retail dealers 
 in the things produced by labour, they will be forced by the 
 State competition to close down their shops and warehouses, 
 first, because they will not be able to replenish their stocks, and 
 secondly because even if they were able to do so they would 
 not be able to sell them. This will throw out of work a great 
 host of people who are at present engaged in useless occupa- 
 tions, such as the managers and assistants in the shops of 
 which there are now half-a-dozen of the same sort in a single 
 street, and the thousands of men and women who are slaving 
 away their lives producing advertisements. These people 
 are in most cases working for such a miserable pittance of 
 metal money that they are unable to procure sufficient of the 
 necessaries of life to secure them from starvation. 
 
 4 The masons, carpenters, painters, glaziers and all the 
 others engaged in maintaining these unnecessary stores and 
 shops will all be thrown out of employment, but all those 
 
 338
 
 The Great Oration 
 
 who are willing to work will be welcomed by the State and 
 will be at once employed in producing or distributing the 
 necessaries and comforts of life. They will have to work 
 fewer hours than before. They will not have to work so 
 hard for there will be no need to drive or bully, because 
 there will be plenty of people to do the work, and most of it 
 will be done by machinery, and with their paper money they 
 will be able to buy abundance of the things they help to 
 produce. The shops and stores where these people were 
 formerly employed will be acquired by the State, which will 
 pay the former owners fair compensation in the same manner 
 as to the factory owners. Some of the buildings will be 
 utilised by the State as National Service Stores, others trans- 
 formed into factories, and others will be pulled down to make 
 room for dwellings or public buildings. It will be the duty 
 of the Government to build a sufficient number of houses 
 to accommodate the families of all those in its employment, and 
 as a consequence of this and because of the general disorganisa- 
 tion and decay of what is now called "business," all other 
 house property of all kinds will rapidly depreciate in value. 
 The slums and the wretched dwellings now occupied by 
 the working classes, the miserable, uncomfortable, jerry built 
 "villas" occupied by the lower middle classes and by 
 "business" people, will be left empty and valueless upon 
 the hands of their rack-renting landlords, who will very soon 
 voluntarily offer to hand them, and the ground they stand 
 upon, to the State on those terms accorded to the other 
 property owners, namely, in return for a pension. Some of 
 these people will be content to live in idleness on the income 
 allowed them for life as compensation by the State ; others 
 will devote themselves to art or science ; and some others will 
 offer their services to the commuuity as managers and super- 
 intendents ; and the State will always be glad to employ all 
 those who are willing to help in the great work of production 
 and distribution. 
 
 ' By this time the nation will be the sole employer of labour, 
 and as no one will be able to procure the necessaries of life 
 without paper money, and as the only way to obtain this will 
 be by working, it will mean that every mentally and physically 
 capable person in the community will be helping in the great 
 work of production and distribution. We shall not need, 
 as at present, to maintain a police force to protect the 
 
 339
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 property of the idle rich from the starving wretches whom 
 they have robbed. There will be no unemployed and no over- 
 lapping of labour, which will be organised and concentrated 
 for the accomplishment of the only rational object, the 
 creation of the things we require. For every one labour- 
 saving machine in use to-day, we will, if necessary, employ 
 a thousand machines, and consequently there will be pro- 
 duced such a stupendous, enormous, prodigious, overwhelming 
 abundance of everything, that soon the community will be faced 
 once more with the serious problem of over-production. 
 
 'To deal with this, it will be necessary to reduce the hours 
 of our workers to four or five hours a day. All young 
 people will be allowed to continue at the public schools and 
 universities and will not be required to take any part in the 
 work of the nation until they are twenty-one years of age. 
 At the age of forty-five everyone will be allowed to retire 
 from the State service on full pay. All these will be able 
 to spend the rest of their days according to their own inclina- 
 tions. Some will settle down quietly at home, and amuse 
 themselves in the same ways as people of wealth and leisure 
 do at the present day. Some will prefer to continue in the 
 service of the State. Actors, artists, sculptors, musicians and 
 others will go on working for their own pleasure and honour. 
 Some will devote their leisure to science, art, or literature. 
 Others will prefer to travel on the State steamships to different 
 parts of the world to see for themselves all those things of 
 which most of us have now but a dim and vague conception. 
 Thus, for the first time in the history of humanity, the 
 benefits and pleasures conferred upon mankind by science 
 and civilisation will be enjoyed equally by all, upon the one 
 condition, that they shall do their share of the work in order 
 to make all these things possible. 
 
 'These are the principles upon which the CO-OPERATIVE 
 COMMONWEALTH of the future will be organised : the State in 
 which no one will be distinguished or honoured above his 
 fellows except for Virtue or Talent ; where no man will find 
 his profit in another's loss, and we shall no longer be masters 
 and servants, but brothers, free men, and friends ; where 
 there will be no weary, broken men and women passing their 
 joyless lives in toil and want, and no little children crying 
 because they are hungry or cold.' 
 
 As Owen descended from the pulpit and walked back to 
 
 340
 
 The Great Oration 
 
 his accustomed seat a loud shout of applause burst from a 
 few men in the crowd, but the majority maintained a sullen 
 silence. When order was restored Philpot rose and addressed 
 the meeting : 
 
 ' Is there any gentleman wot would like to ask the speaker 
 a question ? ' 
 
 Crass and most of the others tried hard to think of some- 
 thing to say in defence of the existing state of affairs, or 
 against the proposals put forward by the lecturer ; but 
 finding nothing, they maintained a sullen and gloomy silence. 
 To judge by their unwillingness to alter the present system it 
 might have been supposed that they were afraid of losing 
 something, instead of having nothing to lose except their 
 poverty. It was not until the Chairman had made several 
 appeals for questions that Crass brightened up, a glad smile 
 overspreading his greasy visage ; at last he had thought of 
 some insurmountable obstacle to the establishment of the 
 Co-operative Commonwealth. 
 
 'Do you mean to say,' he said with a sneer, 'as the time 
 will ever come when the gentry will mix up on equal terms 
 with the likes of us ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no,' replied the lecturer. ' When we get Socialism 
 there won't be any people like us, we shall all be civilised.' 
 
 The man behind the moat seemed very much taken aback 
 at this prospect, and when one or two of the others laughed, 
 he remarked gloomily 'as he didn't see anything to laugh at.' 
 
 ' Anybody else want to be flattened out ? ' inquired the 
 Chairman. ' Or any Liberal or Tory Capitalist like to get up 
 in the pulpit and oppose the speaker ? ' As no one offered, 
 he said : ' It is now my painful dooty to call upon someone to 
 move a resolution.' 
 
 'Well, Mr Chairman,' said Harlow, 'I may say as when 
 I come on this firm I was a Liberal, but through listening to 
 several lectures by Professor Owen I've come to the con- 
 clusion that it's a mug's game to vote for the Capitalists, 
 whether they calls themselves Liberals or Tories. I couldn't 
 quite make out, though, how Socialism was going to 'elp us 
 but the lecture Professor Owen 'as given us this afternoon 
 has been a bit of an eye-opener to me, and I should like to 
 move as a resolution "That it is the opinion of this 'ere 
 meeting that Socialism is the only Remedy for Unemploy- 
 ment and Poverty." ' 
 
 341
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 ' I'll second that resolution,' said Easton. 
 
 'And I'll lay a bob both ways,' remarked Bundy. 
 
 The resolution was then put, and though the great 
 majority were against it, the Chairman declared it was 
 carried unanimously. 
 
 By this time the violence of the storm had in a great 
 measure abated, but as rain was still falling it was decided 
 not to attempt to resume work that day. 
 
 ' P'raps it's just as well it 'as rained,' remarked one man, 
 ' or else some of us might 'ave got the sack to-night. As it is, 
 there'll be hardly enough for all of us to do to-morrow and 
 Saturday mornin', even if it is fine.' 
 
 This was true, and with sudden panic at their hearts they 
 all realised that unless the firm had some other work there 
 would be a great slaughter on Saturday. 
 
 ' Now, look 'ere, v said Philpot, with a wink, assuming a 
 patronising air. ' I wants you hall to make a speshall heffort 
 and get 'ere very hearly in the mornin', say about four 
 o'clock, and them wot doos the most work to-morrer, will get 
 a prize on Saturday.' 
 
 ' What'll it be, the sack?' inquired Harlow. 
 
 1 Yes,' replied Philpot, ' and not honly will you get a prize, 
 but if you hall keep on workin like we've bin doing lately till 
 you're too hold and too wore hout to do any more, you'll be 
 allowed to go to a nice workhouse for the rest of your lives, 
 and each one of you will be given a title " Pauper ! " 
 
 And they laughed ! In spite of the fact that the majority of 
 them had mothers or fathers who had already succeeded to 
 the title they laughed ! 
 
 As they were going home Crass paused at the gate, and 
 pointing up to the large gable at the end of the house, said 
 to Philpot : 
 
 ' You'll want the longest ladder, the sixty-five, for that, to- 
 morrow.' 
 
 Philpot looked up at the gable. It was very high. 
 
 342
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 THE SIXTY-FIVE 
 
 THE next morning after breakfast Philpot, Sawkins, Harlow 
 and Easton went to the yard to get the long ladder. It was 
 called 'the Sixty-five' because it had sixty-five rungs ; it was 
 a builder's scaffold ladder, and altogether too heavy and 
 cumbrous for painter's work. However, as none of the others 
 were long enough to reach the high gable at ' The Refuge,' 
 they managed with a struggle to get it down from the hooks 
 and put it on one of the handcarts, and soon passed through 
 the streets of mean and dingy houses in the vicinity of the 
 yard and began the ascent of the long hill. 
 
 There had been a lot of rain during the night and the sky 
 was still overcast with dark grey clouds. The cart went 
 heavily over the muddy road. Sawkins was at the helm, 
 holding the end of the ladder and steering ; the others walked 
 a little further ahead, at the sides of the cart. 
 
 It was such an exhausting shove that half-way up the hill 
 they stopped for a rest, keeping a good look-out for Rushton 
 or Hunter, who might pass at any moment. 
 
 ' This is a bit of all right, ain't it ? ' remarked Harlow as 
 he took off his cap and wiped the sweat from his forehead 
 with his handkerchief. 
 
 At first no one made any reply, for they were all out of 
 breath and Philpot's lean fingers trembled violently as he 
 wiped the perspiration from his face. 
 
 Yes, mate,' he said despondently, after a while. ' It's one 
 way of gettin' a livin', and there's plenty better.' 
 
 In addition to the fact that his rheumatism was excep- 
 tionally bad, he felt low-spirited this morning. The gloomy 
 weather and the prospect of a long day of ladder : work 
 probably accounted for his unusual dejection. 
 
 They relapsed into silence. The depression that possessed 
 Philpot deprived him of all his usual jocularity and filled him 
 
 343
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 with melancholy thoughts. He had travelled up and down 
 this hill a great many times before under similar circumstances, 
 and he said to himself that if he had half a quid now for every 
 time he had pushed a cart up this road he wouldn't need to 
 do anyone out of a job all the rest of his life. 
 
 The shop where he had been apprenticed used to be just 
 down at the bottom ; the place had been pulled down years 
 ago and the ground was now occupied by more pretentious 
 buildings. Not quite so far down the road, on the other side, 
 he could see the church where he was married just thirty 
 years ago. Presently, when they reached the top of the hill, 
 he would be able to look across the valley to the spire of the 
 other church, the one in the graveyard, where wife and 
 children, all those who were dear to him, had been laid to rest, 
 one by one. He felt that he would not be sorry when the 
 time came to join them there. Possibly in the next world, if 
 there were such a place, they might all be together again. 
 
 He was suddenly aroused from these thoughts by an 
 exclamation from Harlow : 
 
 I Look out ! Here comes Rushton.' 
 
 They immediately resumed their journey. Rushton was 
 coming up the hill in his dog-cart, with Grinder sitting by his 
 side. They passed so closely that Philpot was splashed with 
 mud from the wheels of the trap. 
 
 ' Them's some of your chaps, ain't they ? ' remarked 
 Grinder. 
 
 ' Yes,' replied Rushton, ' We're doing a job up this way.' 
 
 I 1 should 'ave thought it would pay you better to use a 
 'orse for sich work as that,' said Grinder. 
 
 4 We do use the horses whenever it's necessary, for very 
 big loads,' answered Rushton, and added with a laugh : ' but 
 the donkeys are quite strong enough for such a job as that.' 
 
 The ' donkeys ' struggled on up the hill for about another 
 hundred yards and then they were forced to halt again. 
 
 Whilst they were resting another two-legged donkey 
 passed by pushing another cart, or rather, holding it back, 
 for he was going slowly down the hill ; another Heir of all 
 the Ages, another Imperialist, a degraded, brutalised wretch, 
 clad in filthy, stinking rags, his toes protruding from the 
 rotten broken boots that were tied with bits of string upon 
 his stockingless feet. The ramshackle cart was loaded 
 with empty bottles and putrid rags, old coats and trousers, 
 
 344
 
 The Sixty-Five 
 
 dresses, petticoats and underclothing, greasy, mildewed and 
 malodorous. As he crept along, with his eyes on the ground, 
 he uttered at intervals uncouth, inarticulate sounds. 
 
 ' That's another way of gettin' a livin',' said Sawkins, with 
 a laugh as the miserable creature slunk by. The others laugh- 
 ed, and Harlow was about to make some reply but at that 
 moment a cyclist appeared coming down the hill from the 
 direction of the job. It was Nimrod, so they resumed their 
 journey once more, and presently Hunter shot past on his 
 machine without taking any notice of them. 
 
 When they arrived at their destination they found that 
 Rushton had not been there at all, but Nimrod had. Crass 
 said that he had kicked up no end of a row because they had 
 not called at the yard at six o'clock that morning for the 
 ladder instead of after breakfast, and also because the big 
 gable had not been started the first thing that morning. 
 
 They carried the ladder into the garden and laid it on the 
 ground by the gable in a passage about six feet wide between 
 the side of the house and the garden wall. 
 
 Next, it was necessary that two men should go up into the 
 attic, the window of which was just under the point of the 
 gable, and drop the end of a long rope down to the others 
 who would tie it to the top of the ladder. Then two men would 
 stand on the bottom rung so as to keep the ' foot ' down, and 
 three others would have to raise the ladder while the two 
 men up in the attic hauled on the rope. 
 
 They called Bundy and his mate Ned Dawson to help, and 
 it was arranged that Harlow and Crass should stand on the 
 foot because they were the heaviest. Philpot, Bundy, and 
 Easton were to ' raise,' and Dawson and Sawkins were to go 
 up to the attic and haul on the rope. 
 
 4 Where's the rope ? ' asked Crass. 
 
 The others looked blankly at him. None of them had thought 
 of bringing one from the yard. 
 
 1 Why, ain't there one 'ere ? ' said Philpot, feebly. 
 
 ' One 'ere ? Of course there ain't one 'ere ! ' snarled 
 Crass. ' Do you mean to say as you ain't brought one, 
 then ? ' 
 
 Philpot stammered out something about having thought 
 there was one at the house already. 
 
 1 Well, what the bloody hell are we to do now ? ' cried Crass 
 angrily. ' 'Ere it's nearly ten o'clock and we 'aven't begun the 
 
 345
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 gable yet, wot we oughter 'ave started on first thing this 
 morning.' 
 
 'Well, the only thing as I can see for it.' he continued, 'is 
 that the boy will 'ave to go down to the yard and get the long 
 rope. It won't do for anyone else to go ; there's been row 
 enough already.' 
 
 Bert was called and given the necessary instructions, chief 
 of which was to get back again as soon as ever he could. The 
 boy ran off, and while they were waiting, Philpot returned to 
 the small gable he had been painting before breakfast, which 
 he had not quite finished. As he worked, a sudden and un- 
 accountable terror took possession of him. He did not want to 
 do that high gable he felt too ill ; and he almost resolved that 
 he would ask Crass if he would mind letting him do something 
 else. There were several younger men who would find the job 
 mere child's play. 
 
 But then he remembered what the probable consequences 
 would be, and tried to persuade himself that he would be able 
 to get through it all right. It would not do to let Crass or 
 Hunter mark him as being too old for ladder work. 
 
 Bert came back in about half an hour flushed and sweating 
 with the weight of the rope and the speed he had made. He 
 delivered it to Crass who passed the word for Philpot and the 
 others to come and raise the ladder. He handed the rope to 
 Ned Dawson, who took it up to the attic, accompanied by 
 Sawkins. Arrived there, they lowered one end out of the win- 
 dow down to the others. 
 
 ' If you ask me,' said Ned Dawson, who was critically ex- 
 amining the strands of the rope as he passed it out through 
 the open window ; ' if you ask me, I don't see as this 'ere rope 
 is much good. Look 'ere ' ; he indicated a part which was very 
 frayed and worn ; ' and 'ere's another place just as bad.' 
 
 'Well, for Christ's sake don't say nothing about it now,' 
 replied Sawkins ; ' there's been enough talk and waste of time 
 over this job already.' 
 
 Ned made no answer, and the end having by this time 
 reached the ground, Bundy made it fast to the ladder, about 
 six rungs from the top. 
 
 The ladder was lying on the ground, parallel to the side of 
 the house. The task of raising it would have been much easier 
 if they had been able to lay it at right angles to the house 
 wall, but this was impossible because of the premises next 
 
 346
 
 The Sixty-Five 
 
 door and the garden wall between the two houses. As it was, 
 the men at the top would not be able to get a straight pull on 
 the rope, and would have to stand back in the room without 
 being able to see the ladder, while the rope would have to be 
 drawn round the corner of the window, rasping against the 
 edge of the stone sill and the brickwork. 
 
 Crass and Harlow now stood on the foot and the other 
 three raised the top from the ground. As Easton was the 
 tallest he took the middle position, underneath, grasping the 
 rungs, Philpot being on his left and Bundy on his right, each 
 holding one side of the ladder. 
 
 At a signal from Crass, Dawson and Sawkins began to 
 haul on the rope, and the top of the ladder rose slowly in 
 the air. 
 
 The fact that Philpot was not of much use at this work 
 made it all the harder for the other two who were lifting, be- 
 sides putting an extra strain on the rope. His lack of strength 
 and the efforts of Easton and Bundy to make up for him caused 
 the ladder to sway from side to side. 
 
 Meanwhile, upstairs, Dawson and Sawkins, although the 
 ladder was as yet only a little more than halfway up, noticed, 
 as they hauled and strained on the rope, that it had worn a 
 groove for itself in the corner of the brickwork at the side of 
 the window ; and every now and then, although they pulled 
 with all their strength, they were not able to draw in any 
 part of the rope at all, and it seemed to them as if those 
 others down below must have either let go their hold alto- 
 gether or ceased lifting. 
 
 That was what actually happened. The three men found 
 the weight so overpowering that once or twice they were com- 
 pelled to relax their efforts for a few seconds, and at those 
 times the rope had to carry the whole weight of the ladder ; 
 and the part of the rope that had to bear the greatest strain 
 was the particular part that chanced to be at the angle of the 
 brickwork at the side of the window. And presently it hap- 
 pened that one of the frayed and worn places that Dawson 
 had remarked was just at the angle during one of those 
 momentary pauses. On one end of the rope there hung the 
 ponderous ladder, straining the frayed part against the corner 
 of the brickwork and the sharp edge of the stone sill, at the 
 other end were Dawson and Sawkins, pulling with all their 
 strength, and next instant the rope snapped like a piece of 
 
 347
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 thread. Sawkins and Dawson reeled backwards into the room, 
 and the broken rope flew up into the air, writhing like the 
 lash of a gigantic whip. For a moment the heavy ladder 
 swayed from side to side. Easton, standing underneath, with 
 his hands raised above his head grasping one of the rungs, 
 struggled desperately to hold it up. At his right stood Bundy, 
 also with arms upraised holding the side ; and on the left, be- 
 tween the ladder and the wall, was Philpot. 
 
 For a brief space they strove fiercely to support the over- 
 powering weight, but Philpot had no strength, and the ladder, 
 swaying over to the left, crashed down, crushing him upon 
 the ground and against the wall of the house. He fell face 
 downwards, with the ladder across his shoulders. The side 
 that had the iron bands twisted round it fell across the back 
 of his neck, forcing his face against the bricks at the base of 
 the wall. He uttered no cry and was quite still, with blood 
 streaming from the cuts on his face, and trickling from 
 his ears. 
 
 None of the others were hurt, for they had all had time to 
 jump clear when the ladder fell. Their shouts soon brought 
 all the other men running to the spot, and the ladder was 
 quickly lifted off the motionless figure. 
 
 Easton rushed off for a neighbouring doctor, who came in 
 a few minutes. He knelt down and carefully examined the 
 crushed and motionless form, while the other men stood by 
 in terrified silence. 
 
 The examination was a very brief one, and when the doctor 
 rose from his knees, even before he spoke, they knew from his 
 manner that their worst fears were realized. 
 
 Philpot was dead. 
 
 348
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 THE GHOULS 
 
 WHEN Hunter arrived at the house shortly afterwards he 
 first began to shout and bully because the gable had not been 
 begun ; then, on hearing of the accident, he blamed the men for 
 using the rope ; and finally after Philpot's body had been re- 
 moved to the mortuary, he had a long private talk with Crass. 
 The result of his confidential investigations proved that Phil- 
 pot had no relatives, that his life was insured for ten pounds 
 and that the money was to be paid to the old woman with 
 whom he lodged. Crass and Hunter came to the conclusion 
 that it was probable that she would be very glad to be relieved 
 of the trouble of attending to the business of the funeral, and 
 that Crass, as a close friend of the dead man and a fellow- 
 member of the Insurance Society, was the most suitable person 
 to take charge of the business for her. Of course, they would 
 not be able to do much until after the inquest, but they could 
 get the coffin made ; and as Hunter knew the mortuary keeper 
 there would be no difficulty about getting in for a minute to 
 measure the corpse. 
 
 This matter having been arranged, Hunter departed to order 
 a new rope, and shortly afterwards Crass, having made sure 
 that everyone would have plenty to do while he was gone, 
 quietly slipped away to see Philpot's landlady. 
 
 The new rope was brought to the house about one o'clock, 
 and this time the ladder was raised without any mishap. Har- 
 low was put on to paint the gable, but his nerve was so shaken 
 that he was allowed to have Sawkins to stand by and hold the 
 ladder all the time. Everyone felt nervous that afternoon, and 
 they all went about their work in an unusually careful 
 manner. 
 
 While Bert was painting the gate of the side entrance he 
 was accosted by a solemn looking man who asked him about 
 the accident. The solemn stranger was very sympathetic and 
 
 349
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 enquired what was the name of the man who had been killed, 
 and whether he was married. Bert informed him that Philpot 
 was a widower, and that he had no children. 
 
 ' Ah, well, that's so much the better, isn't it ? ' said the 
 stranger, shaking his head mournfully. ' It's a dreadful thing, 
 you know, when there's children left unprovided for. You 
 don't happen to know where he lived, do you ? ' 
 
 'Yes,' said Bert, mentioning the address and beginning to 
 wonder what the solemn man wanted to know for, and why 
 he appeared to be so sorry for Philpot, since it was quite 
 evident that he was quite a stranger to him. 
 
 'Thanks very much,' said the man, pulling out his pocket 
 book and making a note in it. ' Thanks very much, indeed. 
 Good afternoon.' And he hurried off. 
 
 1 Good afternoon, sir,' said Bert, and turned to resume his 
 work. Crass came along the garden path just as the mysteri- 
 ous stranger was disappearing round the corner- 
 
 ' What did he want ? ' said Crass, who had seen the man 
 talking to Bert. 
 
 ' I don't know exactly. He was asking about the accident, 
 and whether Joe left any children, and where he lived. He 
 must be a very decent sort of chap, I should think. He seems 
 quite sorry about it.' 
 
 ' Oh, he does, does he ? ' said Crass, with a peculiar expres- 
 sion. ' Don't you know who he is ? ' 
 
 ' No,' replied the boy. ' But I thought p'raps he was a re- 
 porter of some paper.' 
 
 1 'E ain't no reporter. That's old Snatchum, the undertaker ; 
 "e's smellin* round after a job ; but 'e's out of it this time, smart 
 as 'e thinks 'e is.' 
 
 The accident was a constant topic of conversation among 
 the men. They said that it was all very well for Hunter to 
 talk like that about the rope, but he had known for a long time 
 that it was nearly worn out. Newman said that only about 
 three weeks previously, when they were raising a ladder at 
 another job, he had shown the rope to him, and Misery had 
 replied that there was nothing wrong with it. Several others 
 besides Newman claimed to have mentioned the matter to 
 Hunter, and he had made the same sort of reply in each case. 
 But when Owen suggested that they should attend the inquest 
 and give evidence to that effect, they became suddenly silent, 
 and Newman afterwards pointed out to Owen that by doing 
 
 350
 
 The Ghouls 
 
 so he could not bring Philpot back again and would only do 
 himself a lot of harm. He would never get another job at Rush- 
 ton's, while many of the other employers would ' mark ' him 
 as well. 
 
 1 So if you say anything about it,' concluded Newman, 
 1 don't bring my name into it.' 
 
 Owen was bound to admit that all things considered it was 
 right for Newman to mind his own business. He felt that it 
 would not be fair to urge him or anyone else to do or say any- 
 thing that would injure their own prospects. 
 
 Misery came to the house about eleven o'clock on Saturday 
 and informed several of the hands that as work was very slack 
 they would get their back day at pay time. He said the firm 
 had tendered for one or two jobs, so they could call round 
 about Wednesday and perhaps he then might be able to give 
 some of them another start. Owen was not one of those who 
 were ' stood off,' although he had expected to be on account of 
 the speech he had made at the beano, and everyone said that 
 he would have got the push sure enough if it had not been for 
 the accident. 
 
 Before he went away, Nimrod instructed Owen and Crass 
 to g to the yard at once to help Payne finish off the coffin. 
 
 As it was such a cheap job there was no time to polish it 
 properly, so Crass proceeded to give it a couple of coats of 
 spirit varnish, and while he was doing this Owen wrote the 
 plate, which was made of very thin zinc lacquered over to 
 make it look like brass : 
 
 JOSEPH PHILPOT 
 
 DIED 
 
 September ist, 19 
 AGED 56 YEARS 
 
 The inquest was held on the following Monday morning, 
 and as both Rushton and Hunter thought it possible that 
 Owen might attempt to impute some blame to them, they had 
 worked the oracle and had contrived to have several friends of 
 their own put on the jury. There was, however, no need for 
 their alarm, because Owen could not say that he had himself 
 noticed, or called Hunter's attention to, the state of the rope ; 
 
 351
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 and he did not wish to mention the names of the others with- 
 out their permission. Crass and the other men gave evidence 
 that it was a pure accident. None of them had noticed that 
 the rope was unsound. Hunter also swore that he did not 
 know of it, none of the men had ever called his attention to 
 it ; if they had done so he would have procured a new one 
 immediately. 
 
 Philpot's landlady and Mr Rushton were also called as 
 witnesses, and the end was that the jury returned a verdict 
 of accidental death, and added that they did not think any 
 blame attached to anyone. 
 
 As the witnesses passed out of the room, Hunter followed 
 Rushton with the hope of being honoured by a little con- 
 versation on the satisfactory issue of the case ; but Rushton 
 went off without taking any notice of him, so Hunter 
 returned to the room where the court had been held, to get 
 the coroner's certificate authorising the interment of the body. 
 This document is usually handed to the friends of the 
 deceased or to the undertaker acting for them. When Hunter 
 got back to the room he found that during his absence the 
 coroner had given it to Philpot's landlady, and when he 
 hastened outside to ask her for it the woman was nowhere 
 to be seen. 
 
 Crass and the other men were also gone. They had hurried 
 off to return to work, and after a moment's hesitation Hunter 
 decided that it did not matter much about the certificate. 
 Crass had arranged the business with the landlady and he 
 could get the paper from her later on. Having come to this 
 conclusion he dismissed the subject from his mind. 
 
 That evening, after having been home to tea, Crass and 
 Sawkins met by appointment at the carpenter's shop to take 
 the coffin to the mortuary, where Misery had arranged to 
 meet them at half-past eight o'clock. Hunter's plan was to 
 have the funeral take place from the mortuary, which was 
 only about a quarter of an hour's walk from the yard ; so 
 to-night they were just going to lift in the body and get the 
 lid screwed down. 
 
 It was blowing hard and raining heavily when they set 
 out, carrying the coffin, covered with a black cloth, on their 
 shoulders. They also carried a small pair of trestles. 
 
 On their way they had to pass the ' Cricketers ' and the 
 place looked so inviting that they decided to stop and have a 
 
 352
 
 The Ghouls 
 
 drink, just to keep the damp out, and as they could not very 
 well take the coffin inside with them, they stood it up against 
 the wall outside, Crass remarking with a laugh, there was 
 not much danger of anyone pinching it. Just as they finished 
 drinking the two half-pints there was a loud crash outside, 
 and rushing out they found that the coffin had blown down 
 and was lying bottom upwards across the pavement, while the 
 black cloth that had been wrapped round it was out in the 
 middle of the muddy road. Having recovered this, the}' shook 
 off as much of the dirt as they could, and once more wrapping 
 it round the coffin resumed their journey to the mortuary, 
 where they found Hunter waiting for them engaged in 
 earnest conversation with the keeper. The electric light was 
 switched on, and they saw that the marble slab was empty. 
 
 'Snatchum came this afternoon with a handtruck and a 
 corfin,' explained the keeper. 'I was out at the time, and 
 the missis thought it was all right, so she let him have 
 the key.' 
 
 Hunter and Crass looked blankly at each other. 
 
 4 Well, this takes the biskit ! ' said the latter as soon as he 
 could speak. 
 
 ' I thought you said you had settled everything all right 
 with the old woman ? ' said Hunter. 
 
 'So I did,' replied Crass ; ' I seen 'er on Friday, and I told 
 'er to leave it all to me to attend to, and she said she would. 
 I told 'er that Philpot said to me that if ever anything 
 appened to 'im I was to take charge of everything for 'er, 
 because I was 'is best friend. And I told 'er we'd do it as 
 cheap as possible.' 
 
 'Well, it seems to me as you've bungled it somehow,' said 
 Nimrod gloomily. ' I ought to have gone and seen 'er myself. 
 I was afraid you'd make a mess of it,' he added in a wailing 
 tone. ' It's always the same ; everything that I don't attend 
 to myself goes wrong.' 
 
 An uncomfortable silence followed. Crass thought that the 
 principal piece of bungling in this affair was Hunter's failure 
 to secure possession of the coroner's certificate after the 
 inquest, but he was afraid to say so. 
 
 ' I can see 'ow it's been worked,' said Crass at last ; 'there's 
 one of the members of the club who works for Snatchum, and 
 'e's took it on 'isself to give the order for the funeral ; but 'e's 
 got no right to do it." 
 
 z 353
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 ' Right or no right, 'e's done it,' replied Misery, 'so you'd 
 better take the box back to the shop.' 
 
 Crass and Sawkins accordingly returned to the workshop, 
 where they were presently joined by Nimrod. 
 
 'I've been thinking this business over as I came along,' 
 he said, ' and I don't see being beat like this by Snatchum ; 
 so you two can just put the trestles and the box on a hand- 
 cart and we'll take it over to Philpot's house.' 
 
 Nimrod walked on the pavement while the other two 
 pushed the cart, and it was about half-past nine when they 
 halted in a dark part of the street, a few yards away from 
 the house and on the opposite side. 
 
 ' I think the best thing we can do,' said Misery, 'is for me 
 and Sawkins to wait 'ere while you go to the 'ouse and see 
 'ow the land lies. You've done all the business with 'er so 
 far. It's no use takin' the box unless we know the corpse is 
 there. For all we know Snatchum may 'ave taken it 'ome 
 with 'im.' 
 
 ' Yes ; I think that'll be the best way,' agreed Crass, after 
 a moment's thought. 
 
 Nimrod and Sawkins accordingly took shelter in the door- 
 way iof an empty house, leaving the handcart at the kerb, 
 while Crass went across the street and knocked at Philpot's 
 door. They saw it opened by an elderly woman holding a 
 lighted candle in her hand ; then Crass went inside and the 
 door was shut. In about a quarter of an hour he re-appeared 
 and leaving the door partly open behind him he came out 
 and crossed over to where the others were waiting. As he 
 drew near they could see that he carried a piece of paper in 
 his hand. 
 
 ' It's all right,' he said in a hoarse whisper, ' I've got the 
 stifficut.' 
 
 Misery took the paper eagerly and scanned it by the light 
 of a match that Crass struck. It was the certificate right 
 enough, and with a sigh of relief Hunter put it into his note- 
 book and stowed it safely away in the inner pocket of his 
 coat, while Crass explained the result of his errand. 
 
 It appeared that the other member of the Society, accom- 
 panied by Snatchum, had called upon the old woman 
 and had bluffed her into giving them the order for the 
 funeral and had put her up to getting the certificate from 
 the coroner. 
 
 354
 
 The Ghouls 
 
 'When they brought the body 'ome this afternoon,' Crass 
 went on, 4 Snatchum tried to get the stifficut orf 'er, but 
 she'd been thinkin' things over and was a bit frightened 
 'cos she knowed she'd made arrangements with me, and 
 she thought she'd better see me first ; so she told 'im she'd 
 give it to 'im on Thursday, the day as 'e was goin to 'ave 
 the funeral.' 
 
 4 He'll find he's a day too late,' said Misery, with a ghastly 
 grin. ' We'll get the job done on Wednesday.' 
 
 1 She didn't want to give it to me, at first,' Crass concluded, 
 4 but I told 'er we'd see 'er right if old Snatchum tried to 
 make 'er pay for the other corfin.' 
 
 4 1 don't think he's likely to make much fuss about it,' said 
 Hunter. 4 He won't want everybody to know he was so anxious 
 for the job.' 
 
 Crass and Sawkins pushed the hand-cart over to the other 
 side of the road, and carried the coffin into the house, Nimrod 
 going first. 
 
 The old woman was waiting for them with the candle at 
 the end of the passage. 
 
 4 1 shall be very glad when it's all over,' she said, as she 
 led the way up the narrow stairs, closely followed by Hunter, 
 who carried the trestles, Crass and Sawkins bringing up 
 the rear with the coffin. 4 1 shall be very glad when it's all 
 over, for I'm sick and tired of answerin' the door to under- 
 takers. If there's been one 'ere since Friday there's been a 
 dozen after the job, not to mention all the cards what's been 
 put under the door, besides the ones what I've had give to me 
 by different people.' 
 
 Arrived at the top landing the old woman opened a door 
 and entered a small and wretchedly furnished room. Across 
 the lower sash of the window hung a tattered piece of lace 
 curtain. The low ceiling was cracked and discoloured. There 
 was a rickety little wooden washstand, and along one side of 
 the room a narrow bed was covered with a ragged grey 
 quilt, on which lay a bundle containing the clothes that the 
 dead man was wearing at the time of the accident. In the 
 middle of this dreary room upon a pair of trestles stood a 
 coffin covered with a white sheet, terrible in its silent pathetic 
 solitude. 
 
 The old woman placed the candle on the mantelpiece, 
 and withdrew, while the men laid the empty coffin on the 
 
 355
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 floor by the side of the bed. Crass took two large screw 
 drivers from the pocket of his overcoat and handed one to 
 Hunter. 
 
 Sawkins held the candle while they unscrewed and took off 
 the lid of the coffin they had brought with them. 
 
 1 1 think we shall be able to work better if we takes the 
 other one orf the trussels and put it on the floor,' remarked 
 Crass. 
 
 ' Yes, I think so, too/ replied Hunter. 
 
 Crass took off the sheet and threw it on the bed, revealing 
 the other coffin, which was very similar in appearance to 
 the one they had brought. Hunter took hold of the head 
 and Crass the foot and they lifted it off the trestles on to 
 the floor. 
 
 4 'E's not very 'eavy, that's one good thing,' observed 
 Hunter. 
 
 "E always was a very thin chap,' remarked Crass. 
 
 The screws that held down the lid had been covered over 
 with large-headed brass nails and these had to be wrenched 
 off, the screws themselves were old ones, rusty and of odd 
 sizes, and were screwed in so firmly that by the time half of 
 them were drawn the two men were streaming with perspira- 
 tion. After a while Hunter took the candle from Sawkins and 
 the latter had a try at the screws. 
 
 'Anyone would think the dam things had been in there for 
 a 'undred years,' remarked Hunter, savagely, as he wiped 
 the sweat from his face and neck with his handkerchief. 
 
 Kneeling on the lid of the coffin and panting and grunting 
 with the exertion, the other two continued to struggle with 
 their task. Suddenly Crass uttered an obscene curse : he had 
 broken off one side of the head of the screw he was trying to 
 turn ; and about at the same instant a similar misfortune 
 happened to Sawkins. 
 
 After this, Hunter again took a screwdriver himself, and 
 when they had got all the screws out with the exception of 
 the two broken ones, Crass took a hammer and chisel and 
 proceeded to cut off what was left of the tops of these. But 
 even after this was done the two screws still held the lid on 
 the coffin, and so they had to hammer the end of the blade of 
 the chisel underneath and lever up the lid so that they could 
 get hold of it with their fingers. It split up one side as they 
 tore it off, and exposed the dead man to view. 
 
 356
 
 The Ghouls 
 
 Although the marks of the cuts and bruises were still 
 visible on old Joe's face, they were softened by the pallor of 
 death, and his features wore a placid, peaceful expression. 
 His hands were crossed upon his breast, and lying there in 
 the snow white grave clothes, almost covered in by the white 
 frill that bordered the sides of the coffin, he looked like one 
 in a profound and tranquil sleep. 
 
 They laid the broken lid on the bed, and placed the two 
 coffins side by side on the floor as close together as possible. 
 Sawkins stood at one side holding the candle. Crass, at the 
 foot, took hold of the body by the ankles, Hunter at the 
 other end seized it by the shoulders with his huge claw- 
 like hands, which resembled the talons of some obscene 
 bird of prey, and they lifted it out and placed it in the other 
 coffin. 
 
 Whilst Hunter, hovering ghoulishly over the corpse, 
 arranged the grave clothes and the frilling, Crass laid the 
 broken cover on the top of the other coffin and pushed it 
 under the bed out of the way. Then he selected the necessary 
 screws and nails from the bag and they proceeded to screw 
 down the lid. When they had lifted the coffin on to the 
 trestles and covered it over with the sheet its appearance 
 was so much like the other one that it caused the same 
 thought to each of the three men. Suppose Snatchum were 
 to come there and take the body out again ? If he did so, and 
 fetched it to the cemetery, they might be compelled to give 
 up the certificate to him and then all their trouble would be 
 lost. 
 
 After a brief consultation they resolved that it would be 
 safer to take the corpse on the handcart to the yard and keep 
 it in the carpenter's shop until the funeral, which could take 
 place from there. Crass and Sawkins accordingly lifted the 
 coffin off the trestles, and, while Hunter held the light, pro- 
 ceeded to carry it downstairs, a task of considerable difficulty 
 owing to the narrowness of the staircase and the landing. 
 However, they succeeded at last and placing it on the hand- 
 cart, covered it over with the black wrapper. 
 
 Hunter wished them 'good-night' at the corner of the 
 street, saying he would make the arrangements for the 
 funeral as soon as possible the next morning, and would 
 come to the job and let them know what time they 
 would have to be in attendance to act as bearers. He 
 
 2 57
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 had gone a little distance when he stopped and turned back 
 to them. 
 
 4 It's not necessary for either of you to make a song about 
 this business, you know,' he said. 
 
 The two men said that they quite understood that : he could 
 depend on their keeping their mouths shut. 
 
 When Hunter had gone Crass drew out his watch. It was 
 a quarter to eleven. A little way down the road the lights of a 
 public house were gleaming through the mist. 
 
 4 We shall be just in time to get a drink before closing time, 
 if we buck up,' he said, and with this object they hurried on 
 as fast as they could. 
 
 When they reached the tavern they left the cart standing 
 by the kerb, and went inside, where Crass ordered two pints 
 of four ale, which he permitted Sawkins to pay for. 
 
 4 How are we going on about this job ? ' enquired the latter 
 after they had each taken a long drink, for they were thirsty 
 after their exertions ; 4 1 reckon we ought to 'ave more than a 
 bob for it, don't you ? It's not like a ordinary " lift in." ' 
 
 4 Of course it ain't,' replied Crass. 4 We ought to 'ave 
 about, say' reflecting 4 say 'arf a dollar each at the very 
 least.' 
 
 4 'Ow are we goin' on about chargin' it on our time sheets ? 
 asked Sawkins, after a pause. 4 If we just put a 44 lift in " they 
 might only pay us a bob as usual.' 
 
 Crass smoked reflectively. 
 
 4 1 think the best way will be to put it like this,' he said at 
 length : 4 ' 4 Philpot's funeral : one lift out and one lift in. Also 
 taking corpse to carpenter's shop." 'Ow would that do?' 
 
 Sawkins said that would be a very good way to put it, and 
 they finished their beer just as the landlord intimated that it 
 was closing time. The cart was standing where they left it, 
 the black cloth saturated with the rain, which dripped mourn- 
 fully from its sable folds. 
 
 When they reached the plot of waste ground over which 
 they had to pass in order to reacn the gates of the yard, they 
 had to proceed cautiously, for it was very dark and the 
 lantern did not give much light. A number of carts and lorries 
 were standing there, and the path wound through pools of 
 water and heaps of refuse. After much difficulty and jolting, 
 they reached the gate, which Crass unlocked with the key he 
 had obtained from the office earlier in the evening. They then 
 
 358
 
 The Ghouls 
 
 opened the door of the carpenter's shop and, after lighting the 
 gas, brought in the coffin and placed it upon the trestles, and 
 then locked the door behind them. 
 
 The next morning was a very busy one for Hunter, who 
 had to see several new jobs started. They were all small 
 affairs ; most of them would only take two or three days from 
 start to finish. Attending to this work occupied most of his 
 morning, but all the same he managed to do the necessary busi- 
 ness connected with the funeral, which he arranged to take 
 place at two o'clock on Wednesday afternoon, from the mor- 
 tuary, where the coffin had been removed during the day, 
 Hunter concluding that it would not look well to let the funeral 
 start from the workshop. 
 
 Although he had kept it as quiet as possible there was a 
 small crowd of Philpot's old mates who happened to be out 
 of work waiting outside the mortuary to see the funeral start, 
 and amongst them were Bill Bates and the Semi-Drunk, who 
 were both quite sober. Owen and Harlow were also there, 
 having left off work early in order to go to the funeral. They 
 were there too in a sense as the representatives of the other 
 workmen, for Owen carried a large wreath which had been 
 subscribed for voluntarily by Rushton's men. 
 
 Promptly at two o'clock the hearse and mourning coach 
 drove up with Hunter, Crass, Slyme, Payne and Sawkins, the 
 four bearers, all dressed in black with frock coats and silk 
 hats. Although they were nominally attired in the same way, 
 there was a remarkable dissimilarity in their appearance. 
 Grass's coat was of smooth, intensely black cloth, having been 
 recently dyed, and the crown of his hat was rather low, 
 and curved outwards towards the top. Hunter's coat was a 
 kind of rusty black serge, and his hat was very tall and straight, 
 slightly narrower at the crown than at the brim. As for the 
 others, each of them had a hat of a different fashion and date, 
 and their clothes were rather rustier than Hunter's. 
 
 When the coffin was brought out and placed in the hearse, 
 Hunter laid upon it the men's wreath, together with another 
 he had brought himself, inscribed ' From Rushton and Com- 
 pany, with deep sympathy.' 
 
 Seeing that Harlow and Owen were the only occupants of 
 the carriage, Bill Bates and the Semi-Drunk came up to the 
 door and asked if there was any objection to their coming, and 
 as neither Owen nor Harlow objected, they got in. 
 
 359
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 Meanwhile, Hunter had taken his position a few yards in 
 front of the hearse, with the bearers two on each side. As the 
 procession turned into the main road, they saw Snatchum 
 standing at the corner looking very gloomy. Hunter kept his 
 eyes fixed straight ahead, but Crass could not resist indulging 
 in a jeering smile, which so enraged Snatchum, that he shout- 
 ed out : 
 
 ' It don't matter ! I shan't lose much. I can use it for some- 
 one else ! ' 
 
 The distance to the cemetery was about three miles, so as 
 soon as they got out of the busy streets of the town, Hunter 
 got up on the hearse beside the driver, Crass sat on the other 
 side, and two of the other bearers stood in the space behind 
 the driver's seat, the fourth getting up beside the driver of the 
 coach ; and then they proceeded at a rapid pace. 
 
 About fifty yards from the cemetery gate, Hunter and the 
 bearers resumed their former positions, and they passed up to 
 the chapel at walking pace. 
 
 After a wait of about ten minutes the clergyman entered, 
 and at once began to recite the usual office in a wholly unin- 
 telligible gabble. 
 
 If it had not been for the fact that each of his hearers had 
 a copy of the words, for there was a little book in each pew, 
 none of them would have been able to gather the sense of 
 what the man was saying. His attitude and manner hardly 
 suggested that he was addressing the Supreme Being. While 
 he recited, intoned, or gabbled the words of the office, he was 
 reading the certificate and some other paper the clerk had 
 placed upon the desk, and when he had finished reading these, 
 his gaze wandered abstractedly round the chapel resting for 
 a long time with an expression of curiosity upon Bill Bates 
 and the Semi-Drunk, who were doing their best to follow the 
 service in their books. He next turned his attention to his 
 fingers, holding his hand away from him nearly at arm's length 
 and critically examining the nails. 
 
 From time to time as this miserable mockery proceeded 
 the clerk in the rusty black cassock mechanically droned out 
 a sonorous ' Ah-men,' and after the conclusion of the lesson 
 the clergyman went out of the church, taking a short cut 
 through the gravestones and monuments, while the bearers 
 again shouldered the coffin and followed the clerk to the 
 grave. When they arrived within a few yards of their destina- 
 
 360
 
 The Ghouls 
 
 tion they were rejoined by the clergyman, who was waiting 
 for them at the corner of one of the paths. He put himself at 
 the head of the procession with an open book in his hand, and 
 as they walked slowly along, he resumed his reading or re- 
 petition of the words of the service. 
 
 He wore an old black cassock and a much soiled and slightly 
 torn surplice. The unseemly appearance of this dirty garment 
 was heightened by the fact that as he had not taken the trouble 
 to adjust it properly, it hung all lop-sided, showing about six 
 inches more of the black cassock at one side than the other. 
 
 He continued his unintelligible jargon while they were 
 lowering the coffin into the grave, and those who happened 
 to know the words of the office by heart were, with some 
 difficulty, able to understand what he was saying: 
 
 4 Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God of His great 
 mercy to take unto Himself the soul of our dear brother here 
 departed, we therefore commit his body to the ground; earth 
 to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust ; ' 
 
 The earth fell from the clerk's hand and rattled on the lid 
 of the coffin with a mournful sound, and when the clergyman 
 had finished repeating the remainder of the service, he turned 
 and walked away in the direction of the church. Hunter and 
 the rest of the funeral party made their way back towards the 
 gate of the cemetery, where the hearse and the carriage were 
 waiting. 
 
 On their way they saw another funeral procession coming 
 towards them. It was a very plain looking closed hearse with 
 only one horse. There was no undertaker in front and no 
 bearers walked by the sides. 
 
 It was a pauper's funeral. 
 
 Three men, evidently dressed in their Sunday clothes, 
 followed the hearse. As they reached the church door, four 
 old men who were dressed in ordinary everyday clothes, came 
 forward and carried the coffin into the church, followed by the 
 other three, who were evidently relatives of the deceased. The 
 four old men were paupers, inmates of the workhouse, who 
 were paid sixpence each for acting as bearers. 
 
 It happened that just as they were taking out the coffin from 
 the hearse Hunter's party passed by, and paused for a moment 
 to watch. 
 
 The roughly made coffin was of white deal, not painted or 
 covered in any way, and devoid of any fittings or ornament 
 
 361
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 with the exception of a square piece of zinc tacked on the lid, 
 upon which was roughly painted in black letters : 
 
 J. L. 
 AGED 67. 
 
 It was Jack Linden's funeral, and his bearers were all re- 
 tired working men who had come into their ' titles,' one of 
 them being old Latham, the Venetian blind maker. 
 
 362
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 THE WISE MEN OF THE EAST 
 
 ABOUT the middle of October an event happened which threw 
 the town into such a state of wild excitement, that the com- 
 paratively unimportant matters of unemployment and distress 
 were almost forgotten. 
 
 Sir Graball D'Encloseland had been chosen for an even 
 higher post in the service of his country, and his promotion 
 made it necessary for him to resign his seat and seek re- 
 election. The ragged trousered Tory workmen, as they loitered 
 about the streets with empty stomachs, said to each other 
 that it was a great honour for Mugsborough that their member 
 should be promoted in this way. They boasted about it, and 
 assumed as much swagger in their gait as their broken boots 
 permitted. They stuck election cards bearing Sir Graball's 
 photograph in their windows, and tied bits of blue and yellow 
 ribbon, Sir Graball's colours, on their under-fed children. 
 
 The Liberals were furious. They said that an election had 
 been sprung upon them; they had been taken a mean advantage 
 of; they had no candidate ready. It wasn't fair either, because 
 while they, the leading Liberals, had been treating the electors 
 with contemptuous indifference, for months past Sir Graball 
 D'Encloseland had been most active amongst his constituents, 
 cunningly preparing for the contest. He had really been elec- 
 tioneering for the past six months. Last winter he had kicked 
 off at quite a number of football matches, besides doing all 
 sorts of things for the local teams. He had joined the Buffaloes 
 and the Druids, been elected president of the Skull and Cross- 
 bones Boys Society, and, although he was not himself an 
 abstainer, he was so friendly to Temperance that he had on 
 several occasions taken the chair at teetotal meetings, to say 
 nothing of the teas to the poor school children and things of 
 that sort. In short, he had been quite an active politician in 
 
 3 6 3
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 the Tory sense of the word for months past, and the poor 
 Liberals had not smelt a rat until the election was sprung 
 upon them. 
 
 A hurried meeting of the Liberal Three Hundred was held, 
 and a deputation sent to London to find a candidate, but as 
 there was only a week before polling day they were unsuc- 
 cessful in their mission. Another meeting was held, presided 
 over by Mr Adam Sweater, Rushton and Didlum also being 
 present. 
 
 Profound dejection prevailed as the meeting listened to the 
 delegates' report. The sombre silence that followed was broken 
 at length by Mr Rushton, who suddenly started up and said 
 that he began to think they had made a mistake in going out- 
 side the constituency at all to look for a man. Precious time 
 had been wasted running about all over the country, begging 
 and praying for a candidate, and overlooking the fact that they 
 had in their midst a gentleman, a fellow townsman, who, he 
 believed, would have a better chance of success than any 
 stranger. Surely they would all agree, if they could only pre- 
 vail upon him to stand, that Adam Sweater would be an ideal 
 Liberal Candidate ! 
 
 While Mr Rushton was speaking the drooping spirits of the 
 Three Hundred were reviving, and at the name of Sweater 
 they all began to clap their hands and stamp their feet. Loud 
 shouts of enthusiastic approval burst forth, and cries of ' Good 
 old Sweater ' resounded through the room. 
 
 When Sweater rose to reply, the tumult died away as 
 suddenly as it had commenced. He thanked them for the 
 honour they were conferring upon him. There was no time to 
 waste in words or idle compliments ; rather than allow the 
 enemy to have a walk over, he would accede to their request 
 and contest the seat. 
 
 A roar of applause burst from the throats of the delighted 
 Three Hundred. 
 
 Outside the hall in which the meeting was being held, a 
 large crowd of poverty-stricken Liberal working men was 
 waiting to hear the report of the deputation, and as soon as 
 Sweater had consented to be nominated, Didlum rushed and 
 opened the window overlooking the street and shouted the 
 good news down to the crowd, which joined in the cheering. 
 In response to their demands for a speech, Sweater came to the 
 window and said a few words, reminding them of the shortness 
 
 364
 
 The Wise Men of the East 
 
 of the time at their disposal, and intreating them to work hard 
 in order that the Grand Old Flag might be carried to victory. 
 
 At such times these people forgot all about unemployment 
 and starvation in their enthusiasm about ' Grand Old Flags '. 
 Their devotion to this flag was so great that the fact that they 
 had carried it to victory so often in the past without 
 obtaining any of the spoils did not seem to damp their ardour 
 in the least. Being philanthropists, they were content, after 
 winning the victory, to let their masters do the looting. 
 
 At the conclusion of Sweater's remarks the philanthropists 
 gave three frantic cheers, and then someone in the crowd 
 shouted : ' What's the colour ? ' After a hasty consultation with 
 Rushton, who being a 'master' decorator was thought to be 
 an authority on colours, green, grass-green was decided 
 upon, and the information was shouted down to the crowd, who 
 cheered again. Then a rush was made to Sweater's Emporium, 
 and several yards of cheap green ribbon were bought and 
 divided up into little pieces, which they tied into their button- 
 holes, and thus appropriately decorated, they formed them- 
 selves into military order, four deep, and marched through all 
 the principal streets, up and down the Grand Parade, round 
 and round the Fountain, and finally over the hill to Windley, 
 singing, to the tune of 'Tramp, tramp, tramp, the Boys 
 are marching ' : 
 
 ' Vote, Vote, Vote for Adam Sweater ! 
 Hang old Closeland on a tree ! 
 Adam Sweater is our man, 
 And we'll have him if we can, 
 Then we'll always have the biggest loaf for tea.' 
 
 The spectacle presented by these men, some of them with 
 grey heads and beards, as they marked time or tramped along 
 singing this childish twaddle, might have been amusing if it 
 had been less pathetic. 
 
 By way of variety they sang several other things, including : 
 
 ' We'll hang ole Closeland 
 On a sour apple tree.' 
 
 and: 
 
 ' Rally, Rally, men of Windley, 
 For Sweater's sure to win.' 
 
 365
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 The town was soon deluged with mendacious literature, 
 and smothered with huge posters : 
 
 'VOTE FOR ADAM SWEATER! 
 THE WORKING-MAN'S FRIEND ! ' 
 
 'VOTE FOR SWEATER AND TEMPERANCE REFORM.' 
 'VOTE FOR SWEATER FREE TRADE AND CHEAP FOOD,' 
 
 or 
 
 'VOTE FOR D'ENCLOSELAND : TARIFF REFORM AND PLENTY 
 OF WORK!' 
 
 This beautiful ideal Plenty of Work appealed strongly 
 to the Tory workmen. All they desired for themselves and their 
 children was 'Plenty of Work.' They marched about the streets 
 singing their Marseillaise: 'Work, Boys, Work and be con- 
 tented,' to the tune of 'Tramp, tramp, tramp the Boys are 
 marching ' ; and at intervals as they tramped along they gave 
 three cheers for Sir Graball, Tariff Reform, and Plenty of 
 Work ! 
 
 Both sides imported gangs of hired orators, who held forth 
 every night at the corners of the principal streets and on the 
 open spaces from portable platforms, motor cars and lorries. 
 The Tories said that the Liberal Party in the House of 
 Commons was composed principally of scoundrels and fools ; 
 the Liberals said the Tory Party were fools and scoundrels. 
 A host of richly dressed canvassers descended upon Windley 
 in carriages and motor cars, and begged for votes from the 
 poverty-stricken working men who lived there. 
 
 One evening a Liberal demonstration was held at the cross 
 roads on Windley hill. Notwithstanding the cold weather 
 there was a great crowd of shabbily dressed people, many of 
 whom had not had a really good meal for months. It was a 
 clear night. The moon was at the full, and the scene was 
 further illuminated by the fitful glare of several torches, stuck 
 on the end of twelve-foot poles. The platform was a large 
 lorry, and there were several speakers, including Adam 
 Sweater himself and a real live Liberal Peer, Lord Ammenegg, 
 This individual had made a considerable fortune in the 
 grocery and provision line, and had been elevated to the 
 peerage by the last Liberal Government on account of his 
 services to the party. 
 
 366
 
 The Wise Men of the East 
 
 Both Sweater and Ammenegg were to speak at two other 
 meetings that night and were not expected at Windley until 
 about eight-thirty, so to keep the ball rolling several other 
 gentlemen, including Rushton, who presided, and Didlum 
 and one of the five-pounds-a-week orators, addressed the 
 meeting. Mingled with the crowd were about twenty rough- 
 looking men, strangers to the town, who wore huge green 
 rosettes and loudly applauded the speakers. They also 
 distributed Sweater literature and cards with lists of the 
 different meetings that were to be held during the election. 
 These men were bullies hired by Sweater's agent. They came 
 from the neighbourhood of Seven Dials, in London, and were 
 paid ten shillings a day. One of their duties was to incite the 
 crowd to bash anyone who disturbed the meetings or tried to 
 put awkward questions to the speakers. 
 
 The hired orator was a tall slight man with dark hair, 
 beard and moustache. He might have been called good-looking 
 if it had not been for an ugly scar upon his forehead, which 
 gave him a rather sinister appearance. He was an effective 
 speaker. The audience punctuated his speech with cheers, 
 and when he wound up with an earnest appeal to them, as 
 working men, to vote for Adam Sweater, their enthusiasm 
 knew no bounds. 
 
 ' I've seen him somewhere before,' remarked Owen, who 
 was standing in the crowd with Harlow and Easton. 
 
 'So have I,' said Harlow, with a puzzled expression, 'but 
 I can't remember where.' 
 
 Easton also thought he had seen the man before, but 
 their speculations were put an end to by the roar of cheering 
 that heralded the arrival of the motor car containing Adam 
 Sweater and his friend, Lord Ammenegg. Unfortunately those 
 who had arranged the meeting had forgotten to provide a 
 pair of steps, so Sweater found it a matter of considerable 
 difficulty to mount the platform. However, while his friends 
 were hoisting and pushing him up, the meeting beguiled the 
 time by singing : 
 
 * Vote, vote, vote for Adam Sweater.' 
 
 When he was in the cart at last, and while he was recover- 
 ing his wind, Rushton made a few remarks to the crowd. 
 Sweater then advanced to the front, but in consequence of 
 the cheering and singing he was unable to make himself 
 
 367
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 heard for several minutes. When at length silence was 
 restored, he made a very clever speech, specially written for 
 him at a cost of ten guineas. A large part of it consisted of 
 warnings against the dangers of Socialism. Sweater had 
 carefully rehearsed this speech and he delivered it very 
 effectively- Some of those Socialists, he said, were well- 
 meaning but mistaken people, who did not realise the harm 
 that would result if their extraordinary ideas were ever put 
 into practice. He lowered his voice to a bloodcurdling stage 
 whisper as he asked : 
 
 ' What is this Socialism that we hear so much about, but 
 which so few understand? What is it, and what does it 
 mean ? ' 
 
 Then, raising his voice till it rang through the air and fell . 
 upon the ears of the assembled multitude like the clanging of 
 a funeral bell, he continued : 
 
 1 It is Madness ! Chaos ! Anarchy ! It means Ruin ! Black 
 Ruin for the rich, and consequently, of course, Blacker Ruin 
 still for the poor ! ' 
 
 As Sweater paused, a thrill of horror ran through the 
 meeting. Men wearing broken boots and with patches upon 
 the seats and knees, and ragged fringes round the bottoms of 
 the legs, of their trousers, grew pale and glanced apprehen- 
 sively at each other. If ever Socialism did come to pass they 
 evidently thought it very probable, that they would have to 
 go without any trousers or boots at all. 
 
 Toil-worn women, most of them dressed in other women's 
 shabby cast-off clothing, weary, tired-looking mothers who 
 fed their children for the most part on adulterated tea, tinned 
 skimmed milk, bread and margarine, grew furious as they 
 thought of the wicked Socialists who were trying to bring 
 Ruin upon them. 
 
 The awful silence that had fallen on the panic-stricken 
 crowd was presently broken by a ragged trousered philan- 
 thropist, who shouted out : 
 
 ' We knows wot they are, sir. Most of 'em is chaps wot's got 
 tired of workin' for their livin', so they wants us to keep 'em.' 
 
 Encouraged by numerous expressions of approval from the 
 other philanthropists, the man continued : 
 
 1 But we ain't such fools as they thinks, and so they'll find 
 out next Monday. Most of 'em wants 'anging, and I wouldn't 
 mind lendin' a 'and with the rope myself.' 
 
 368
 
 The Wise Men of the East 
 
 Applause and laughter greeted these noble sentiments, and 
 Sweater resumed his address, when another man, evidently a 
 Socialist for he was accompanied by three or four others who 
 like himself wore red ties, interrupted and said that he would 
 like to ask him a question. No notice was taken of this request 
 either by Mr Sweater or the chairman, but a few angry cries 
 of ' Order ! ' came from the crowd. Sweater continued, but the 
 man again interrupted, and the cries of the crowd became more 
 threatening. Rushton started up and said that he could not 
 allow the speaker to be interrupted, but if the gentleman would 
 wait till the end of the meeting he would have an opportunity 
 of asking his question then. 
 
 The man said he would wait as desired. Sweater resumed 
 his oration, and presently the interrupter and his friends found 
 themselves surrounded by the gang of hired bullies, who wore 
 the big rosettes and who glared met acingly at them. 
 
 Sweater concluded his speech with an appeal to the crowd 
 to deal a ' Slashing Blow at the Enemy ' next Monday, and 
 then, amid a storm of applause, Lord Ammenegg stepped to 
 the front. He said that he did not intend to inflict a long speech 
 upon them that evening, and as it was nomination day to- 
 morrow he would not be able to have the honour of addressing 
 them again during the election ; but even if he had wished to 
 make a long speech, it would be very difficult after the bril- 
 liant and eloquent address they had just listened to from Mr 
 Sweater, for it seemed to him (Ammenegg) that Adam Sweater 
 had left nothing for anyone else to say. But he would like to 
 tell them of a thought that had occurred to him that evening. 
 They read in the Bible that the Wise Men came from the East. 
 Windley, as they all knew, was the East end of the town. 
 They were the men of the East, and he was sure that next 
 Monday they would prove that they were the Wise Men of 
 the East by voting for Adam Sweater and putting him at the 
 top of the poll with a 'Thumping Majority." 
 
 The Wise Men of the East greeted Ammenegg's remarks 
 with prolonged cheers, and amid the tumult his Lordship and 
 Sweater got into the motor car and cleared off without giving 
 the man with the red tie, or anyone else who desired to ask 
 questions, any opportunity of doing so. Rushton and the other 
 leaders got into another motor car and followed, to take part 
 in another meeting down town. 
 
 The crowd now resolved itself into military order, headed 
 2 A 369
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 by the men with torches and a large white banner on which 
 was written in hugh black letters: 'Our man is Adam Sweater. 1 
 They marched down the hill singing, and when they reached 
 the Fountain on the Grand Parade they saw another crowd 
 holding a meeting there. These were Tories, and they became 
 so infuriated at the sound of the Liberal songs and by the 
 sight of the banner that they abandoned their meeting and 
 charged the processionists. Both sides fought like savages, 
 but as the Liberals were outnumbered by about three to one 
 they were driven off the field with great slaughter ; most of 
 the torch poles were taken from them, and the banner was 
 torn to ribbons. Then the Tories went back to the Fountain 
 carrying the captured torches, and singing to the tune of ' Has 
 anyone seen a German Band ' : 
 
 ' Has anyone seen a Lib'ral Flag, 
 Lib'ral Flag, Lib'ral Flag.' 
 
 While the Tories resumed their meeting at the Fountain, 
 the Liberals rallied in one of the back streets. Messengers 
 were sent in various directions for reinforcements, and about 
 half an hour afterwards they emerged from their retreat and 
 swooped down upon the Tory meeting. They overturned the 
 platform, recaptured their torches, tore the enemy's banner to 
 tatters and drove them from their position. Then the Liberals 
 in their turn paraded the streets singing : ' Has anyone seen 
 a Tory Flag.' 
 
 The following evening Owen and a few others of the same 
 way of thinking, who had subscribed enough money between 
 them to purchase a lot of Socialist leaflets, employed them- 
 selves distributing them to the crowds at the Liberal and 
 Tory meetings, and whilst they were doing this they frequent- 
 ly became involved in arguments with the supporters of the 
 capitalist system. In their attempts to persuade others to 
 refrain from voting for either of the candidates, they were 
 opposed even by some who professed to believe in Socialism, 
 who said that as there was no Socialist candidate the thing 
 to do was to vote for the better of the two. This was the view 
 of Harlow and Easton, whom they met. Harlow had a green 
 ribbon in his buttonhole, but Easton wore D'Encloseland's 
 colours. 
 
 One man said that if he had his way all those who had 
 votes should be compelled to record them, whether they liked 
 
 370
 
 The Wise Men of the East 
 
 it or not, or be disfranchised ! Owen asked him if he believed 
 in Tariff Reform. The man said no. 
 
 1 Why not ? ' demanded Owen. 
 
 The other replied that he opposed Tariff Reform because 
 he believed it would ruin the country. Owen inquired if he 
 were a supporter of Socialism. The man said he was not ; and 
 when further questioned he said that he believed if it were 
 ever adopted it would bring black ruin upon the country. He 
 believed this because Mr Sweater had said so. When Owen 
 asked him, supposing there were only two candidates, one a 
 Socialist and the other a Tariff Reformer, how he would like 
 to be compelled to vote for one of them, he was at a loss for 
 an answer. 
 
 At considerable danger to themselves, Owen and the other 
 Socialists continued to distribute their leaflets and to heckle 
 the Liberal and Tory speakers. They asked the Tories to 
 explain the prevalence of unemployment and poverty in 
 protected countries like Germany and America ; and at 
 Sweater's meetings they requested to be informed what was 
 the Liberal remedy for unemployment. From both parties 
 the Socialists obtained the same kinds of answers : threats of 
 violence and requests ' not to disturb the meeting.' 
 
 These Socialists held quite a lot of informal meetings of 
 their own. Every now and then when they were giving their 
 leaflets away some unwary supporter of the capitalist system 
 would start an argument, and soon a crowd would gather 
 round and listen. 
 
 Sometimes the Socialists succeeded in arguing their 
 opponents to an absolute standstill, for the Liberals and 
 Tories found it impossible to deny that machinery is the cause 
 of the overcrowded state of the labour market ; that the 
 overcrowded labour market is the cause of unemploy- 
 ment; and that the fact of there being always an army of 
 unemployed waiting to take other men's jobs away from 
 them destroys the independence of those who are in 
 employment, and keeps them in subjection to their masters. 
 They found it impossible to deny that this machinery is being 
 "used, not for the benefit of all, but to make fortunes for a 
 few. In short, they were unable to disprove that the 
 monopoly of the land and machinery by comparatively few 
 persons is the cause of the poverty of the majority. But 
 when they were faced with unanswerable arguments they 
 
 371
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 would begin to shout and bluster about some utterly 
 unimportant side issue ; and in the angry wrangle that ensued 
 the original subject would be overlooked. 
 
 Usually after one of these arguments Owen would wander 
 off by himself, with his head throbbing and a feeling of un- 
 utterable depression and misery at his heart, weighed down 
 by a growing conviction of the hopelessness of everything, of 
 the folly of expecting that his fellow workmen would ever be 
 willing to try to understand for themselves the causes that 
 produced their sufferings. They did not want to know, they 
 did not want to understand ; it seemed as if they feared rather 
 than welcomed the prospect of deliverance, and scorned and 
 hated their would-be deliverers. 
 
 One night about nine o'clock Owen was in a large Liberal 
 crowd, listening to the same hired orator who had spoken a 
 few evenings before on the hill, the man with the scar on his 
 forehead. The crowd was applauding him loudly and Owen 
 again fell to wondering where he had seen this man before, 
 and presently he remembered that this was one of the Social- 
 ists who had come with the band of cyclists into the town that 
 Sunday morning, at the beginning of the summer the man 
 who had come afterwards with the van, and who had been 
 struck down by a stone while attempting to speak from the 
 platform. Though the Socialist had been clean shaven, and 
 this man wore beard and moustache, Owen was certain that 
 it was he. 
 
 At the conclusion of his speech the hired orator got down 
 and stood in the shade behind the platform, while someone 
 else addressed the meeting, and Owen went round to where 
 he was standing, intending to speak to him. 
 
 All around them, pandemonium reigned supreme. They 
 were in the vicinity of the Fountain on the Grand Parade, 
 where several roads met. There was a meeting going on at 
 every corner, and a number of others in different parts of the 
 roadway and on the pavement of the parade. 
 
 Every now and then some of these poor wretches they 
 were all paid speakers were surrounded and savagely mauled 
 and beaten by a hostile crowd. If they were Tariff Reformers 
 the Liberals mobbed them ; and vice versa. Lines of rowdies 
 swaggered to and fro, arm in arm, singing ' Vote, Vote, Vote, 
 for good ole Closeland,' or 'good ole Sweater,' according to 
 their colours. Gangs of hooligans paraded up and down, armed 
 
 372
 
 The Wise Men of the East 
 
 with sticks, singing, howling, cursing and looking for some- 
 body to hit. 
 
 The walls were covered with huge Liberal and Tory posters 
 which showed in every line the contempt of those who pub- 
 lished them for the intelligence of the working men to whom 
 they were addressed. 
 
 When Owen got round to the back of the platform, he found 
 the man with the scarred face standing alone, gloomily silent, 
 in the shadow. Owen gave him one of the Socialist leaflets, 
 which he took, and after glancing at it, put it in his coat 
 pocket without making any remark. 
 
 1 1 hope you'll excuse me for asking, but were you not 
 formerly a Socialist ? ' said Owen. 
 
 Even in the semi-darkness he saw the other man flush 
 deeply and then become very pale, while the unsightly scar 
 upon his forehead showed with ghastly distinctness. 
 
 1 1 am still a Socialist/ he replied. ' No man who has once 
 been a Socialist can ever cease to be one.' 
 
 ' You seem to have accomplished that impossibility, to judge 
 by the work you are doing at present,' remarked Owen. 
 
 ' No one who has once been a Socialist can ever cease to 
 be one, 'repeated the other. 'It is impossible for a man who 
 has once acquired knowledge to relinquish it. A Socialist is 
 one who understands the causes of the misery and degradation 
 around us ; who not only knows the remedy, but knows that 
 that remedy must eventually be adopted ; but it does not 
 follow that everyone who has sense enough to acquire that 
 amount of knowledge, must, in addition, be willing to sacrifice 
 himself in order to help to bring that state of society into 
 being. When I first acquired that knowledge,' he continued, 
 bitterly, ' I was eager to tell the good news to others. I sacri- 
 ficed my time, my money and my health, in order that I 
 might teach others what I had learned myself. I did it will- 
 ingly and happily, because I thought they would be glad to 
 hear, and that they were worth the sacrifices I made for their 
 sakes. Now I know better.' 
 
 1 Even if you no longer believe in working for Socialism, 
 there's no need to work against it,' said Owen. ' If you don't 
 want to help to bring about a better state of affairs, there's no 
 reason why you should help to perpetuate the present system.' 
 
 The other man laughed bitterly. 'Oh, yes there is, and a 
 very good reason too.' 
 
 373
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 ' I don't think you could show me a good reason,' said Owen. 
 
 The man with the scar laughed again, the same unpleasant, 
 mirthless laugh, and thrusting his hand into his trouser pocket 
 drew it out again full of silver coins, amongst which one or 
 two gold pieces glittered. 
 
 'That is my reason. When I devoted my life and what 
 abilities I possess to the service of my fellow workmen, when 
 I sought to teach them how to break their chains, when I tried 
 to show them how they might save their children from poverty 
 and shameful servitude, I did not want them to give me money. 
 I did it for love. And they paid me with hatred and injury. 
 But since I have been helping their masters to rob them, they 
 have treated me with respect.' 
 
 Owen made no reply and the other man, having returned 
 the money to his pocket, indicated the crowd with a sweep of 
 his hand. 
 
 ' Look at them ! ' he continued with a contemptuous laugh. 
 ' Look at them, the people you are trying to make idealists of! 
 Look at them ! Some of them howling and roaring like wild 
 beasts, or laughing like idiots ; others standing with dull and 
 stupid faces devoid of any trace of intelligence or expression, 
 listening to the speakers whose words convey no meaning to 
 their stultified minds ; and others with their eyes gleaming 
 with savage hatred of their fellow men, watching eagerly for 
 an opportunity to provoke a quarrel that they may gratify 
 their brutal natures by striking someone their eyes are 
 hungry for the sight of blood ! Can't you see that these 
 people, whom you are trying to make understand your plan 
 for the regeneration of the world, your doctrine of universal 
 brotherhood and love, are for the most part, intellectually, on 
 a level with Hottentots ? The only things they feel any real 
 interest in are beer, football, betting and, of course, one other 
 subject their highest ambition is to be allowed to Work. 
 And they desire nothing better for their children ! These are 
 the people who you hope to inspire with lofty ideals ! You 
 might just as well try to make a gold brooch out of a lump of 
 dung ! Try to reason with them, to uplift them, to teach them 
 the way to higher things, devote your whole life and in- 
 telligence to the work of trying to get better conditions for 
 them, and you will find that they themselves are the enemy 
 you will have to fight against. They'll hate you, and, if they 
 get the chance, they'll tear you to pieces. But if you're a 
 
 374
 
 The Wise Men of the East 
 
 sensible man you'll use whatever talents and intelligence you 
 possess for your own benefit. Don't think about Socialism or 
 any other- "ism." Concentrate your mind on getting money, 
 it doesn't matter how you get it. If you can't get it honestly, 
 get it dishonestly ; but get it ! It is the only thing that counts. 
 Do as I do rob them, exploit them, and then they'll have 
 some respect for you ! ' 
 
 'There's something in what you say,' replied Owen after 
 a long pause, ' but it's not all. Circumstances make us what 
 we are. And anyhow the children are worth fighting for.' 
 
 ' You may think so now,' said the other, ' but you'll come to 
 see it my way some day. As for the children, if their parents 
 are satisfied to let them grow up to be half-starved drudges 
 for other people, I don't see why you or I need trouble about 
 it. If you like to listen to reason,' he continued after a pause, 
 1 1 can put you on to something that will be worth more to 
 you than all your Socialism. 1 
 
 4 What do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' Look here : you're a Socialist. Well, I'm a Socialist too : 
 that is, I have sense enough to believe that Socialism is 
 practical and inevitable and right. It will come when the 
 majority of the people are sufficiently enlightened to demand 
 it, but that enlightenment will never be brought about by 
 reasoning or arguing with them, for these people are simply 
 not intellectually capable of abstract reasoning ; they can't 
 grasp theories. You know what the late Lord Salisbury said 
 about them when somebody proposed to give them some free 
 libraries. He said: " They don't want libraries : give them a 
 circus." You see these Liberals and Tories understand the 
 sort of people they have to deal with ; they know that although 
 their bodies are the bodies of grown men, their minds are the 
 minds of little children. That is why it has been possible to 
 deceive and bluff and rob them for so long. But your party 
 persists in regarding them as rational beings, and that's where 
 you make a mistake ; you're simply wasting your time. 
 
 1 The only way in which it is possible to teach these people 
 is by means of object lessons, and those are being placed 
 before them in increasing numbers every day. 
 
 ' The trustification of industry, the object lesson which 
 demonstrates the possibility of collective ownership, will in 
 time compel even these to understand, and by the time they 
 have learnt that they will also have learned, by bitter 
 
 375
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 experience and not from theoretical teaching, that they must 
 either own the trusts or perish ; and then, and not till then, 
 they will achieve Socialism. But meanwhile we have this 
 election. Do you think it will make any real difference, for 
 good or evil, which of these two men is elected ? ' 
 
 ' No,' replied Owen. 
 
 1 Well, you can't keep them both out, you have no candidate 
 of your own, why should you object to earning a few pounds 
 by helping one of them to get in ? There are plenty of voters 
 who are doubtful what to do. As you and I know, there is 
 every excuse for them being unable to make up their minds 
 which of these two candidates is the worse. A word from your 
 party would decide them. Since you have no candidate of 
 your own you will be doing no harm to Socialism, and you 
 will be doing yourself a bit of good. If you like to come along 
 with me now, I'll introduce you to Sweater's agent, no one 
 need know anything about it.' 
 
 He slipped his arm through Owen's but the latter released 
 himself. 
 
 ' Please yourself,' said the other with an affectation of in- 
 difference; 'you know your own business best. You may 
 choose to be a Jesus Christ if you like, but for my part I'm 
 finished. For the future I intend to look after myself. As for 
 these people, they vote for what they want ; they get what they 
 vote for, and, by God, they deserve nothing better ! They are 
 being beaten with whips of their own choosing, and if I had 
 my way they should be beaten with scorpions ! For them, the 
 present system means joyless drudgery, semi-starvation, rags 
 and premature death. They vote for it all and uphold it. Well, 
 let them have what they vote for, let them drudge, let them 
 starve ! ' 
 
 The man with the scarred face ceased speaking, and for 
 some moments Owen did not reply. 
 
 ' I suppose there is some excuse for your feeling as you do, 
 he said slowly at last, ' but it seems to me that you do not 
 make enough allowance for the circumstances. From their 
 infancy most of them have been taught to regard themselves 
 and their own class with contempt, as inferior animals, and 
 to regard those who possess wealth with veneration, as 
 superior beings. The idea that they are really human creatures, 
 naturally absolutely the same as their so-called betters, is an 
 idea they have been taught to regard as preposterous. Your 
 
 376
 
 The Wise Men of the East 
 
 resentment should be directed against the deceivers, not the 
 dupes.' 
 
 The other man laughed bitterly. 
 
 4 Well, go and try to undeceive them,' he said, as he 
 returned to the platform in response to a call from one of his 
 associates ; ' go and try to teach them that the Supreme Being 
 made the earth and all its fulness for the use and benefit of 
 all His children. Go and try to explain to them that they are 
 poor in body and mind and social condition, not because of 
 any natural inferiority, but because they have been robbed of 
 their inheritance. Go and try to show them how to secure 
 that inheritance for themselves and their children and see 
 how grateful they'll be to you.' 
 
 For the next hour Owen walked about the crowded streets 
 in a dispirited fashion. His conversation with the renegade 
 seemed to have taken all the heart out of him. He still had 
 a number of the leaflets, but the task of distributing them had 
 suddenly grown distasteful, and after a while he discontinued 
 it. All his enthusiasm was gone. Like one awakened from 
 a dream he saw the people who surrounded him in a different 
 light. For the first time he properly appreciated the offensive- 
 ness of most of those to whom he offered the handbills : some, 
 without even troubling to ascertain what they were about, 
 rudely refused to accept them ; some took them and after 
 glancing at the printing threw them away, or rejected them 
 with contempt or abuse. 
 
 Monday was polling day and the result was to be shown 
 on an illuminated sign at the Town Hall at eleven o'clock at 
 night. Long before that hour a vast crowd gathered in the 
 adjacent streets, and, in spite of the rain, increased in numbers 
 as the time went by. At a quarter to eleven the shower changed 
 to a terrible downpour, but the people remained waiting to 
 know which flag had been carried to victory. Eleven o'clock 
 came and an intense silence fell upon the crowd, whose eyes 
 were fixed eagerly upon the window where the sign was to 
 be exhibited. To judge by the extraordinary interest mani- 
 fested on all sides one might have thought the saturated 
 multitude was waiting to hear of some great personal benefit, 
 instead of being perfectly aware that this election would make 
 no more difference to them than former ones had done. At a 
 quarter past eleven the sign was illuminated but the figures 
 were not yet shown. Next the names of the two candidates 
 
 377
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 slid into sight. The figures were still missing but D'Encolse- 
 land's name was on top, and a hoarse roar of triumph came 
 from the throats of his admirers. Then the two slides with the 
 names were withdrawn, and the sign was again left blank. 
 After a time the people grew unable to restrain their frantic 
 impatience, and some of them began to groan and hoot. 
 
 After a few minutes the names again slid into view, this 
 time with Sweater's name on top, and the figures appeared 
 immediately afterwards. 
 
 SWEATER . . . .4221 
 
 D'EiMCLOSELAND . . .4200 
 
 It was several seconds before the Liberals could believe 
 their eyes : it was too good to be true. It is impossible to say 
 what actually inspired the wild outburst of frenzied enthusiasm 
 that followed, but, whatever the reason, they were all cheering 
 and dancing and shaking hands with each other, and some of 
 them were so overcome with joy and emotion that they were 
 literally unable to speak. 
 
 A few minutes after the declaration Sweater appeared at 
 the window and made a sort of a speech, but only fragments 
 of it were audible to the yelling crowd who at intervals caught 
 such phrases as ' Slashing Blow,' ' Sweep the country,' ' Grand 
 old Liberal Flag,' and so on. Next D'Encloseland appeared, 
 and he was seen to shake hands with Mr Sweater, whom he 
 referred to as ' My friend '. 
 
 When the two ' friends ' disappeared from the window, the 
 part of the Liberal crowd that was not engaged in hand to 
 hand fights with their enemies the Tories made a rush to 
 the front entrance of the Town Hall where Sweater's carriage 
 was waiting, and as soon as he had placed his plump rotundity 
 inside they unharnessed the horses and, amid frantic cheers, 
 dragged it through the mud and pouring rain all the way to 
 ' The Cave ' ; but as most of them were accustomed to acting 
 as beasts of burden the experience brought no novelty with 
 it 
 
 Then, having successfully carried the 'grand old flag to 
 victory,' the electors, drenched, exhausted and covered with 
 mud from head to foot, toiled back to their wretched homes. 
 
 378
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 THE WIDOW'S SON 
 
 WHILE painting the conservatory in Sweater's house in bitterly 
 cold weather Owen caught such a severe chill that he was 
 obliged to take his overcoat out of pawn. Although he had 
 been luckier than most of his mates in getting odd jobs at 
 Rushton's, he had never been able to save any money. All 
 through the summer most of his wages had gone to pay off 
 arrears of rent and other debts, and now that the winter was 
 upon them and work was very scarce his Saturday pay 
 amounted to half a sovereign, seven-and-six, five shillings, or 
 even less. 
 
 One morning he did not get to the yard till ten o'clock and 
 felt so ill that he would not have gone at all if they had not 
 been in sore need of all the money he could earn. The least ex- 
 ertion brought on aviolent fit of coughing, and it was only by an 
 almost superhuman effort of will that he managed to get 
 through his work. When he arrived at the yard he found Bert 
 White cleaning out the dirty pots in the paint shop. The noise 
 he made with the scraping knife prevented him hearing Owen's 
 approach, and the latter stood watching him for some minutes 
 without speaking. The stone floor of the paint shop was damp 
 and slimy and the whole place as chilly as a tomb. The boy 
 was trembling with cold, and he looked pitifully undersized 
 and frail as he bent over his work with an old apron girt about 
 him. Although it was so cold he had turned back the sleeves 
 of his jacket to keep them clean, or to prevent them getting 
 any dirtier, for like the rest of his attire they were thickly 
 encrusted with dried paint of many colours. 
 
 He was wearing a man's coat and a pair of skimpy, boy's 
 trousers, and his thin legs appearing under the big jacket gave 
 him a grotesque appearance. There were smears of paint on 
 his face, and his hands and finger nails were grimed with it. 
 But most pitiful of all were his dreadful hob-nailed boots, the 
 
 379
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 uppers of which were an eighth of an inch thick and very stiff. 
 Across the front of the boot the leather had warped into ridges 
 and valleys which chafed his chilblained feet and made them 
 bleed. The soles were five-eigths of an inch thick, hard and 
 inflexible, and almost as heavy as iron, and studded with hob 
 nails. 
 
 As he watched the poor boy bending over his task Owen 
 thought of Frankie, and with a feeling akin to terror wondered 
 whether he would ever be in a similar plight. 
 
 When Bert saw Owen he left off working and wished him 
 good morning, remarking that it was very cold. 
 
 1 Why don't you light a fire ? There's lots of wood lying 
 about the yard,' said Owen. 
 
 'No,' replied Bert, shaking his head. 'That would never 
 do ! Misery wouldn't 'arf ramp if 'e caught me at it. I used 
 to 'ave a fire 'ere last winter till Rushton found out, and 'e 
 kicked up an orful row and told me to move meself and get 
 some work done and then I wouldn't feel the cold.' 
 
 'Oh, he said that, did he?' said Owen, his pale face be- 
 coming suddenly suffused with blood. ' We'll see about that.' 
 
 He went out into the yard and crossing over to where, 
 under a shed, there was a great heap of waste wood, stuff 
 that had been taken out of places where Rushton and 
 Company had made alterations, he gathered an armful of it 
 and was returning to the paintshop when Sawkins, who was 
 clearing the place up, accosted him. 
 
 ' You musn't go burnin' any of that, you know ! That's all 
 got to be saved and took up to the bloke's house. Misery 
 spoke about it only this mornin'.' 
 
 Owen did not answer. He carried the wood into the shop 
 and after throwing it into the fireplace he poured some old 
 paint over it, and applying a match produced a roaring fire. 
 Then he brought in several more armfuls of wood and piled 
 them in a corner of the shop. Bert took no part in these 
 proceedings, and at first rather disapproved of them because 
 he was afraid there would be trouble when Misery came, but 
 when the fire was an accomplished fact he warmed his hands 
 and shifted his work to the other side of the bench so as to 
 get the benefit of the heat. 
 
 Owen waited for about half-an-hour to see if Hunter would 
 return, but as he did not appear, he decided not to wait any 
 longer. Before leaving he gave Bert some instructions : 
 
 380
 
 The Widow's Son 
 
 ' Keep up the fire with all the old paint that you can scrape 
 off those things and an}' other old paint or rubbish that's here, 
 and whenever it grows dull put more wood on. There's a lot 
 of stuff here that's of no use except to be thrown away or 
 burnt. Burn it all. If Hunter says anything, tell him that I lit 
 the fire, and that I told you to keep it burning. If you want 
 more wood, go out and take it.' 
 
 1 All right,' replied Bert. 
 
 On his way out Owen spoke to Sawkins. His manner was 
 so menacing, his face so pale, and there was such a strange 
 glare in his eyes, that the latter thought of the talk there had 
 often been about Owen being mad, and felt half afraid of him. 
 
 ' I am going to the office to see Rushton. If Hunter comes 
 here you say I told you to tell him that if I find the boy in 
 that shop again without a fire I'll report it to the Society for 
 the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. And as for you, if the 
 boy comes out here to get more wood, don't you attempt to 
 interefere with him.' 
 
 ' I don't want to interefere with the bloody kid,' grunted 
 Sawkins. ' It seems to me as if he's gorn orf 'is bloody 
 crumpet,' he added, as he watched Owen walking rapidly 
 down the street. ' I can't understand why people can't mind 
 their own business. Anyone would think the boy belonged 
 to Vw.' 
 
 That was just how the matter presented itself to Owen. 
 The idea that it was his own child who was to be treated in 
 this way possessed and infuriated him as he strode savagely 
 along. In the vicinity of the Grand Parade he passed, without 
 seeing them, several groups of unemployed artizans whom he 
 knew. Some of them were offended and remarked that he 
 was getting stuck up, but others, observing how strange he 
 looked, repeated the old prophecy that one of these days 
 Owen would go out of his mind. 
 
 As he drew near to his destination large flakes of snow be- 
 gan to fall. He walked so rapidly and was in such a fury that 
 by the time he reached the shop he was scarcely able to speak. 
 
 'Is Hunter or Rushton here?' he demanded of the 
 shopman. 
 
 ' Hunter isn't, but the guvner is. What was it you wanted ? ' 
 
 1 He'll soon know that,' panted Owen as he strode up to 
 the office door, and without troubling to knock, flung it 
 violently open and entered.
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 The atmosphere of this place was very different from that 
 of the damp cellar where Bert was working. An asbestos gas 
 fire threw out a genial warmth, and the air was fragrant with 
 the cigar that Rushton was smoking, as he looked through 
 his letters. 
 
 Owen stood panting and quivering in the middle of the 
 office and pointed a trembling finger at his employer : 
 
 4 I've come here to tell you that if I find young 
 Bert White working down in that shop without a fire 
 I'll have you prosecuted. The place is not good enough for 
 a stable if you owned a valuable dog you wouldn't keep 
 it there . I give you fair warning I know enough 
 about you to put you where you deserve to be if 
 you don't treat him better I'll have you punished I'll 
 show you up.' 
 
 Rushton continued to stare at him in mingled confusion, 
 fear and perplexity. He did not yet comprehend exactly what 
 it was all about. The fact that he was guiltily conscious of 
 having done so many things which he might be shown up or 
 prosecuted for if they were known helped to reduce him 
 to a condition approaching terror. 
 
 4 If the boy has been there without a fire I haven't known 
 anything about it,' he stammered at last. 'Mr 'Uunter has 
 charge of all those matters.' 
 
 ' You yourself forbade him to make a fire last winter 
 and anyhow you know about it now . You obtained 
 money from his mother under the pretence that you were 
 going to teach him a trade but for the last twelve months 
 you have been using him as if he were a beast of 
 burden. I advise you to see to it or I shall find means 
 to make you sorry.' 
 
 With this Owen turned and went out, leaving the door 
 open and Rushton in a state of mind compounded of fear, 
 amazement and anger. 
 
 As he walked homewards through the snow storm, Owen 
 began to realise that Rushton would not give him any more 
 work after this, and as he reflected on all it would mean to 
 those at home for a moment he doubted whether he had done 
 i ight. But when he told Nora what had happened she said 
 cheerfully that there were plenty of other firms in the town 
 who would employ him, when they had the work. He had done 
 without Rushton before and could do so again ; for her part, 
 
 382
 
 The Widow's Son 
 
 whatever the consequences might be, she was glad that he 
 had acted as he did. 
 
 'We'll get through somehow, I suppose,' said Owen, 
 wearily. 'There's not much chance of getting a job anywhere 
 else just now, but I shall try to get some work on my own 
 account. I shall do some samples of show cards the same as 
 I did last winter and try to get orders from some of the shops 
 they usually want something extra at this time. But I'm 
 afraid it is rather too late : most of them already have all 
 they want.' 
 
 1 1 shouldn't go out again to-day if I were you,' said Nora, 
 noticing how ill he looked, ' You should stay at home and 
 read, or write up those minutes.' 
 
 The minutes referred to were those of the last meeting of 
 the local branch of the Painters' Society of which Owen was 
 the secretary, and as the snow continued to fall, he occupied 
 himself after dinner in the manner his wife suggested, until 
 four o'clock, when Frankie returned from school bringing 
 with him a large snowball, and crying out as a piece of good 
 news that the snow was still falling heavily, and that he 
 believed it was freezing ! 
 
 They went to bed very early that night for it was necessary 
 to economise the coal, and because, as the rooms were so near 
 the roof, it was not possible to keep the place warm however 
 much coal was used. The fire seemed, if anything, to make 
 the place colder, for it caused the outer air to pour in through 
 the joints of the ill fitting doors and windows. 
 
 Owen lay awake for the greater part of the night. The 
 terror of the future made rest or sleep impossible. He got up 
 very early the next morning, long before it was light, and 
 after lighting the fire, set about preparing the samples he 
 had mentioned to Nora, but found that it would not be 
 possible to do much in this direction without buying more 
 cardboard. 
 
 They breakfasted on bread and butter and tea. Frankie 
 had his in bed, and it was decided to keep him away from 
 school until after dinner because the weather was so very 
 cold and his only pair of boots were so saturated from having 
 been out in the snow the previous day. 
 
 ' I shall make a few enquiries to see if there's any other 
 work to be had before I buy the cardboard,' said Owen, 
 ' although I'm afraid it's not much use.' 
 
 383
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 When he was preparing to go out, the front door bell rang, 
 and as he was going down to answer it he saw Bert V" 
 coming upstairs. The boy was carrying a flat brown j 
 parcel under his arm. 
 
 4 A corfin plate,' he explained as he arrived at the door. 
 4 Wanted at once Misery ses you can do it at 'ome, an' I've 
 got to wait for it.' 
 
 Owen and his wife looked at each other with intense relief. 
 So he was not to be dismissed after all. It was almost too 
 good to be true. 
 
 4 There's a piece of paper inside the parcel with the name 
 of the party what's dead,' continued Bert, 4 and here's a little 
 bottle of brunswick black for you to do the inscription with.' 
 
 4 Did he send any other message ? ' 
 
 4 Yes : 'e told me to tell you there's a job to be started 
 Monday morning a couple of rooms to be done out some- 
 where. Got to be finished by Thursday. And there's another 
 job 'e wants you to do this afternoon after dinner, so you've 
 got to come to the yard at one o'clock. 'E told me to tell you 
 'e meant to leave a message for you yesterday morning but 
 'e forgot.' 
 
 4 What did he say to you about the fire anything ? ' 
 
 4 Yes : they both of 'em came about an hour after you went 
 away, Misery and the Bloke too, but they didn't kick up a 
 row. 1 wasn't arf frightened I can tell you when I saw 'em both 
 coming, but they was quite nice. The Bloke ses to me : 4l Ah, 
 that's right, my boy," 'e ses, 4l keep up a good fire, I'm going 
 to send you some coke," 'e ses. And then they 'ad a look 
 round and 'e told Sawkins to put some new panes of glass 
 where the winder was broken, and you know that great 
 big packing case what was under the truck shed ? ' 
 
 | Yes.' 
 
 4 Well, 'e told Sawkins to saw it up and cover over the 
 stone floor of the paint shop with it. It ain't 'arf all right 
 there now. I've cleared out all the muck from under the 
 benches and we've got two sacks of coke sent from the gas 
 works, and the Bloke told me when that's all used up I've 
 got to get a order orf Miss Wade at the office for another 
 lot.' 
 
 At one o'clock Owen was at the yard, where he saw 
 Misery, who instructed him to go to the front shop and paint 
 some numbers on the racks where the wall papers were stored. 
 
 384
 
 The Widow's Son 
 
 Whilst he was doing this work Rushton came in and greeted 
 him in a very friendly way. 
 
 ' I'm very glad you let me know about the boy working in 
 that paint shop,' he observed after a few preliminary remarks ; 
 ' I can assure you as I don't want the lad to be uncomfortable, 
 but you know I can't attend to heverything myself. I'm much 
 obliged to you for telling me about it. I think you did quite 
 right ; I should have done the same myself.' 
 
 Owen did not know what to reply, but Rushton walked off 
 without waiting for one. 
 
 For many weeks past Hunter, who had been looking more 
 worried and miserable than ever, was occupied every day in 
 supervising what work was being done and in running 
 about seeking for more. Nearly every night he remained at 
 the office until a late hour, poring over specifications and 
 making out estimates. The police had become so accustomed 
 to seeing the light in the office that as a rule they took no 
 notice of it, but one Thursday night exactly one week after 
 the scene between Owen and Rushton about the boy the 
 constable on the beat observed the light there much later 
 than usual. At first he paid no particular attention to the fact, 
 but when night merged into morning and the light still 
 remained, his curiosity was aroused. 
 
 He knocked at the door, but no one came in answer, and 
 no sound disturbed the deathlike stillness that reigned within. 
 The door was locked, but he was not able to tell whether it had 
 been closed from the inside or outside because it had a spring 
 latch. The office window was low down, but it was not possible 
 to see in because the back of the glass had been painted. 
 
 The constable thought that the most probable explanation 
 of the mystery was that whoever had been there earlier in the 
 evening had forgotten to turn out the light when they went 
 away. It was not likely that thieves or anyone who had no 
 business to be there would advertise their presence by lighting 
 the gas. 
 
 He made a note of the incident in his pocket book and was 
 about to resume his beat when he was joined by his inspector. 
 The latter agreed that the conclusion arrived at by the con- 
 stable was probably the right one, and they were about to 
 pass on when the inspector noticed a speck of light shining 
 through the lower part of the painted window, where a 
 small piece of the paint, had either been scratched or had 
 
 2B 385
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 shelled off the glass. He knelt down and found that it was 
 possible to get a view of the interior of the office, and as 
 he peered through he gave a low exclamation. When he made 
 way for his subordinate to look in his turn, the constable was 
 with some difficulty able to distinguish the figure of a man 
 lying prone upon the floor. 
 
 It was an easy task for the burly policeman to force open 
 the office door. A single push of his shoulder wrenched it from 
 its fastenings, and as it flew back the socket of the lock fell 
 with a splash into a great pool of blood that had accumulated 
 against the threshold, flowing from the place where Hunter 
 was lying on his back, his arms extended and his head nearly 
 severed from his body. On the floor, close to his right hand, 
 was an open razor. An overturned chair lay on the floor by 
 the side of the table where he usually worked, the table itself 
 being littered with papers and drenched with blood. 
 
 During the next few days Crass resumed the role he had 
 played when Hunter was ill during the summer, taking charge 
 of the work and generally doing his best to fill the dead man's 
 place, although as he confided to certain of his cronies in 
 the bar of the ' Cricketer's ' he had no intention of allowing 
 Rushton to drive him to do the same as Hunter had done. 
 One of his first jobs, on the morning after the discovery of 
 the body, was to go with Mr Rushton to look over a house 
 where some work was to be done for which an estimate had 
 to be given. It was the estimate that Hunter had been trying 
 to make out the previous evening in the office, for they found 
 that the papers on his table were covered with figures and 
 writing relating to this work. These papers justified the sub- 
 sequent verdict of the coroner's jury that Hunter committed 
 suicide in a fit of temporary insanit}', for they were covered 
 with a lot of meaningless scribbling, the words having no in- 
 telligible connection with each other. There was one sum he 
 had evidently tried to do repeatedly but which came wrong 
 in a different way every time. The fact that he had the razor 
 in his possession seemed to point to his having premeditated 
 the act, but this was accounted for at the inquest by the evid- 
 ence of the last person who saw him alive, a hairdresser, who 
 stated that Hunter had left the razor with him to be 
 sharpened a few days previously and that he had called for it 
 on the evening of the tragedy. He had ground the razor for Mr 
 I lunter several times before. 
 
 386
 
 The Widow's Son 
 
 Crass took charge of all the arrangements for the funeral. 
 He bought a new second-hand pair of black trousers at a cast- 
 off clothing shop in honour of the occasion, and discarded his 
 own low-crowned silk hat which was getting rather shabby 
 in favour of Hunter's tall one which he found in the office and 
 annexed without hesitation or scruple. It was rather large for 
 him, but he put some folded strips of paper inside the leather 
 lining. Crass was a proud man as he walked in Hunter's place 
 at the head of the procession, trying to look solemn, but with 
 a half smile on his fat, pasty face, which was destitute of 
 colour except one spot on his chin near his under lip, where 
 there was a small patch of inflammation about the size of a 
 threepenny piece. This spot had been there for a very long 
 time. At first, as well as he could remember, it was only a 
 small pimple, but it had grown larger, with something the 
 appearance of scurvy. Crass attributed its persistency to the 
 cold having 'got into it last winter,' but this was rather 
 strange, because he generally took care of himself in cold 
 weather, always wearing the warm wrap that had formerly 
 belonged to the old lady who died of cancer. However, Crass 
 did not worry much about this little sore place, he just put 
 some zinc ointment on it occasionally and had no doubt that 
 it would get well in time. 
 
 387
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 THE END 
 
 ABOUT the middle of December there was a heavy fall of snow 
 followed by a hard frost lasting several days. At ten o'clock 
 one night a policeman found a man lying unconscious in the 
 middle of a lonely road. At first he thought he was drunk, and 
 after dragging him on to the footpath out of the way of passing 
 vehicles he went for the stretcher. They took the man to 
 the station and put him into a cell, already occupied by a 
 man who had been caught in the act of stealing swede turnips 
 from a barn. When the police surgeon came he pronounced 
 the supposed drunken man to be dying from bronchitis and 
 starvation ; and further said that there was nothing to indi- 
 cate that the man was addicted to drink. At the inquest the 
 coroner remarked that it was the third case of death from 
 destitution that had occurred in the town within six weeks. 
 
 The evidence showed that the man was a plasterer, who had 
 walked from London with the hope of finding work some- 
 where in the country. He had no mone}' in his possession 
 when he was found by the policeman, all that his pockets 
 contained being several pawn-tickets and a letter from his 
 wife. The day before the inquest was held, the man who had 
 been arrested for stealing the turnips had been taken before 
 the magistrates. The poor wretch's defence was that he was 
 starving, but Alderman Grinder, after telling him that starva- 
 tion was no excuse for dishonesty, sentenced him to pay a 
 fine of seven shillings and costs, or go to prison for seven 
 days with hard labour. As the convict had neither money 
 nor friends he went to jail, where he was, after all, better 
 off than most of those who were still outside because they 
 lacked either the courage or the opportunity to steal. 
 
 As time went on the long continued privation began to tell 
 upon Owen and his family. Owen's cough grew worse, his 
 eyes became deeply sunken and of remarkable brillianc3 r , 
 
 388
 
 The End 
 
 and his thin face was always either deathly pale or dyed with 
 a crimson flush. 
 
 Frankie also began to show the effects of being obliged to 
 go so often without his porridge and milk. He became very 
 pale and thin and his long hair came out in handfuls when 
 his mother combed or brushed it. This was a great trouble to 
 the boy, who since hearing the story of Samson read out of 
 the Bible at school had ceased from asking to have his curls 
 cut short, lest he should lose his strength also. He used to 
 test himself by going through a certain exercise he had in- 
 vented with a flat iron, and he was always much relieved 
 when he found that notwithstanding the loss of the porridge, 
 he was still able to lift the iron the proper number of times. 
 But after a while, as he found it became increasing^ difficult, 
 he gave it up altogether, secretly resolving to wait until ' Dad ' 
 had more work to do, so that he could have the porridge and 
 milk again. He was sorry to have to discontinue the exercise, 
 but he said nothing about it to his father or mother because 
 he did not want to ' worry ' them. 
 
 Nora managed to get a 'charing ' job at a boarding house 
 where the servant was laid up. Owen did not want her to go, 
 knowing how physically incapable she was of doing heavy 
 work. On the second day in consequence of continually 
 running up and down stairs with heavy cans of water she 
 was in such intense pain that she was scarcely able to walk 
 home, and for several days afterwards had to lie in bed 
 through a recurrence of her old illness, which caused her to 
 suffer untold agony whenever she tried to stand. 
 
 Alternately dejected and maddened by the knowledge of 
 his own helplessness, Owen went about the town trying to 
 find some other work, but with scant success. He did samples 
 of show cards and window tickets and endeavoured to get 
 orders by canvassing the shops in the town, but this was also 
 a failure, for these people generally had a ticket writer to 
 whom they gave their work, and when he did get a few 
 trifling orders, they were scarcely worth doing at the price. 
 
 He used to feel like a criminal each time he entered a shop 
 to ask for the work, because he realised that in effect, he was 
 saying to them : ' Take your work away from the other man 
 and employ me' He was so conscious of this that it gave 
 him a shamefaced manner, which, coupled as it was 
 with his shabby clothing, did not create a very favourable 
 
 389
 
 The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists 
 
 impression on the shopkeepers, who usually treated him with 
 about as much courtesy as they would have extended to any 
 other sort of beggar. Generally, after a day's canvassing, he 
 returned home unsuccessful and faint with hunger and fatigue. 
 
 One night, when a bitterly cold east wind was blowing, 
 after he had been out on one of these canvassing expeditions, 
 his chest became so bad that he found it almost impossible to 
 speak, because the effort to do so often brought on a violent 
 fit of coughing. A firm of drapers, for whom he had done 
 some show-cards, sent him an order for one which they 
 wanted in a hurry and which must be delivered the next 
 morning, so he stayed up by himself till nearly midnight to 
 do it. As he worked he felt a strange sensation in his chest : 
 it was not exactly a pain, and he would have found it difficult 
 to describe it in words. 
 
 He did not attach much importance to the symptom, think- 
 ing it was caused by the cold he had taken, but he could not 
 help feeling conscious of the strange sensation all the time. 
 
 Frankie had been put to bed that evening at the customary 
 hour, but did not seem to be sleeping as well as usual. Owen 
 could hear him twisting and turning about and uttering little 
 cries in his sleep. He left his work several times to go into 
 the boy's room and cover him with the bed-clothes, which his 
 restless movements had disordered. As the time wore on, the 
 child became more tranquil, and about eleven o'clock, when 
 Owen went in to look at him, he found him in a deep sleep, 
 lying on his side with his head thrown back on the pillow, 
 breathing so softly through his slightly parted lips that the 
 sound was almost imperceptible. The fair hair that clustered 
 round his forehead was damp with perspiration, and he was 
 so still and pale and silent that one might have thought he 
 was sleeping the sleep that knows no awakening. 
 
 About an hour later, when he had finished writing the 
 showcard, Owen went out into the scullery to wash his hands 
 before going to bed ; and whilst he was drying them on the 
 towel, the strange sensation he had been conscious of all the 
 evening became more intense, and a few seconds afterwards 
 he was terrified to find his mouth suddenly filled with blood. 
 
 For what seemed an eternity he fought for breath against 
 the suffocating torrent, and when at length it stopped, he 
 sank trembling into a chair by the side of the table, holding 
 the towel to his mouth and scarcely daring to breathe, whilst 
 
 390
 
 The End 
 
 a cold sweat streamed from every pore and gathered in large 
 drops upon his forehead. 
 
 Through the deathlike silence of the night there came from 
 time to time the chimes of the clock of a distant church, 
 but he continued to sit there motionless, taking no heed of 
 the passing hours, and possessed with an awful terror. 
 
 So this was the beginning of the end ! And afterwards, the 
 other two would be left by themselves at the mercy of the 
 world. In a few years' time the boy would be like Bert White, 
 in the clutches of some psalm-singing devil like Hunter or 
 Rushton, who would use him as if he were a beast of burden, 
 to be worked, driven, and bullied. His boyhood would be 
 passed in carrying loads, dragging carts, and running here 
 and there, trying his best to satisfy the brutal tyrants whose 
 only thought would be to get profit out of him for themselves. 
 As the vision of the future rose before him Owen resolved 
 that it should never be. He would not leave his wife and 
 child alone and defenceless in the midst of the ' Christian ' 
 wolves who were waiting to rend them as soon as he was 
 gone. If he could not give them happiness, he could at least 
 put them out of the reach of further suffering. If he could not 
 sta} r and protect them, it would be kinder and more merciful 
 to take them with him. 
 
 THE END 
 
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