the ragged trousered philanthropists-第58部分

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ocrite。'

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　before　dinner！'

Only　two　more　hours；　but　to　these　miserable；　half…starved；　ill…clad　wretches；　standing　here　in　the　bitter　wind　that　pierced　their　clothing　and　seemed　to　be　tearing　at　their　very　hearts　and　lungs　with　icy　fingers；　it　appeared　like　an　eternity。　　To　judge　by　the　eagerness　with　which　they　longed　for　dinner…time；　one　might　have　thought　they　had　some　glorious　banquet　to　look　forward　to　instead　of　bread　and　cheese　and　onions；　or　bloaters　…　and　stewed　tea。

Two　more　hours　of　torture　before　dinner；　and　three　more　hours　after　that。　　And　then；　thank　God；　it　would　be　too　dark　to　see　to　work　any　longer。

It　would　have　been　much　better　for　them　if；　instead　of　being　‘Freemen'；　they　had　been　slaves；　and　the　property；　instead　of　the　hirelings；　of　Mr　Rushton。　　As　it　was；　HE　would　not　have　cared　if　one　or　all　of　them　had　become　ill　or　died　from　the　effects　of　exposure。　It　would　have　made　no　difference　to　him。　　There　were　plenty　of　others　out　of　work　and　on　the　verge　of　starvation　who　would　be　very　glad　to　take　their　places。　　But　if　they　had　been　Rushton's　property；　such　work　as　this　would　have　been　deferred　until　it　could　be　done　without　danger　to　the　health　and　lives　of　the　slaves；　or　at　any　rate；　even　if　it　were　proceeded　with　during　such　weather；　their　owner　would　have　seen　to　it　that　they　were　properly　clothed　and　fed；　he　would　have　taken　as　much　care　of　them　as　he　would　of　his　horse。

People　always　take　great　care　of　their　horses。　　If　they　were　to　overwork　a　horse　and　make　it　ill；　it　would　cost　something　for　medicine　and　the　veterinary　surgeon；　to　say　nothing　of　the　animal's　board　and　lodging。　　If　they　were　to　work　their　horses　to　death；　they　would　have　to　buy　others。　　But　none　of　these　considerations　applies　to　workmen。　If　they　work　a　man　to　death　they　can　get　another　for　nothing　at　the　corner　of　the　next　street。　　They　don't　have　to　buy　him；　all　they　have　to　do　is　to　give　him　enough　money　to　provide　him　with　food　and　clothing　…　of　a　kind　…　while　he　is　working　for　them。　　If　they　only　make　him　ill；　they　will　not　have　to　feed　him　or　provide　him　with　medical　care　while　he　is　laid　up。　　He　will　either　go　without　these　things　or　pay　for　them　himself。　　At　the　same　time　it　must　be　admitted　that　the　workman　scores　over　both　the　horse　and　the　slave；　inasmuch　as　he　enjoys　the　priceless　blessing　of　Freedom。　　If　he　does　not　like　the　hirer's　conditions　he　need　not　accept　them。　　He　can　refuse　to　work；　and　he　can　go　and　starve。　　There　are　no　ropes　on　him。　　He　is　a　Free　man。　　He　is　the　Heir　of　all　the　Ages。　　He　enjoys　perfect　Liberty。　　He　has　the　right　to　choose　freely　which　he　will　do　…　Submit　or　Starve。　Eat　dirt　or　eat　nothing。

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　indication　of　an　impending　fall　of　snow。

The　men　perceived　this　with　conflicting　feelings。　　If　it　did　commence　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　‘stand　off'；　because　the　inside　was　practically　finished。　　None　of　them　wished　to　lose　any　time　if　they　could　possibly　help　it；　because　there　were　only　ten　days　more　before　Christmas。

The　morning　slowly　wore　away　and　the　snow　did　not　fall。　　The　hands　worked　on　in　silence；　for　they　were　in　no　mood　for　talking；　and　not　only　that；　but　they　were　afraid　that　Hunter　or　Rushton　or　Crass　might　be　watching　them　from　behind　some　bush　or　tree；　or　through　some　of　the　windows。　　This　dread　possessed　them　to　such　an　extent　that　most　of　them　were　almost　afraid　even　to　look　round；　and　kept　steadily　on　at　work。　　None　of　them　wished　to　spoil　his　chance　of　being　kept　on　to　help　to　do　the　other　house　that　it　was　reported　Rushton　&　Co。　were　going　to　‘do　up'　for　Mr　Sweater。

Twelve　o'clock　came　at　last；　and　Crass's　whistle　had　scarcely　ceased　to　sound　before　they　all　assembled　in　the　kitchen　before　the　roaring　fire。　　Sweater　had　sent　in　two　tons　of　coal　and　had　given　orders　that　fires　were　to　be　lit　every　day　in　nearly　every　room　to　make　the　house　habitable　by　Christmas。

‘I　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　the　pointed　stick。

‘True？　No！'　said　the　man　on　the　pail　scornfully。　　‘It's　all　bogy。　　You　know　that　empty　'ouse　as　they　said　Sweater　'ad　bought　…　the　one　that　Rushton　and　Nimrod　was　seen　lookin'　at？'

‘Yes；'　replied　Harlow。　　The　other　men　listened　with　evident　interest。　‘Well；　they　wasn't　pricing　it　up　after　all！　T　he　landlord　of　that　'ouse　is　abroad；　and　there　was　some　plants　in　the　garden　as　Rushton　thought　'e'd　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。

‘Who　told　you　about　it？'　said　Harlow。

‘Ned　Dawson　'imself。　　It's　right　enough　what　I　say。　Ask　'im。'

Ned　Dawson；　usually　called　‘Bundy's　mate'；　had　been　away　from　the　house　for　a　few　days　down　at　the　yard　doing　odd　jobs；　and　had　only　come　back　to　the　‘Cave'　that　morning。　　On　being　appealed　to；　he　corroborated　Dick　Wantley's　statement。

‘They'll　be　gettin'　theirselves　into　trouble　if　they　ain't　careful；'　remarked　Easton。

‘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。'

‘Wot　a　bloody　cheek；　though！'　exclaimed　Harlow。

‘Oh；　that's　nothing　to　some　of　the　things　I've　known　'em　do　before　now；'　said　the　man　on　the　pail。　　‘Why；　don't　you　remember；　back　in　the　summer；　that　carved　hoak　hall　table　as　Rushton　pinched　out　of　that　'ouse　on　Grand　Parade？'

‘Yes；　that　was　a　bit　of　all　right　too；　wasn't　it？'　cried　Philpot；　and　several　of　the　others　laughed。

‘You　know；　that　big　'ouse　we　did　up　last　summer　…　No。　596；'　Wantley　continued；　for　the　benefit　of　those　not　‘in　the　know'。　　‘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！'　　The　man　on　the　pail　waxed　enthusiastic　as　he　thought　of　it。　　‘Must　'ave　been　worth　at　least　five　quid。　　Well；　just　as　we　pulled　this　'ere　table　out；　who　should　come　in　but　Rushton；　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　Judgement〃　'angin'　on　the　wall　just　over　it　…　thunder　and　lightning　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。

‘Yes：　but　the　best　of　it　was；'　the　man　on　the　pail　proceeded；　‘the　best　of　it　was；　when　ole　Misery　'eard　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　arterwards　one　of　the　carpenters　'ad　to　go　and　fix　it　up　in　'is　bedroom。'

‘And　wasn't　it　never　found　out？'　inquired　Easton。

‘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。'

‘What　I　can't　understand　is；　who　did　the　table　belong　to？'　said　Harlow。

‘It　was　a　fixture　belongin'　to　the　'ouse；'　replied　Wantley。　　‘But　I　suppose　the　former　tenants　had　some　piece　of　furniture　of　their　own　that　they　wanted　to　put　in　the　'all　where　this　table　was　fixed；　so　they　took　it　down　and　stored　it　away　in　this　'ere　cupboard；　and　when　they　left　the　'ouse　I　suppose　they　didn't　trouble　to　put　it　back　again。　　Anyway；　there　was　the　mark　on　the　wall　where　it　used　to　be　fixed；　but　when　we　did　the　staircase　down；　the　place　was　papered　over；　and　I　suppose　the　landlord　or　the　agent　never　give　the　table　a　thought。　　Anyhow；　Rushton　got　away　with　it　all　right。'

A　number　of　similar　stories　were　related　by　several　others　concerning　the　doings　of　different　employers　they　had　worked　for；　but　after　a　time　the　conversation　reverted　to　the　subject　that　was　uppermost　in　their　thoughts　…　the　impending　slaughter；　and　the　improbability　of　being　able　to　obtain　another　job；　considering　the　large　number　of　men　who　were　already　out　of　employment。

‘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。'

‘Yes；'　said　Harlow；　‘that's　true　enough。　　Why；　just　look　at　the　work　that's　in　one　o'　them　'ouses　on　the　Grand　Parade。　　People　must　'ave　'ad　more　money　to　spend　in　those　days；　you　know；　all　those　massive　curtain　cornishes　over　the　dr