Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell (fiction novels to read .txt) 📕

omitted to say goodbye, and as it was too far to go up again he rang

the bell and then went into the middle of the road and looked up at

the window that Nora opened.

`Goodbye, Mother,’ he shouted. `Tell Dad I forgot to say it before I

came down.’

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 was 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 of seats

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. As the

reader is aware, 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 commenced, but the scholars

had not yet 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.

The reader already has some slight knowledge of a few of these people.

There was Mr Didlum, Mr Sweater, Mr Rushton and Mr Hunter and Mrs

Starvem (Ruth Easton’s former mistress). On this occasion, in

addition to the teachers and other officials of the Sunday 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 clergyman who was going to be their

minister for the next few weeks during the absence of their regular

shepherd, Mr Belcher, 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 his 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 produced by the young

minister’s 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 significance of all that he had said, most

of them had been favourably impressed by the young clergyman’s

appearance and manner in the morning: but that might have arisen from

prepossession and force of habit, for they were accustomed, as a

matter of course, to think well of any minister. There were, however,

one or two members of the congregation 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 hearing him again that not much was done in the way of

lessons. Every time a late arrival entered all eyes were directed

towards the door in the hope and expectation that it was he.

When Frankie, standing at the door, saw all the people looking at him

he drew back timidly.

`Come on, man,’ said Charley. `You needn’t be afraid; it’s not like a

weekday 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 Charley 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.

When Hunter noticed how well cared for and well dressed he was he

thought the child must belong to well-to-do, respectable parents.

Frankie did not pay much attention to the lesson, for he was too much

interested in the pictures on the walls and in looking at the other

children. He also noticed a very fat man who was not teaching at all,

but drifted aimlessly about he room from one class to another. After

a time he came and stood by the class where Frankie was, and, after

nodding to Hunter, remained near, listening and smiling patronizingly

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 he

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 studless collar,

and apparently buttonless, being fastened n some mysterious way known

only to himself, and he showed no shirt front.

The long garment beforementioned was unbuttoned and through the

opening there protruded a vast expanse of waistcoat and trousers,

distended almost to bursting by the huge globe of flesh they

contained. A gold watch-chain with a locket extended partly across

the visible portion of the envelope of the globe. He had very large

feet which were carefully encased in soft calfskin boots. If he had

removed the long garment, this individual would have resembled a

balloon: the feet representing the car and the small head that

surmounted the globe, the safety valve; as it was it did actually

serve the purpose of a safety valve, the owner being, in consequence

of gross overfeeding and lack of natural exercise, afflicted with

chronic flatulence, which manifested itself in frequent belchings

forth through the mouth of the foul gases generated in the stomach by

the decomposition of the foods with which it was generally loaded.

But as the Rev. Mr Belcher had never been seen with his coat off, no

one ever noticed the resemblance. It was not necessary for him to

take his coat off: his part in life was not to help to produce, but to

help to devour the produce of the labour of others.

After exchanging a few words and grins with Hunter, he moved on to

another class, and presently Frankie with a feeling of awe noticed

that the confused murmuring sound that had hitherto pervaded the place

was hushed. The time allotted for lessons had expired, and the

teachers were quietly distributing hymn-books to the children.

Meanwhile the balloon had drifted up to the end of the hall and had

ascended the platform, where it remained stationary by the side of the

table, occasionally emitting puffs of gas through the safety valve.

On the table were several books, and also a pile of folded cards.

These latter were about six inches by three inches; there was some

printing on the outside: one of them was lying open on the table,

showing the inside, which was ruled and had money columns.

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 occasionally broken by explosions of flatulence, he

said:

`My dear 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.

`Now those ungrateful Israelites had received many things, but we have

even more cause to be grateful than they had, for we have received

even more abundantly than they did.’ (Here the good man’s voice was

stilled by a succession of explosions.) `And I am sure,’ he resumed,

`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.

`Doubtless some of you have noticed the unseemly condition 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

varnishing.

`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 one 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.

`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 whom you feel certain will give: then ask all those

whom you think may possibly give: and, finally, ask all those whom you

feel certain will not give: and you will be surprised to find that

many of these last will donate abundantly.

`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 forget 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.’

Here the holy man paused again, and there was a rumbling, gurgling

noise in the interior of the balloon, followed by several escapes of

gas through the safety valve. The paroxysm over, the apostle of

self-denial continued:

`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.

`I 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 originated the

whole scheme in the hope of securing the job for Rushton & Co., 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, nourishing one fat, flabby white 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