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

give him six months’ hard labour. A few of the followers of Jesus

admit that He really did mean just what He said, but they say that the

world would never be able to go on if they followed out His teachings!

That is true. It is probably the effect that Jesus intended His

teachings to produce. It is altogether improbable that He wished the

world to continue along its present lines. But, if these pretended

followers really think - as they say that they do - that the teachings

of Jesus are ridiculous and impracticable, why continue the

hypocritical farce of calling themselves `Christians’ when they don’t

really believe in or follow Him at all?

As Jesus himself pointed out, there’s no sense in calling Him `Lord,

Lord’ when they do not the things that He said.

This banking transaction finished, Slyme 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.

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 disappointed. 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 amused 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, evidently being under the impression that

it was something for the improvement of the complexion, or a cure for

baldness. He now looked as if he had been in a fight or a railway

accident. The child 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 dreaded it would be. 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 permitted, for he was one of a little zealous band of people

connected with the Shining Light Chapel who carried on the `open-air’

work all the year round. After a while, 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 mandolin or making

fretwork photo frames. Ruth had the baby’s photograph 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 passed away. In a quiet,

unobtrusive manner he did her so many little services that she found

it impossible to dislike 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 first 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 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 then.’

As he spoke, Slyme - who had been sitting by the fire nursing the baby -

who was trying to swallow the jar of sweets - put the child back into

the high chair, giving him one of the sticks of sweet 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.’

`I suppose I may as well,’ replied Ruth, hesitatingly. `He’ll most

likely get some bread and cheese at the “Cricketers”, same as he did

last Saturday.’

`Almost sure to,’ responded Slyme.

The baby had had his face washed while Slyme was upstairs. Directly

he saw his mother eating he threw away the sugar-stick 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 any rate, 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 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?’

`Yes,’ replied Ruth. `Everyone says he takes after me.’

Slyme moved a little closer, bending 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 confusion 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 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 `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.