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

a time he found it a very congenial way of passing his evenings …

One evening, Ruth saw Slyme meet Crass as if by appointment and as the

two men went away together she returned to her housework wondering

what it meant.

Meantime, Crass and Slyme 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 artisans 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 possible 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 -

although it was so late - hear of some job to be started somewhere or

other.

As they passed one of these groups they recognized and nodded to

Newman and old Jack Linden, and the former left the others and came up

to Crass and Slyme, who did not pause, so Newman walked along with

them.

`Anything fresh in, Bob?’ he asked.

`No; we ain’t got ‘ardly anything,’ replied Crass. `I reckon we shall

finish up at “The Cave” next week, and then I suppose we shall all be

stood orf. We’ve got several plumbers on, and I believe there’s a

little gas-fitting work in, but next to nothing in our line.’

`I suppose you don’t know of any other firm what’s got anything?’

`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.’

`I’ve not done anything since I left, you know,’ said Newman, `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.

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 & Co.‘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. Several framed

showcards - `Estimates Free’, `First class work only, at moderate

charges’, `Only First Class Workmen Employed’ and several 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: `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 - who

was a pale-faced, unhealthy-looking, undersized 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 Crass screwed up his courage and followed him

behind one of the showcases, and applying his eye to a crack in the

woodwork of the partition indicated by Budd, he could see Mr Rushton

in the act of kissing and embracing Miss Wade, the young lady clerk.

Crass watched them for some time and then whispered 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 a hook 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

ends of the sleeves of his coat were frayed and ragged, and the elbows

were worn threadbare. His boots were patched, broken, and down at

heel, and the knees and bottoms of the legs of his trousers were in

the same condition as the sleeves of his coat. 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 & Co., 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 running after work, and working for the benefit of

others, that they had overlooked the fact that they were only earning

a bare living for themselves 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.

`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!’

HE said it was too much,’ continued Latham. `Said as ‘e 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.

`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

‘eard nothing from ‘im yet, so I thought I’d try and see ‘im tonight.’

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!’

`Certainly not,’ said Crass, glad to get away at last. `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.

`Seemed quite upset about it,’ said Slyme; and they laughed 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 these and avoiding as much as possible 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 large yard filled with

building materials and plant, ladders, huge tressels, planks and beams

of wood, handcarts, and wheelbarrows, heaps of sand and mortar and

innumerable other things that assumed strange fantastic shapes in the

semi-darkness. Crates and packing cases, lengths of iron guttering

and rainpipes, old door-frames and other woodwork that had been taken

from buildings where alterations had been made. And over all these

things, a gloomy, indistinct and shapeless mass, rose the buildings

and sheds that comprised Rushton & Co.‘s workshop.

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 the jointed

bracket fixed to the wall. This was the paintshop. 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 with kegs of paint upon

them. 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’, `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 were hanging up to dry

some of the lathes of the venetian blinds belonging to `The Cave’,

which Crass and Slyme were painting - piecework - in their spare time.

The remainder of the lathes were leaning against the walls or piled in

stacks on the table.

Crass shivered