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

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 taken down the

lathes from the drying frames. The two men now proceeded with the

painting of the blinds, working 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 discomfiture 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 & Co., and an impartial listener - had there

been one there - would have been forced to come to the same conclusion

as Crass and Slyme did: namely, that they themselves were the only two

decent fellows on the firm. There was something wrong or shady about

everybody else. That bloke Barrington, for instance - it was a very

funny business, you know, for a chap like ‘im to be workin’ as a

labourer, it looked very suspicious. Nobody knowed exactly who ‘e was

or where ‘e come from, but anyone could tell ‘e’d been a toff. It was

very certain ‘e’d never bin brought up to work for ‘is livin’. The

most probable explanation was that ‘e’d committed some crime and bin

disowned by ‘is family - pinched some money, or forged a cheque or

something like that. Then 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 Rushton’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 ‘is life! Then there was that rotter Owen; there was

a bright specimen for yer! An Atheist! didn’t believe in no God or

Devil or 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.

In this way they worked at the blinds nearly every night for three

weeks.

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 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 that bore his name and was about to retire into

private life, and that he intended to buy up all the house property in

the neighbourhood 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 regretfully 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 went out as usual to his

open-air meeting, but Easton departed from HIS usual custom of rushing

off to the `Cricketers’ directly he had had his tea, having on this

occasion promised to wait for Ruth and to 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 carried the string-bag containing the potatoes and other

vegetables, and the meat, and Ruth, 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, who were also out

marketing. They both 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 `motor’ costume, with

hat to match. Both Easton and Ruth - whose best clothes had all been

pawned to raise the money to pay the poor rate - felt very mean and

shabby before them.

When they got inside, 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 threepennyworth of gin for Mrs Crass.

The Besotted Wretch was there, just finishing a game of hooks and

rings with the Semidrunk - who had called round on the day after he

was thrown out, to apologize for his conduct to the Old Dear, and had

since then become one of the regular customers. Philpot was absent.

He had been there that afternoon, so the Old Dear said, but he had

gone home about five o’clock, and had not been back since. 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 if

times had been better, there was a large number of people there, for

the `Cricketers’ was one of the most popular houses in the town.

Another thing that helped to make them busy was the fact that two

other public houses in the vicinity had recently been closed up.

There were people in all the compartments. Some 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. Two large, fat, gipsy-looking women: evidently

hawkers, for on the floor beside them were two baskets containing

bundles of flowers - chrysanthemums and Michaelmas daisies. There

were also two very plainly and shabbily dressed women about

thirty-five years of age, who were always to be found there on

Saturday nights, drinking with any man who was willing to pay for

them. The behaviour of these two women was very quiet and their

manners unobtrusive. They seemed to realize that they were there only

on sufferance, 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 convulsed with laughter at 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 expressions resounded on every hand, coming almost as

frequently from the women as the men. And over all 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 noise made by the beer as it poured 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. Previous to her marriage she had been a total abstainer,

but since then she 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 the beer in a jug. Once or

twice she had bought it herself at an Off Licence beer-shop near where

they lived, but she had never before been in a public house to drink.

She was so confused and ill at ease that she scarcely heard or

understood Mrs Crass, who talked incessantly, principally about their

other residents in North Street where they both resided; and about Mr

Crass. She 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 than their former residence. Mrs Crass talked a lot more of

the same sort of stuff, to which Ruth listened like one in a dream,

and answered with an occasional yes or no.

Meantime, Crass and Easton - the latter had deposited the string-bag

on the seat at