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

a piece of glass or flint - had evidently lacerated his right foot,

for blood was oozing from the broken heel of his boot on to the floor.

They were unable to make much sense of the confused story he told them

through his sobs as soon as he was able to speak. All that was clear

was that there was something very serious the matter at home: he

thought his mother must be either dying or dead, because she did not

speak or move or open her eyes, and `please, please, please will you

come home with me and see her?’

While Nora was getting ready to go with the boy, Owen made him sit on

a chair, and having removed the boot from the foot that was bleeding,

washed the cut with some warm water and bandaged it with a piece of

clean rag, and then they tried to persuade him to stay there with

Frankie while Nora went to see his mother, but the boy would not hear

of it. So Frankie went with them instead. Owen could not go because

he had to finish the coffin-plate, which was only just commenced.

It will be remembered that we left Mary Linden alone in the house

after she returned from seeing the old people away. When the children

came home from school, about half an hour afterwards, they found her

sitting in one of the chairs with her head resting on her arms on the

table, unconscious. They were terrified, because they could not

awaken her and began to cry, but presently Charley thought of

Frankie’s mother and, telling his sister to stay there while he was

gone, he started off at a run for Owen’s house, leaving the front door

wide open after him.

When Nora and the two boys reached the house they found there two

other women neighbours, who had heard Elsie crying and had come to see

what was wrong. Mary had recovered from her faint and was lying down

on the bed. Nora stayed with her for some time after the other women

went away. She lit the fire and gave the children their tea - there

was still some coal and food left of what had been bought with the

three shillings obtained from the Board of Guardians - and afterwards

she tidied the house.

Mary said that she did not know exactly what she would have to do in

the future. If she could get a room somewhere for two or three

shillings a week, her allowance from the Guardians would pay the rent,

and she would be able to earn enough for herself and the children to

live on.

This was the substance of the story that Nora told Owen when she

returned home. He had finished writing the coffin-plate, and as it

was now nearly dry he put on his coat and took it down to the

carpenter’s shop at the yard.

On his way back he met Easton, who had been hanging about in the vain

hope of seeing Hunter and finding out if there was any chance of a

job. As they walked along together, Easton confided to Owen that he

had earned scarcely anything since he had been stood off at Rushton’s,

and what he had earned had gone, as usual, to pay the rent. Slyme had

left them some time ago. Ruth did not seem able to get on with him;

she had been in a funny sort of temper altogether, but since he had

gone she had had a little work at a boarding-house on the Grand

Parade. But things had been going from bad to worse. They had not

been able to keep up the payments for the furniture they had hired, so

the things had been seized and carted off. They had even stripped the

oilcloth from the floor. Easton remarked he was sorry he had not

tacked the bloody stuff down in such a manner that they would not have

been able to take it up without destroying it. He had been to see

Didlum, who said he didn’t want to be hard on them, and that he would

keep the things together for three months, and if Easton had paid up

arrears by that time he could have them back again, but there was, in

Easton’s opinion, very little chance of that.

Owen listened with contempt and anger. Here was a man who grumbled at

the present state of things, yet took no trouble to think for himself

and try to alter them, and who at the first chance would vote for the

perpetuation of the System which produced his misery.

`Have you heard that old Jack Linden and his wife went to the

workhouse today,’ he said.

`No,’ replied Easton, indifferently. `It’s only what I expected.’

Owen then suggested it would not be a bad plan for Easton to let his

front room, now that it was empty, to Mrs Linden, who would be sure to

pay her rent, which would help Easton to pay his. Easton

agreed and said he would mention it to Ruth, and a few minutes later

they parted.

The next morning Nora found Ruth talking to Mary Linden about the room

and as the Eastons lived only about five minutes’ walk away, they all

three went round there in order that Mary might see the room. The

appearance of the house from outside was unaltered: the white lace

curtains still draped the windows of the front room; and in the centre

of the bay was what appeared to be a small round table covered with a

red cloth, and upon it a geranium in a flowerpot standing in a saucer

with a frill of coloured tissue paper round it. These things and the

curtains, which fell close together, made it impossible for anyone to

see that the room was, otherwise, unfurnished. The `table’ consisted

of an empty wooden box - procured from the grocer’s - stood on end,

with the lid of the scullery copper placed upside down upon it for a

top and covered with an old piece of red cloth. The purpose of this

was to prevent the neighbours from thinking that they were hard up;

although they knew that nearly all those same neighbours were in more

or less similar straits.

It was not a very large room, considering that it would have to serve

all purposes for herself and the two children, but Mrs Linden knew

that it was not likely that she would be able to get one as good

elsewhere for the same price, so she agreed to take it from the

following Monday at two shillings a week.

As the distance was so short they were able to carry most of the

smaller things to their new home during the next few days, and on the

Monday evening, when it was dark. Owen and Easton brought the

remainder on a truck they borrowed for the purpose from Hunter.

During the last weeks of February the severity of the weather

increased. There was a heavy fall of snow on the 20th followed by a

hard frost which lasted several days.

About ten o’clock one night a policeman found a man lying unconscious

in the middle of a lonely road. At first he thought the man was

drunk, and after dragging him on to the footpath out of the way of

passing vehicles he went for the stretcher. They took the man to the

station and put him into a cell, which was already occupied by a man

who had been caught in the act of stealing a swede turnip from a barn.

When the police surgeon came he pronounced the supposed drunken man to

be dying from bronchitis and want of food; and he further said that

there was nothing to indicate that the man was addicted to drink.

When the inquest was held a few days afterwards, the coroner remarked

that it was the third case of death from destitution that had occurred

in the town within six weeks.

The evidence showed that the man was a plasterer who had walked from

London with the hope of finding work somewhere in the country. He had

no money in his possession when he was found by the policeman; all

that his pockets contained being several pawn-tickets and a letter

from his wife, which was not found until after he died, because it was

in an inner pocket of his waistcoat. A few days before this inquest

was held, the man who had been arrested for stealing the turnip had

been taken before the magistrates. The poor wretch said he did it

because he was starving, but Aldermen Sweater and Grinder, after

telling him that starvation was no excuse for dishonesty, sentenced

him to pay a fine of seven shillings and costs, or go to prison for

seven days with hard labour. As the convict had neither money nor

friends, he had to go to jail, where he was, after all, better off

than most of those who were still outside because they lacked either

the courage or the opportunity to steal something to relieve their

sufferings.

As time went on the long-continued privation began to tell upon Owen

and his family. He had a severe cough: his eyes became deeply sunken

and of remarkable brilliancy, and his thin face was always either

deathly pale or dyed with a crimson flush.

Frankie also began to show the effects of being obliged to go so often

without his porridge and milk; he became very pale and thin and his

long hair came out in handfuls when his mother combed or brushed it.

This was a great trouble to the boy, who, since hearing the story of

Samson read out of the Bible at school, had ceased from asking to have

his hair cut short, lest he should lose his strength in consequence.

He used to test himself by going through a certain exercise he had

himself invented, with a flat iron, and he was always much relieved

when he found that, notwithstanding the loss of the porridge, he was

still able to lift the iron the proper number of times. But after a

while, as he found that it became increasingly difficult to go through

the exercise, he gave it up altogether, secretly resolving to wait

until `Dad’ had more work to do, so that he could have the porridge

and milk again. He was sorry to have to discontinue the exercise, but

he said nothing about it to his father or mother because he did not

want to `worry’ them …

Sometimes Nora managed to get a small job of needlework. On one

occasion a woman with a small son brought a parcel of garments

belonging to herself or her husband, an old ulster, several coats, and

so on - things that although they were too old-fashioned or shabby to

wear, yet might look all right if turned and made up for the boy.

Nora undertook to do this, and after working several hours every day

for a week she earned four shillings: and even then the woman thought

it was so dear that she did not bring any more.

Another time Mrs Easton got her some work at a boarding-house where

she herself was employed. The servant was laid up, and they wanted

some help for a few days. The pay was to be two shillings a day, and

dinner. Owen did not want her to go because he feared she was not

strong enough to do the work, but he gave way at last and Nora went.

She had to do the bedrooms, and on the evening of the second day, as a

result of the constant running up and down the stairs carrying