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

steeple, and this steeple terminated with an ornamental wrought-iron

pinnacle which had to be painted. The ladder they had was not quite

long enough, and besides that, as it had to stand in a sort of a

courtyard at the base of the tower, it was impossible to slant it

sufficiently: instead of lying along the roof of the steeple, it was

sticking up in the air.

When Easton went up to paint the pinnacle he had to stand on almost

the very top rung of the ladder, to be exact, the third from the top,

and lean over to steady himself by holding on to the pinnacle with his

left hand while he used the brush with his right. As it was only

about twenty minutes’ work there were two men to hold the foot of the

ladder.

It was cheaper to do it this way than to rig up a proper scaffold,

which would have entailed perhaps two hours’ work for two or three

men. Of course it was very dangerous, but that did not matter at all,

because even if the man fell it would make no difference to the firm -

all the men were insured and somehow or other, although they

frequently had narrow escapes, they did not often come to grief.

On this occasion, just as Easton was finishing he felt the pinnacle

that he was holding on to give way, and he got such a fright that his

heart nearly stopped beating. He let go his hold and steadied himself

on the ladder as well as he was able, and when he had descended three

or four steps - into comparative safety - he remained clinging

convulsively to the ladder and feeling so limp that he was unable to

go down any further for several minutes. When he arrived at the

bottom and the others noticed how white and trembling he was, he told

them about the pinnacle being loose, and the `coddy’ coming along just

then, they told him about it, and suggested that it should be

repaired, as otherwise it might fall down and hurt someone: but the

`coddy’ was afraid that if they reported it they might be blamed for

breaking it, and the owner might expect the firm to put it right for

nothing, so they decided to say nothing about it. The pinnacle is

stilt on the apex of the steeple waiting for a sufficiently strong

wind to blow it down on somebody’s head.

When the other men heard of Easton’s `narrow shave’, most of them said

that it would have served him bloody well right if he had fallen and

broken his neck: he should have refused to go up at all without a

proper scaffold. That was what THEY would have done. If Misery or

the coddy had ordered any of THEM to go up and paint the pinnacle off

that ladder, they would have chucked their tools down and demanded

their ha’pence!

That was what they said, but somehow or other it never happened that

any of them ever `chucked their tools down’ at all, although such

dangerous jobs were of very frequent occurrence.

The scamping business was not confined to houses or properties of an

inferior class: it was the general rule. Large good-class houses,

villas and mansions, the residences of wealthy people, were done in

exactly the same way. Generally in such places costly and beautiful

materials were spoilt in the using.

There was a large mansion where the interior woodwork - the doors,

windows and staircase - had to be finished in white enamel. It was

rather an old house and the woodwork needed rubbing down and filling

up before being repainted, but of course there was not time for that,

so they painted it without properly preparing it and when it was

enamelled the rough, uneven surface of the wood looked horrible: but

the owner appeared quite satisfied because it was nice and shiny. The

dining-room of the same house was papered with a beautiful and

expensive plush paper. The ground of this wall-hanging was made to

imitate crimson watered silk, and it was covered with a raised pattern

in plush of the same colour. The price marked on the back of this

paper in the pattern book was eighteen shillings a roll. Slyme was

paid sixpence a roll for hanging it: the room took ten rolls, so it

cost nine pounds for the paper and five shillings to hang it! To fix

such a paper as this properly the walls should first be done with a

plain lining paper of the same colour as the ground of the wallpaper

itself, because unless the paperhanger `lapps’ the joints - which

should not be done - they are apt to open a little as the paper dries

and to show the white wall underneath - Slyme suggested this lining to

Misery, who would not entertain the idea for a moment - they had gone

to quite enough expense as it was, stripping the old paper off!

So Slyme went ahead, and as he had to make his wages, he could not

spend a great deal of time over it. Some of the joints were `lapped’

and some were butted, and two or three weeks after the owner of the

house moved in, as the paper became more dry, the joints began to open

and to show the white plaster of the wall, and then Owen had to go

there with a small pot of crimson paint and a little brush, and touch

out the white line.

While he was doing this he noticed and touched up a number of other

faults; places where Slyme - in his haste to get the work done - had

slobbered and smeared the face of the paper with fingermarks and

paste.

The same ghastly mess was made of several other `jobs’ besides this

one, and presently they adopted the plan of painting strips of colour

on the wall in the places where the joints would come, so that if they

opened the white wall would not show: but it was found that the paste

on the back of the paper dragged the paint off the wall, and when the

joints opened the white streaks showed all the same, so Misery

abandoned all attempts to prevent joints showing, and if a customer

complained, he sent someone to `touch it up’: but the lining paper was

never used, unless the customer or the architect knew enough about the

work to insist upon it.

In other parts of the same house the ceilings, the friezes, and the

dados, were covered with `embossed’ or `relief’ papers. These

hangings require very careful handling, for the raised parts are

easily damaged; but the men who fixed them were not allowed to take

the pains and time necessary to make good work: consequently in many

places - especially at the joints - the pattern was flattened out and

obliterated.

The ceiling of the drawing-room was done with a very thick high-relief

paper that was made in sheets about two feet square. These squares

were not very true in shape: they had evidently warped in drying after

manufacture: to make them match anything like properly would need

considerable time and care. But the men were not allowed to take the

necessary time. The result was that when it was finished it presented

a sort of `higgledy-piggledy’ appearance. But it didn’t matter:

nothing seemed to matter except to get it done. One would think from

the way the hands were driven and chivvied and hurried over the work

that they were being paid five or six shillings an hour instead of as

many pence.

`Get it done!’ shouted Misery from morning till night. `For God’s

sake get it done! Haven’t you finished yet? We’re losing money over

this “job”! If you chaps don’t wake up and move a bit quicker, I

shall see if I can’t get somebody else who will.’

These costly embossed decorations were usually finished in white; but

instead of carefully coating them with specially prepared paint of

patent distemper, which would need two or three coats, they slobbered

one thick coat of common whitewash on to it with ordinary whitewash

brushes.

This was a most economical way to get over it, because it made it

unnecessary to stop up the joints beforehand - the whitewash filled up

all the cracks: and it also filled up the hollow parts, the crevices

and interstices of the ornament, destroying the sharp outlines of the

beautiful designs and reducing the whole to a lumpy, formless mass.

But that did not matter either, so long as they got it done.

The architect didn’t notice it, because he knew that the more Rushton

& Co. made out of the `job’, the more he himself would make.

The man who had to pay for the work didn’t notice it; he had the

fullest confidence in the architect.

At the risk of wearying the long-suffering reader, mention must be

made of an affair that happened at this particular `job’.

The windows were all fitted with venetian blinds. The gentleman for

whom all the work was being done had only just purchased the house,

but he preferred roller blinds: he had had roller blinds in his former

residence - which he had just sold - and as these roller blinds were

about the right size, he decided to have them fitted to the windows of

his new house: so he instructed Mr Rushton to have all the venetian

blinds taken down and stored away up in the loft under the roof. Mr

Rushton promised to have this done; but they were not ALL put away

under the roof: he had four of them taken to his own place and fitted

up in the conservatory. They were a little too large, so they had to

be narrowed before they were fixed.

The sequel was rather interesting, for it happened that when the

gentleman attempted to take the roller blinds from his old house, the

person to whom he had sold it refused to allow them to be removed;

claiming that when he bought the house, he bought the blinds also.

There was a little dispute, but eventually it was settled that way and

the gentleman decided that he would have the venetian blinds in his

new house after all, and instructed the people who moved his furniture

to take the venetians down again from under the roof, and refix them,

and then, of course, it was discovered that four of the blinds were

missing. Mr Rushton was sent for, and he said that he couldn’t

understand it at all! The only possible explanation that he could

think of was that some of his workmen must have stolen them! He would

make inquiries, and endeavour to discover the culprits, but in any

case, as this had happened while things were in his charge, if he did

not succeed in recovering them, he would replace them.

As the blinds had been narrowed to fit the conservatory he had to have

four new ones made.

The customer was of course quite satisfied, although very sorry for Mr

Rushton. They had a little chat about it. Rushton told the gentleman

that he would be astonished if he knew all the facts: the difficulties

one has to contend with in dealing with working men: one has to watch

them continually! directly one’s back is turned they leave off

working! They come late in the morning, and go home before the proper

time at night, and then unless one actually happens to catch them -

they charge the full number of hours on their time sheets! Every now

and then something would be