the ragged trousered philanthropists-第64节

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lpot　was　taking　a　dip　of　colour；　the　brush　fell　from　his　hand　into　the　pot；　and　then；　finding　that　he　was　unable　to　move　his　fingers；　he　put　his　hand　into　his　trousers　pocket　to　thaw；　and　began　to　walk　about；　stamping　his　feet　upon　the　ground。　　His　example　was　quickly　followed　by　Owen；　Easton　and　Harlow；　and　they　all　went　round　the　corner　to　the　sheltered　side　of　the　house　where　Slyme　was　working；　and　began　walking　up　and　down；　rubbing　their　hands；　stamping　their　feet　and　swinging　their　arms　to　warm　themselves。

‘If　I　thought　Nimrod　wasn't　comin'；　I'd　put　my　overcoat　on　and　work　in　it；'　remarked　Philpot；　'but　you　never　knows　when　to　expect　the　br；　and　if　'e　saw　me　in　it；　it　would　mean　the　bloody　push。'

‘It　wouldn't　interfere　with　our　workin'　if　we　did　wear　'em；'　said　Easton；　‘in　fact；　we'd　be　able　to　work　all　the　quicker　if　we　wasn't　so　cold。'

‘Even　if　Misery　didn't　come；　I　suppose　Crass　would　'ave　something　to　say　if　we　did　put　'em　on；'　continued　Philpot。

‘Well；　yer　couldn't　blame　'im　if　'e　did　say　something；　could　yer？'　said　Slyme；　offensively。　　‘Crass　would　get　into　a　row　'imself　if　'Unter　came　and　saw　us　workin'　in　overcoats。　　It　would　look　ridiclus。'

Slyme　suffered　less　from　the　cold　than　any　of　them；　not　only　because　he　had　secured　the　most　sheltered　window；　but　also　because　he　was　better　clothed　than　most　of　the　rest。

‘What's　Crass　supposed　to　be　doin'　inside？'　asked　Easton　as　he　tramped　up　and　down；　with　his　shoulders　hunched　up　and　his　hands　thrust　deep　into　the　pockets　of　his　trousers。

‘Blowed　if　I　know；'　replied　Philpot。　　‘Messin'　about　touchin'　up　or　makin'　colour。　　He　never　does　'is　share　of　a　job　like　this；　'e　knows　'ow　to　work　things　all　right　for　'isself。'

‘What　if　'e　does？　　We'd　be　the　same　if　we　was　in　'is　place；　and　so　would　anybody　else；'　said　Slyme；　and　added　sarcastically：　‘Or　p'haps　you'd　give　all　the　soft　jobs　to　other　people　and　do　all　the　rough　yerself！'

Slyme　knew　that；　although　they　were　speaking　of　Crass；　they　were　also　alluding　to　himself；　and　as　he　replied　to　Philpot　he　looked　slyly　at　Owen；　who　had　so　far　taken　no　part　in　the　conversation。

‘It's　not　a　question　of　what　we　would　do；'　chimed　in　Harlow。　　‘It's　a　question　of　what's　fair。　　If　it's　not　fair　for　Crass　to　pick　all　the　soft　jobs　for　'imself　and　leave　all　the　rough　for　others；　the　fact　that　we　might　do　the　same　if　we　'ad　the　chance　don't　make　it　right。'

‘No　one　can　be　blamed　for　doing　the　best　he　can　for　himself　under　existing　circumstances；'　said　Owen　in　reply　to　Slyme's　questioning　look。　　That　is　the　principle　of　the　present　system　…　every　man　for　himself　and　the　devil　take　the　rest。　　For　my　own　part　I　don't　pretend　to　practise　unselfishness。　　I　don't　pretend　to　guide　my　actions　by　the　rules　laid　down　in　the　Sermon　on　the　Mount。　　But　it's　certainly　surprising　to　hear　you　who　profess　to　be　a　follower　of　Christ　…　advocating　selfishness。　　Or；　rather；　it　would　be　surprising　if　it　were　not　that　the　name　of　〃Christian〃　has　ceased　to　signify　one　who　follows　Christ；　and　has　come　to　mean　only　liar　and　hypocrite。'

Slyme　made　no　answer。　　Possibly　the　fact　that　he　was　a　true　believer　enabled　him　to　bear　this　insult　with　meekness　and　humility。

‘I　wonder　what　time　it　is？'　interposed　Philpot。

Slyme　looked　at　his　watch。　　It　was　nearly　ten　o'clock。

‘Jesus　Christ！　　Is　that　all？'　growled　Easton　as　they　returned　to　work。　‘Two　hours　more　before　dinner！'

Only　two　more　hours；　but　to　these　miserable；　half…starved；　ill…clad　wretches；　standing　here　in　the　bitter　wind　that　pierced　their　clothing　and　seemed　to　be　tearing　at　their　very　hearts　and　lungs　with　icy　fingers；　it　appeared　like　an　eternity。　　To　judge　by　the　eagerness　with　which　they　longed　for　dinner…time；　one　might　have　thought　they　had　some　glorious　banquet　to　look　forward　to　instead　of　bread　and　cheese　and　onions；　or　bloaters　…　and　stewed　tea。

Two　more　hours　of　torture　before　dinner；　and　three　more　hours　after　that。　　And　then；　thank　God；　it　would　be　too　dark　to　see　to　work　any　longer。

It　would　have　been　much　better　for　them　if；　instead　of　being　‘Freemen'；　they　had　been　slaves；　and　the　property；　instead　of　the　hirelings；　of　Mr　Rushton。　　As　it　was；　HE　would　not　have　cared　if　one　or　all　of　them　had　become　ill　or　died　from　the　effects　of　exposure。　It　would　have　made　no　difference　to　him。　　There　were　plenty　of　others　out　of　work　and　on　the　verge　of　starvation　who　would　be　very　glad　to　take　their　places。　　But　if　they　had　been　Rushton's　property；　such　work　as　this　would　have　been　deferred　until　it　could　be　done　without　danger　to　the　health　and　lives　of　the　slaves；　or　at　any　rate；　even　if　it　were　proceeded　with　during　such　weather；　their　owner　would　have　seen　to　it　that　they　were　properly　clothed　and　fed；　he　would　have　taken　as　much　care　of　them　as　he　would　of　his　horse。

People　always　take　great　care　of　their　horses。　　If　they　were　to　overwork　a　horse　and　make　it　ill；　it　would　cost　something　for　medicine　and　the　veterinary　surgeon；　to　say　nothing　of　the　animal's　board　and　lodging。　　If　they　were　to　work　their　horses　to　death；　they　would　have　to　buy　others。　　But　none　of　these　considerations　applies　to　workmen。　If　they　work　a　man　to　death　they　can　get　another　for　nothing　at　the　corner　of　the　next　street。　　They　don't　have　to　buy　him；　all　they　have　to　do　is　to　give　him　enough　money　to　provide　him　with　food　and　clothing　…　of　a　kind　…　while　he　is　working　for　them。　　If　they　only　make　him　ill；　they　will　not　have　to　feed　him　or　provide　him　with　medical　care　while　he　is　laid　up。　　He　will　either　go　without　these　things　or　pay　for　them　himself。　　At　the　same　time　it　must　be　admitted　that　the　workman　scores　over　both　the　horse　and　the　slave；　inasmuch　as　he　enjoys　the　priceless　blessing　of　Freedom。　　If　he　does　not　like　the　hirer's　conditions　he　need　not　accept　them。　　He　can　refuse　to　work；　and　he　can　go　and　starve。　　There　are　no　ropes　on　him。　　He　is　a　Free　man。　　He　is　the　Heir　of　all　the　Ages。　　He　enjoys　perfect　Liberty。　　He　has　the　right　to　choose　freely　which　he　will　do　…　Submit　or　Starve。　Eat　dirt　or　eat　nothing。

The　wind　blew　colder　and　colder。　　The　sky；　which　at　first　had　shown　small　patches　of　blue　through　rifts　in　the　masses　of　clouds；　had　now　become　uniformly　grey。　　There　was　every　indication　of　an　impending　fall　of　snow。

The　men　perceived　this　with　conflicting　feelings。　　If　it　did　commence　to　snow；　they　would　not　be　able　to　continue　this　work；　and　therefore　they　found　themselves　involuntarily　wishing　that　it　would　snow；　or　rain；　or　hail；　or　anything　that　would　stop　the　work。　　But　on　the　other　hand；　if　the　weather　prevented　them　getting　on　with　the　outside；　some　of　them　would　have　to　‘stand　off'；　because　the　inside　was　practically　finished。　　None　of　them　wished　to　lose　any　time　if　they　could　possibly　help　it；　because　there　were　only　ten　days　more　before　Christmas。

The　morning　slowly　wore　away　and　the　snow　did　not　fall。　　The　hands　worked　on　in　silence；　for　they　were　in　no　mood　for　talking；　and　not　only　that；　but　they　were　afraid　that　Hunter　or　Rushton　or　Crass　might　be　watching　them　from　behind　some　bush　or　tree；　or　through　some　of　the　windows。　　This　dread　possessed　them　to　such　an　extent　that　most　of　them　were　almost　afraid　even　to　look　round；　and　kept　steadily　on　at　work。　　None　of　them　wished　to　spoil　his　chance　of　being　kept　on　to　help　to　do　the　other　house　that　it　was　reported　Rushton　&　Co。　were　going　to　‘do　up'　for　Mr　Sweater。

Twelve　o'clock　came　at　last；　and　Crass's　whistle　had　scarcely　ceased　to　sound　before　they　all　assembled　in　the　kitchen　before　the　roaring　fire。　　Sweater　had　sent　in　two　tons　of　coal　and　had　given　orders　that　fires　were　to　be　lit　every　day　in　nearly　every　room　to　make　the　house　habitable　by　Christmas。

‘I　wonder　if　it's　true　as　the　firm's　got　another　job　to　do　for　old　Sweater？'　remarked　Harlow　as　he　was　toasting　a　bloater　on　the　end　of　the　pointed　stick。

‘True？　No！'　said　the　man　on　the　pail　scornfully。　　‘It's　all　bogy。　　You　know　that　empty　'ouse　as　they　said　Sweater　'ad　bought　…　the　one　that　Rushton　and　Nimrod　was　seen　lookin'　at？'

‘Yes；'　replied　Harlow。　　The　other　men　listened　with　evident　interest。　‘Well；　they　wasn't　pricing　it　up　after　all！　T　he　landlord　of　that　'ouse　is　abroad；　and　there　was　some　plants　in　the　garden　as　Rushton　thought　'e'd　like；　and　'e　was　tellin'　Misery　which　ones　'e　wanted。　And　afterwards　old　Pontius　Pilate　came　up　with　Ned　Dawson　and　a　truck。　They　made　two　or　three　journeys　and　took　bloody　near　everything　in　the　garden　as　was　worth　takin'。　　What　didn't　go　to　Rushton's　place　went　to　'Unter's。'

The　disappointment　of　their　hopes　for　another　job　was　almost　forgotten　in　their　interest　in　this　story。

‘Who　told　you　about　it？'　said　Harlow。

‘Ned　Dawson　'imself。　　It's　right　enough　what　I　say。　Ask　'im。'

Ned　Dawson；　usually　called　‘Bundy's　mate'；　had　been　away　from　the　house　for　a　few　days　down　at　the　yard　doing　odd　jobs；　and　had　only　come　back　to　the　‘Cave'　that　morning。　　On　being　appealed　to；　he　corroborated　Dick　Wantley's　statement。

‘They'll　be　gettin'　theirselves　into　trouble　if　they　ain't　careful；'　remarked　Easton。

‘Oh；　no　they　won't；　Rushton's　too　artful　for　that。　　It　seems　the　agent　is　a　pal　of　'is；　and　they　worked　it　between　'em。'

‘Wot　a　bloody　cheek；　though！'　exclaimed　Harlow。

‘Oh；　that'