The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists Part 98

'I am going to the office to see Rushton; if Hunter comes here, you say I told you to tell him that if I find the boy in that shop again without a fire, I'll report it to the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. And as for you, if the boy comes out here to get more wood, don't you attempt to interfere with him.'

'I don't want to interfere with the b.l.o.o.d.y kid,' grunted Sawkins. 'It seems to me as if he's gorn orf 'is b.l.o.o.d.y crumpet,' he added as he watched Owen walking rapidly down the street. 'I can't understand why people can't mind their own b.l.o.o.d.y business: anyone would think the boy belonged to 'IM.'

That was just how the matter presented itself to Owen. The idea that it was his own child who was to be treated in this way possessed and infuriated him as he strode savagely along. In the vicinity of the Slave Market on the Grand Parade he pa.s.sed--without seeing them--several groups of unemployed artisans whom he knew. Some of them were offended and remarked that he was getting stuck up, but others, observing how strange he looked, repeated the old prophecy that one of these days Owen would go out of his mind.

As he drew near to his destination large flakes of snow began to fall.

He walked so rapidly and was in such a fury that by the time he reached the shop he was scarcely able to speak.

'Is--Hunter--or Rushton here?' he demanded of the shopman.

'Hunter isn't, but the guv'nor is. What was it you wanted?'

'He'll soon--know--that,' panted Owen as he strode up to the office door, and without troubling to knock, flung it violently open and entered.

The atmosphere of this place was very different from that of the damp cellar where Bert was working. A grate fitted with asbestos blocks and lit with gas communicated a genial warmth to the air.

Rushton was standing leaning over Miss Wade's chair with his left arm round her neck. Owen recollected afterwards that her dress was disarranged. She retired hastily to the far end of the room as Rushton jumped away from her, and stared in amazement and confusion at the intruder--he was too astonished and embarra.s.sed to speak. Owen stood panting and quivering in the middle of the office and pointed a trembling finger at his employer:

'I've come--here--to tell--you--that--if I find young--Bert White--working--down in that shop--without a fire--I'll have you prosecuted. The place is not good enough for a stable--if you owned a valuable dog--you wouldn't keep it there--I give you fair warning--I know--enough--about you--to put you--where you deserve to be--if you don't treat him better I'll have you punished I'll show you up.'

Rushton continued to stare at him in mingled confusion, fear and perplexity; he did not yet comprehend exactly what it was all about; he was guiltily conscious of so many things which he might reasonably fear to be shown up or prosecuted for if they were known, and the fact of being caught under such circ.u.mstances with Miss Wade helped to reduce him to a condition approaching terror.

'If the boy has been there without a fire, I 'aven't known anything about it,' he stammered at last. 'Mr 'Unter has charge of all those matters.'

'You--yourself--forbade him--to make a fire last winter--and anyhow--you know about it now. You obtained money from his mother under the pretence--that you were going--to teach him a trade--but for the last twelve months--you have been using him--as if he were--a beast of burden. I advise you to see to it--or I shall--find--means--to make you--wish you had done so.'

With this Owen turned and went out, leaving the door open, and Rushton in a state of mind compounded of fear, amazement and anger.

As he walked homewards through the snow-storm, Owen began to realize that the consequence of what he had done would be that Rushton would not give him any more work, and as he reflected on all that this would mean to those at home, for a moment he doubted whether he had done right. But when he told Nora what had happened she said there were plenty of other firms in the town who would employ him--when they had the work. He had done without Rushton before and could do so again; for her part--whatever the consequences might be--she was glad that he had acted as he did.

'We'll get through somehow, I suppose,' said Owen, wearily. 'There's not much chance of getting a job anywhere else just now, but I shall try to get some work on my own account. I shall do some samples of show-cards the same as I did last winter and try to get orders from some of the shops--they usually want something extra at this time, but I'm afraid it is rather too late: most of them already have all they want.'

'I shouldn't go out again today if I were you,' said Nora, noticing how ill he looked. 'You should stay at home and read, or write up those minutes.'

The minutes referred to were those of the last meeting of the local branch of the Painters' Society, of which Owen was the secretary, and as the snow continued to fall, he occupied himself after dinner in the manner his wife suggested, until four o'clock, when Frankie returned from school bringing with him a large s...o...b..ll, and crying out as a piece of good news that the snow was still falling heavily, and that he believed it was freezing!

They went to bed very early that night, for it was necessary to economize the coal, and not only that, but--because the rooms were so near the roof--it was not possible to keep the place warm no matter how much coal was used. The fire seemed, if anything, to make the place colder, for it caused the outer air to pour in through the joints of the ill-fitting doors and windows.

Owen lay awake for the greater part of the night. The terror of the future made rest or sleep impossible. He got up very early the next morning--long before it was light--and after lighting the fire, set about preparing the samples he had mentioned to Nora, but found that it would not be possible to do much in this direction without buying more cardboard, for most of what he had was not in good condition.

They had bread and b.u.t.ter and tea for breakfast. Frankie had his in bed and it was decided to keep him away from school until after dinner because the weather was so very cold and his only pair of boots were so saturated with moisture from having been out in the snow the previous day.

'I shall make a few inquiries to see if there's any other work to be had before I buy the cardboard,' said Owen, 'although I'm afraid it's not much use.'

Just as he was preparing to go out, the front door bell rang, and as he was going down to answer it he saw Bert White coming upstairs. The boy was carrying a flat, brown-paper parcel under his arm.

'A corfin plate,' he explained as he arrived at the door. 'Wanted at once--Misery ses you can do it at 'ome, an' I've got to wait for it.'

Owen and his wife looked at each other with intense relief. So he was not to be dismissed after all. It was almost too good to be true.

'There's a piece of paper inside the parcel with the name of the party what's dead,' continued Bert, 'and here's a little bottle of Brunswick black for you to do the inscription with.'

'Did he send any other message?'

'Yes: he told me to tell you there's a job to be started Monday morning--a couple of rooms to be done out somewhere. Got to be finished by Thursday; and there's another job 'e wants you to do this afternoon--after dinner--so you've got to come to the yard at one o'clock. 'E told me to tell you 'e meant to leave a message for you yesterday morning, but 'e forgot.'

'What did he say to you about the fire--anything?'

'Yes: they both of 'em came about an hour after you went away--Misery and the Bloke too--but they didn't kick up a row. I wasn't arf frightened, I can tell you, when I saw 'em both coming, but they was quite nice. The Bloke ses to me, "Ah, that's right, my boy," 'e ses.

"Keep up a good fire. I'm going to send you some c.o.ke," 'e ses. And then they 'ad a look round and 'e told Sawkins to put some new panes of gla.s.s where the winder was broken, and--you know that great big packing-case what was under the truck shed?'

'Yes.'

'Well, 'e told Sawkins to saw it up and cover over the stone floor of the paint-shop with it. It ain't 'arf all right there now. I've cleared out all the muck from under the benches and we've got two sacks of c.o.ke sent from the gas-works, and the Bloke told me when that's all used up I've got to get a order orf Miss Wade for another lot.'

At one o'clock Owen was at the yard, where he saw Misery, who instructed him to go to the front shop and paint some numbers on the racks where the wallpapers were stored. Whilst he was doing this work Rushton came in and greeted him in a very friendly way.

'I'm very glad you let me know about the boy working in that paint-shop,' he observed after a few preliminary remarks. 'I can a.s.sure you as I don't want the lad to be uncomfortable, but you know I can't attend to everything myself. I'm much obliged to you for telling me about it; I think you did quite right; I should have done the same myself.'

Owen did not know what to reply, but Rushton walked off without waiting...

Chapter 52

'It's a Far, Far Better Thing that I do, than I have Ever Done'

Although Owen, Easton and Cra.s.s and a few others were so lucky as to have had a little work to do during the last few months, the majority of their fellow workmen had been altogether out of employment most of the time, and meanwhile the practical business-men, and the pretended disciples of Christ--the liars and hypocrites who professed to believe that all men are brothers and G.o.d their Father--had continued to enact the usual farce that they called 'Dealing' with the misery that surrounded them on every side. They continued to organize 'Rummage'

and 'Jumble' sales and bazaars, and to distribute their rotten cast-off clothes and boots and their broken victuals and soup to such of the Brethren as were sufficiently degraded to beg for them. The beautiful Distress Committee was also in full operation; over a thousand Brethren had registered themselves on its books. Of this number--after careful investigation--the committee had found that no fewer than six hundred and seventy-two were deserving of being allowed to work for their living. The Committee would probably have given these six hundred and seventy-two the necessary permission, but it was somewhat handicapped by the fact that the funds at its disposal were only sufficient to enable that number of Brethren to be employed for about three days.

However, by adopting a policy of temporizing, delay, and general artful dodging, the Committee managed to create the impression that they were Dealing with the Problem.

If it had not been for a cunning device invented by Brother Rushton, a much larger number of the Brethren would have succeeded in registering themselves as unemployed on the books of the Committee. In previous years it had been the practice to issue an application form called a 'Record Paper' to any Brother who asked for one, and the Brother returned it after filling it in himself. At a secret meeting of the Committee Rushton proposed--amid laughter and applause, it was such a good joke--a new and better way, calculated to keep down the number of applicants. The result of this innovation was that no more forms were issued, but the applicants for work were admitted into the office one at a time, and were there examined by a junior clerk, somewhat after the manner of a French Juge d'Instruction interrogating a criminal, the clerk filling in the form according to the replies of the culprit.

'What's your name?'

'Where do you live?'

'How long have you been living there?'

'Where did you live before you went there?'

'How long were you living at that place?'

'Why did you move?'

'Did you owe any rent when you left?'