Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell (read novel full TXT) 📖
- Author: Robert Tressell
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faces. Some of them were alone; others were accompanied by little
children who trotted along trustfully clinging to their mothers’
hands. The sight of these poor little ones, their utter helplessness
and dependence, their patched unsightly clothing and broken boots, and
the wistful looks on their pitiful faces as they gazed into the
windows of the toy-shops, sent a pang of actual physical pain to his
heart and filled his eyes with tears. He knew that these children -
naked of joy and all that makes life dear - were being tortured by the
sight of the things that were placed so cruelly before their eyes, but
which they were not permitted to touch or to share; and, like Joseph
of old, his heart yearned over to his younger brethren.
He felt like a criminal because he was warmly clad and well fed in the
midst of all this want and unhappiness, and he flushed with shame
because he had momentarily faltered in his devotion to the noblest
cause that any man could be privileged to fight for - the uplifting of
the disconsolate and the oppressed.
He presently came to a large toy shop outside which several children
were standing admiring the contents of the window. He recognized some
of these children and paused to watch them and to listen to their
talk. They did not notice him standing behind them as they ranged to
and fro before the window, and as he looked at them, he was reminded
of the way in which captive animals walk up and down behind the bars
of their cages. These children wandered repeatedly, backwards and
forwards from one end of the window to the other, with their little
hands pressed against the impenetrable plate glass, choosing and
pointing out to each other the particular toys that took their
fancies.
`That’s mine!’ cried Charley Linden, enthusiastically indicating a
large strongly built waggon. `If I had that I’d give Freddie rides in
it and bring home lots of firewood, and we could play at fire engines
as well.’
`I’d rather have this railway,’ said Frankie Owen. `There’s a real
tunnel and real coal in the tenders; then there’s the station and the
signals and a place to turn the engine round, and a red lantern to
light when there’s danger on the line.’
`Mine’s this doll - not the biggest one, the one in pink with clothes
that you can take off,’ said Elsie; `and this tea set; and this
needlecase for Mother.’
Little Freddie had let go his hold of Elsie, to whom he usually clung
tightly and was clapping his hands and chuckling with delight and
desire. `Gee-gee?’ he cried eagerly. `Gee-gee. Pwetty Gee-gee!
Fweddy want gee-gee!’
`But it’s no use lookin’ at them any longer,’ continued Elsie, with a
sigh, as she took hold of Freddie’s hand to lead him away. `It’s no
use lookin’ at ‘em any longer; the likes of us can’t expect to have
such good things as them.’
This remark served to recall Frankie and Charley to the stern
realities of life, and turning reluctantly away from the window they
prepared to follow Elsie, but Freddie had not yet learnt the lesson -
he had not lived long enough to understand that the good things of the
world were not for the likes of him; so when Elsie attempted to draw
him away he pursed up his underlip and began to cry, repeating that he
wanted a gee-gee. The other children dustered round trying to coax
and comfort him by telling him that no one was allowed to have
anything out of the windows yet - until Christmas - and that Santa
Claus would be sure to bring him a gee-gee then; but these arguments
failed to make any impression on Freddie, who tearfully insisted upon
being supplied at once.
Whilst they were thus occupied they caught sight of Barrington, whom
they hailed with evident pleasure born of the recollection of certain
gifts of pennies and cakes they had at different times received from
him.
`Hello, Mr Barrington,’ said the two boys in a breath.
`Hello,’ replied Barrington, as he patted the baby’s cheek. `What’s
the matter here? What’s Freddie crying for?’
`He wants that there ‘orse, mister, the one with the real ‘air on,’
said Charley, smiling indulgently like a grown-up person who realized
the absurdity of the demand.
`Fweddie want gee-gee,’ repeated the child, taking hold of
Barrington’s hand and returning to the window. `Nice gee-gee.’
`Tell him that Santa Claus’ll bring it to him on Christmas,’ whispered
Elsie. `P’raps he’ll believe you and that’ll satisfy him, and he’s
sure to forget all about it in a little while.’
`Are you still out of work, Mr Barrington?’ inquired Frankie.
`No,’ replied Barrington slowly. `I’ve got something to do at last.’
`Well, that’s a good job, ain’t it?’ remarked Charley.
`Yes,’ said Barrington. `And whom do you think I’m working for?’
`Who?’
`Santa Claus.’
`Santa Claus!’ echoed the children, opening their eyes to the fullest
extent.
`Yes,’ continued Barrington, solemnly. `You know, he is a very old
man now, so old that he can’t do all his work himself. Last year he
was so tired that he wasn’t able to get round to all the children he
wanted to give things to, and consequently a great many of them never
got anything at all. So this year he’s given me a job to help him.
He’s given me some money and a list of children’s names, and against
their names are written the toys they are to have. My work is to buy
the things and give them to the boys and girls whose names are on the
list.’
The children listened to this narrative with bated breath. Incredible
as the story seemed, Barrington’s manner was so earnest as to almost
compel belief.
`Really and truly, or are you only having a game?’ said Frankie at
length, speaking almost in a whisper. Elsie and Charley maintained an
awestruck silence, while Freddie beat upon the glass with the palms of
his hands.
`Really and truly,’ replied Barrington unblushingly as he took out his
pocketbook and turned over the leaves. `I’ve got the list here;
perhaps your names are down for something.’
The three children turned pale and their hearts beat violently as they
listened wide-eyed for what was to follow.
`Let me see,’ continued Barrington, scanning the pages of the book,
`Why, yes, here they are! Elsie Linden, one doll with clothes that
can be taken off, one tea-set, one needlecase. Freddie Easton, one
horse with real hair. Charley Linden, one four-wheeled waggon full of
groceries. Frankie Owen, one railway with tunnel, station, train with
real coal for engine, signals, red lamp and place to turn the engines
round.’
Barrington closed the book: `So you may as well have your things now,’
he continued, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone. `We’ll buy them
here; it will save me a lot of work. I shall not have the trouble of
taking them round to where you live. It’s lucky I happened to meet
you, isn’t it?’
The children were breathless with emotion, but they just managed to
gasp out that it was - very lucky.
As they followed him into the shop, Freddie was the only one of the
four whose condition was anything like normal. All the others were in
a half-dazed state. Frankie was afraid that he was not really awake
at all. It couldn’t be true; it must be a dream.
In addition to the hair, the horse was furnished with four wheels.
They did not have it made into a parcel, but tied some string to it
and handed it over to its new owner. The elder children were scarcely
conscious of what took place inside the shop; they knew that
Barrington was talking to the shopman, but they did not hear what was
said - the sound seemed far away and unreal.
The shopman made the doll, the tea-set and the needlecase into one
parcel and gave it to Elsie. The railway, in a stout cardboard box,
was also wrapped up in brown paper, and Frankie’s heart nearly burst
when the man put the package into his arms.
When they came out of the toy shop they said `Good night’ to Frankie,
who went off carrying his parcel very carefully and feeling as if he
were walking on air. The others went into a provision merchant’s near
by, where the groceries were purchased and packed into the waggon.
Then Barrington, upon referring to the list to make quite certain that
he had not forgotten anything, found that Santa Claus had put down a
pair of boots each for Elsie and Charley, and when they went to buy
these, it was seen that their stockings were all ragged and full of
holes, so they went to a draper’s and bought some stocking also.
Barrington said that although they were not on the list, he was sure
Santa Claus would not object - he had probably meant them to have
them, but had forgotten to put them down.
The End
The following evening Barrington called at Owen’s place. He said he
was going home for the holidays and had come to say goodbye for a
time.
Owen had not been doing very well during these last few months,
although he was one of the few lucky ones who had had some small share
of work. Most of the money he earned went for rent, to pay which they
often had to go short of food. Lately his chest had become so bad
that the slightest exertion brought on fits of coughing and
breathlessness, which made it almost impossible to work even when he
had the opportunity; often it was only by an almost superhuman effort
of will that he was able to continue working at all. He contrived to
keep up appearances to a certain extent before Rushton, who, although
he knew that Owen was not so strong as the other men, was inclined to
overlook it so long as he was able to do his share of work, for Owen
was a very useful hand when things were busy. But lately some of the
men with whom he worked began to manifest dissatisfaction at having
him for a mate. When two men are working together, the master expects
to see two men’s work done, and if one of the two is not able to do
his share it makes it all the harder for the other.
He never had the money to go to a doctor to get advice, but earlier in
the winter he had obtained from Rushton a ticket for the local
hospital. Every Saturday throughout the year when the men were paid
they were expected to put a penny or twopence in the hospital box.
Contributions were obtained in this way from every firm and workshop
in the town. The masters periodically handed these boxes over to the
hospital authorities and received in return some tickets which they
gave to anyone who needed and asked for them. The employer had to
fill in the ticket or application form with the name and address of
the applicant, and to certify that in his opinion the individual was a
deserving case, `suitable to receive this charity’. In common with
the majority of workmen, Owen had a sort of horror of going for advice
to this hospital, but he was so ill that he stifled his pride and
went. It happened that it turned out to be more expensive than going
to a private doctor, for he had to be at the hospital at
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