Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell (read novel full TXT) 📖
- Author: Robert Tressell
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firm ‘adn’t cut this job so fine, some other firm would ‘ave ‘ad it
for more money. Rushton’s cuttin’ it fine didn’t MAKE this job, did
it? It would ‘ave been done just the same if they ‘adn’t tendered for
it at all! The only difference is that we should ‘ave been workin’
for some other master.’
`I don’t believe the bloody job’s cut fine at all!’ said Philpot.
`Rushton is a pal of Sweater’s and they’re both members of the Town
Council.’
`That may be,’ replied Slyme; ‘but all the same I believe Sweater got
several other prices besides Rushton’s - friend or no friend; and you
can’t blame ‘im: it’s only business. But pr’aps Rushton got the
preference - Sweater may ‘ave told ‘im the others’ prices.’
`Yes, and a bloody fine lot of prices they was, too, if the truth was
known!’ said Bundy. “There was six other firms after this job to my
knowledge - Pushem and Sloggem, Bluffum and Doemdown, Dodger and
Scampit, Snatcham and Graball, Smeeriton and Leavit, Makehaste and
Sloggitt, and Gord only knows ‘ow many more.’
At this moment Newman came into the room. He looked so white and
upset that the others involuntarily paused in their conversation.
`Well, what do YOU think of it?’ asked Harlow.
`Think of what?’ said Newman.
`Why, didn’t ‘Unter tell you?’ cried several voices, whose owners
looked suspiciously at him. They thought - if Hunter had not spoken
to Newman, it must be because he was already working under price.
There had been a rumour going about the last few days to that effect.
`Didn’t Misery tell you? They’re not goin’ to pay more than six and a
half after this week.’
`That’s not what ‘e said to me. ‘E just told me to knock off. Said I
didn’t do enough for ‘em.’
`Jesus Christ!’ exclaimed Crass, pretending to be overcome with
surprise.
Newman’s account of what had transpired was listened to in gloomy
silence. `Those who - a few minutes previously - had been talking
loudly of chucking up the job became filled with apprehension that
they might be served in the same manner as he had been. Crass was one
of the loudest in his expression of astonishment and indignation, but
he rather overdid it and only succeeded in confirming the secret
suspicion of the others that he had had something to do with Hunter’s
action.
The result of the discussion was that they decided to submit to
Misery’s terms for the time being, until they could see a chance of
getting work elsewhere.
As Owen had to go to the office to see the wallpaper spoken of by
Hunter, he accompanied Newman when the latter went to get his wages.
Nimrod was waiting for them, and had the money ready in an envelope,
which he handed to Newman, who took it without speaking and went away.
Misery had been rummaging amongst the old wallpapers, and had got out
a great heap of odd rolls, which he now submitted to Owen, but after
examining them the latter said that they were unsuitable for the
purpose, so after some argument Misery was compelled to sign an order
for some proper cartridge paper, which Owen obtained at a stationer’s
on his way home.
The next morning, when Misery went to the `Cave’, he was in a fearful
rage, and he kicked up a terrible row with Crass. He said that Mr
Rushton had been complaining of the lack of discipline on the job, and
he told Crass to tell all the hands that for the future singing in
working hours was strictly forbidden, and anyone caught breaking this
rule would be instantly dismissed.
Several times during the following days Nimrod called at Owen’s flat
to see how the work was progressing and to impress upon him the
necessity of not taking too much trouble over it.
The Rev. John Starr
`What time is it now, Mum?’ asked Frankie as soon as he had finished
dinner on the following Sunday.
`Two o’clock.’
`Hooray! Only one more hour and Charley will be here! Oh, I wish it
was three o’clock now, don’t you, Mother?’
`No, dear, I don’t. You’re not dressed yet, you know.’
Frankie made a grimace.
`You’re surely not going to make me wear my velvets, are you, Mum?
Can’t I go just as I am, in my old clothes?’
The `velvets’ was a brown suit of that material that Nora had made out
of the least worn parts of an old costume of her own.
`Of course not: if you went as you are now, you’d have everyone
staring at you.’
`Well, I suppose I’ll have to put up with it,’ said Frankie,
resignedly.
`And I think you’d better begin to dress me now, don’t you?’
`Oh, there’s plenty of time yet; you’d only make yourself untidy and
then I should have the trouble all over again. Play with your toys a
little while, and when I’ve done the washing up I’ll get you ready.’
Frankie obeyed, and for about ten minutes his mother heard him in the
next room rummaging in the box where he stored his collection of
`things’. At the end of that time, however, he returned to the
kitchen. `Is it time to dress me yet, Mum?’
`No, dear, not yet. You needn’t be afraid; you’ll be ready in plenty
of time.’
`But I can’t help being afraid; you might forget.’
`Oh, I shan’t forget. There’s lots of time.’
`Well, you know, I should be much easier in my mind if you would dress
me now, because perhaps our clock’s wrong, or p’r’aps when you begin
dressing me you’ll find some buttons off or something, and then
there’ll be a lot of time wasted sewing them on; or p’r’aps you won’t
be able to find my clean stockings or something and then while you’re
looking for it Charley might come, and if he sees I’m not ready he
mightn’t wait for me.’
`Oh, dear!’ said Nora, pretending to be alarmed at this appalling list
of possibilities. `I suppose it will be safer to dress you at once.
It’s very evident you won’t let me have much peace until it is done,
but mind when you’re dressed you’ll have to sit down quietly and wait
till he comes, because I don’t want the trouble of dressing you
twice.’
`Oh, I don’t mind sitting still,’ returned Frankie, loftily. `That’s
very easy.
`I don’t mind having to take care of my clothes,’ said Frankie as his
mother - having washed and dressed him, was putting the finishing
touches to his hair, brushing and combing and curling the long yellow
locks into ringlets round her fingers, `the only thing I don’t like is
having my hair done. You know all these curls are quite unnecessary.
I’m sure it would save you a lot of trouble if you wouldn’t mind
cutting them off.’
Nora did not answer: somehow or other she was unwilling to comply with
this often-repeated entreaty. It seemed to her that when this hair
was cut off the child would have become a different individual - more
separate and independent.
`If you don’t want to cut it off for your own sake, you might do it
for my sake, because I think it’s the reason some of the big boys
don’t want to play with me, and some of them shout after me and say
I’m a girl, and sometimes they sneak up behind me and pull it. Only
yesterday I had to have a fight with a boy for doing it: and even
Charley Linden laughs at me, and he’s my best friend - except you and
Dad of course.
`Why don’t you cut it off, Mum?’
`I am going to cut it as I promised you, after your next birthday.’
`Then I shall be jolly glad when it comes. Won’t you? Why, what’s
the matter, Mum? What are you crying for?’ Frankie was so concerned
that he began to cry also, wondering if he had done or said something
wrong. He kissed her repeatedly, stroking her face with his hand.
What’s the matter, Mother?’
`I was thinking that when you’re over seven and you’ve had your hair
cut short you won’t be a baby any more.’
`Why, I’m not a baby now, am I? Here, look at this!’
He strode over to the wall and, dragging out two chairs, he placed
them in the middle of the room, back to back, about fifteen inches
apart, and before his mother realized what he was doing he had climbed
up and stood with one leg on the back of each chair.
`I should like to see a baby who could do this,’ he cried, with his
face wet with tears. `You needn’t lift me down. I can get down by
myself. Babies can’t do tricks like these or even wipe up the spoons
and forks or sweep the passage. But you needn’t cut it off if you
don’t want to. I’ll bear it as long as you like. Only don’t cry any
more, because it makes me miserable. If I cry when I fall down or
when you pull my hair when you’re combing it you always tell me to
bear it like a man and not be a baby, and now you’re crying yourself
just because I’m not a baby. You ought to be jolly glad that I’m
nearly grown up into a man, because you know I’ve promised to build
you a house with the money I earn, and then you needn’t do no more
work. We’ll have a servant the same as the people downstairs, and Dad
can stop at home and sit by the fire and read the paper or play with
me and Maud and have pillow fights and tell stories and -‘
`It’s all right, dearie,’ said Nora, kissing him. `I’m not crying
now, and you mustn’t either, or your eyes will be all red and you
won’t be able to go with Charley at all.’
When she had finished dressing him, Frankie sat for some time in
silence, apparently lost in thought. At last he said:
`Why don’t you get a baby, Mother? You could nurse it, and I could
have it to play with instead of going out in the street.’
`We can’t afford to keep a baby, dear. You know, even as it is,
sometimes we have to go without things we want because we haven’t the
money to buy them. Babies need many things that cost lots of money.’
`When I build our house when I’m a man, I’ll take jolly good care not
to have a gas-stove in it. That’s what runs away with all the money;
we’re always putting pennies in the slot. And that reminds me:
Charley said I’ll have to take a ha’penny to put in the mishnery box.
Oh, dear, I’m tired of sitting still. I wish he’d come. What time is
it now, Mother?’
Before she could answer both Frankie’s anxiety and the painful ordeal
of sitting still were terminated by the loud peal at the bell
announcing Charley’s arrival, and Frankie, without troubling to
observe the usual formality of looking out of the window to see if it
was a runaway ring, had clattered half-way downstairs before he heard
his mother calling him to come back for the halfpenny; then he
clattered up again and then down again at such a rate and with so much
noise as to rouse the indignation of all the respectable people in the
house.
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