Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell (read novel full TXT) 📖

Chapter 42

June

 

During the early part of May the weather was exceptionally bad, with

bitterly cold winds. Rain fell nearly every day, covering the roads

with a slush that penetrated the rotten leather of the cheap or

second-hand boots worn by the workmen. This weather had the effect of

stopping nearly all outside work, and also caused a lot of illness,

for those who were so fortunate as to have inside jobs frequently got

wet through on their way to work in the morning and had to work all

day in damp clothing, and with their boots saturated with water. It

was also a source of trouble to those of the men who had allotments,

because if it had been fine they would have been able to do something

to their gardens while they were out of work.

 

Newman had not succeeded in getting a job at the trade since he came

out of prison, but he tried to make a little money by hawking bananas.

Philpot - when he was at work - used often to buy a tanner’s or a

bob’s worth from him and give them to Mrs Linden’s children. On

Saturdays Old Joe used to waylay these children and buy them bags of

cakes at the bakers. One week when he knew that Mrs Linden had not

had much work to do, he devised a very cunning scheme to help her. He

had been working with Slyme, who was papering a large boarded ceiling

in a shop. It had to be covered with unbleached calico before it

could be papered and when the work was done there were a number of

narrow pieces of calico left over. These he collected and tore into

strips about six inches wide which he took round to Mrs Linden, and

asked her to sew them together, end to end, so as to make one long

strip: then this long strip had to be cut into four pieces of equal

length and the edges sewn together in such a manner that it would form

a long tube. Philpot told her that it was required for some work that

Rushton’s were doing, and said he had undertaken to get the sewing

done. The firm would have to pay for it, so she could charge a good

price.

 

`You see,’ he said with a wink, `this is one of those jobs where we

gets a chance to get some of our own back.’

 

Mary thought it was rather a strange sort of job, but she did as

Philpot directed and when he came for the stuff and asked how much it

was she said threepence: it had only taken about half an hour.

Philpot ridiculed this: it was not nearly enough. THEY were not

supposed to know how long it took: it ought to be a bob at the very

least. So, after some hesitation she made out a bill for that amount

on a half-sheet of notepaper. He brought her the money the next

Saturday afternoon and went off chuckling to himself over the success

of the scheme. It did not occur to him until the next day that he

might just as well have got her to make him an apron or two: and when

he did think of this he said that after all it didn’t matter, because

if he had done that it would have been necessary to buy new calico,

and anyhow, it could be done some other time.

 

Newman did not make his fortune out of the bananas - seldom more than

two shillings a day - and consequently he was very glad when Philpot

called at his house one evening and told him there was a chance of a

job at Rushton’s. Newman accordingly went to the yard the next

morning, taking his apron and blouse and his bag of tools with him,

ready to start work. He got there at about quarter to six and was

waiting outside when Hunter arrived. The latter was secretly very

glad to see him, for there was a rush of work in and they were short

of men. He did not let this appear, of course, but hesitated for a

few minutes when Newman repeated the usual formula: `Any chance of a

job, sir?’

 

`We wasn’t at all satisfied with you last time you was on, you know,’

said Misery. `Still, I don’t mind giving you another chance. But if

you want to hold your job you’ll have to move yourself a bit quicker

than you did before.’

 

Towards the end of the month things began to improve all round. The

weather became finer and more settled. As time went on the

improvement was maintained and nearly everyone was employed.

Rushton’s were so busy that they took on several other old hands who

had been sacked the previous year for being too slow.

 

Thanks to the influence of Crass, Easton was now regarded as one of

the regular hands. He had recently resumed the practice of spending

some of his evenings at the Cricketers. It is probable that even if

it had not been for his friendship with Crass, he would still have

continued to frequent the public house, for things were not very

comfortable at home. Somehow or other, Ruth and he seemed to be

always quarrelling, and he was satisfied that it was not always his

fault. Sometimes, after the day’s work was over he would go home

resolved to be good friends with her: he would plan on his way

homewards to suggest to her that they should have their tea and then

go out for a walk with the child. Once or twice she agreed, but on

each occasion, they quarrelled before they got home again. So after a

time he gave up trying to be friends with her and went out by himself

every evening as soon as he had had his tea.

 

Mary Linden, who was still lodging with them, could not help

perceiving their unhappiness: she frequently noticed that Ruth’s eyes

were red and swollen as if with crying, and she gently sought to gain

her confidence, but without success. On one occasion when Mary was

trying to advise her, Ruth burst out into a terrible fit of weeping,

but she would not say what was the cause - except that her head was

aching - she was not well, that was all.

 

Sometimes Easton passed the evening at the Cricketers but frequently

he went over to the allotments, where Harlow had a plot of ground.

Harlow used to get up about four o’clock in the morning and put in an

hour or so at his garden before going to work; and every evening as

soon as he had finished tea he used to go there again and work till it

was dark. Sometimes he did not go home to tea at all, but went

straight from work to the garden, and his children used to bring his

tea to him there in a glass bottle, with something to eat in a little

basket. He had four children, none of whom were yet old enough to go

to work, and as may be imagined, he found it a pretty hard struggle to

live. He was not a teetotaller, but as he often remarked, `what the

publicans got from him wouldn’t make them very fat’, for he often went

for weeks together without tasting the stuff, except a glass or two

with the Sunday dinner, which he did not regard as an unnecessary

expense, because it was almost as cheap as tea or coffee.

 

Fortunately his wife was a good needlewoman, and as sober and

industrious as himself; by dint of slaving incessantly from morning

till night she managed to keep her home fairly comfortable and the

children clean and decently dressed; they always looked respectable,

although they did not always have enough proper food to eat. They

looked so respectable that none of the `visiting ladies’ ever regarded

them as deserving cases.

 

Harlow paid fifteen shillings a year for his plot of ground, and

although it meant a lot of hard work it was also a source of pleasure

and some profit. He generally made a few shillings out of the

flowers, besides having enough potatoes and other vegetables to last

them nearly all the year.

 

Sometimes Easton went over to the allotments and lent Harlow a hand

with this gardening work, but whether he went there or to the

Cricketers, he usually returned home about half past nine, and then

went straight to bed, often without speaking a single word to Ruth,

who for her part seldom spoke to him except to answer something he

said,