The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists [305]
broken cover on the top of the other coffin and pushed it under the bed out of the way. Then he selected the necessary screws and nails from the bag. and Hunter having by this time finished, they proceeded to screw down the lid. Then they lifted the coffin on to the tressels, covering it over with the sheet, and the appearance it then presented was so exactly similar to what they had seen when they first entered the room, that it caused the same thought to occur to all of them: Suppose Snatchum took it into his head to come there and take the body out again? If he were to do so and take it up to the cemetery they might be compelled to give up the certificate to him and then all their trouble would be lost.
After a brief consultation, they resolved that it would be safer to take the corpse on the handcart to the yard and keep it in the carpenter's shop until the funeral, which could take place from there. Crass and Sawkins accordingly lifted the coffin off the tressels, and - while Hunter held the light - proceeded to carry it downstairs, a task of considerable difficulty owing to the narrowness of the staircase and the landing. However, they got it down at last and, having put it on the handcart, covered it over with the black wrapper. It was still raining and the lamp in the cart was nearly out, so Sawkins trimmed the wick and relit it before they started.
Hunter wished them `Good-night' at the corner of the street, because it was not necessary for him to accompany them to the yard - they would be able to manage all that remained to be done by themselves. He said he would make the arrangements for the funeral as soon as he possibly could the next morning, and he would come to the job and let them know, as soon as he knew himself, at what time they would have to be in attendance to act as bearers. He had gone a little distance on his way when he stopped and turned back to them.
`It's not necessary for either of you to make a song about this business, you know,' he said.
The two men said that they quite understood that: he could depend on their keeping their mouths shut.
When Hunter had gone, Crass drew out his watch. It was a quarter to eleven. A little way down the road the lights of a public house were gleaming through the mist.
`We shall be just in time to get a drink before closing time if we buck up,' he said. And with this object they hurried on as fast as they could.
When they reached the tavern they left the cart standing by the kerb, and went inside, where Crass ordered two pints of four-ale, which he permitted Sawkins to pay for.
`How are we going on about this job?' inquired the latter after they had each taken a long drink, for they were thirsty after their exertions. `I reckon we ought to 'ave more than a bob for it, don't you? It's not like a ordinary "lift in".'
`Of course it ain't,' replied Crass. `We ought to 'ave about, say' - reflecting - `say arf a dollar each at the very least.'
`Little enough too,' said Sawkins. `I was going to say arf a crown, myself.'
Crass agreed that even half a crown would not be too much.
`'Ow are we going' on about chargin' it on our time sheets?' asked Sawkins, after a pause. `If we just put a "lift in", they might only pay us a bob as usual.'
As a rule when they had taken a coffin home, they wrote on their time sheets, `One lift in', for which they were usually paid one shilling, unless it happened to be a very high-class funeral, when they sometimes got one and sixpence. They were never paid by the hour for these jobs.
Crass smoked reflectively.
`I think the best way will be to put it like this,' he said at length. `"Philpot's funeral. One lift out and one lift in. Also takin' corpse to carpenter's shop." 'Ow would that do?'
Sawkins said that would be a very good way to put it, and they finished their beer just as the landlord intimated that it was closing time. The cart was standing where they left it, the black cloth saturated with the rain, which dripped mournfully from its sable folds.
When they reached
After a brief consultation, they resolved that it would be safer to take the corpse on the handcart to the yard and keep it in the carpenter's shop until the funeral, which could take place from there. Crass and Sawkins accordingly lifted the coffin off the tressels, and - while Hunter held the light - proceeded to carry it downstairs, a task of considerable difficulty owing to the narrowness of the staircase and the landing. However, they got it down at last and, having put it on the handcart, covered it over with the black wrapper. It was still raining and the lamp in the cart was nearly out, so Sawkins trimmed the wick and relit it before they started.
Hunter wished them `Good-night' at the corner of the street, because it was not necessary for him to accompany them to the yard - they would be able to manage all that remained to be done by themselves. He said he would make the arrangements for the funeral as soon as he possibly could the next morning, and he would come to the job and let them know, as soon as he knew himself, at what time they would have to be in attendance to act as bearers. He had gone a little distance on his way when he stopped and turned back to them.
`It's not necessary for either of you to make a song about this business, you know,' he said.
The two men said that they quite understood that: he could depend on their keeping their mouths shut.
When Hunter had gone, Crass drew out his watch. It was a quarter to eleven. A little way down the road the lights of a public house were gleaming through the mist.
`We shall be just in time to get a drink before closing time if we buck up,' he said. And with this object they hurried on as fast as they could.
When they reached the tavern they left the cart standing by the kerb, and went inside, where Crass ordered two pints of four-ale, which he permitted Sawkins to pay for.
`How are we going on about this job?' inquired the latter after they had each taken a long drink, for they were thirsty after their exertions. `I reckon we ought to 'ave more than a bob for it, don't you? It's not like a ordinary "lift in".'
`Of course it ain't,' replied Crass. `We ought to 'ave about, say' - reflecting - `say arf a dollar each at the very least.'
`Little enough too,' said Sawkins. `I was going to say arf a crown, myself.'
Crass agreed that even half a crown would not be too much.
`'Ow are we going' on about chargin' it on our time sheets?' asked Sawkins, after a pause. `If we just put a "lift in", they might only pay us a bob as usual.'
As a rule when they had taken a coffin home, they wrote on their time sheets, `One lift in', for which they were usually paid one shilling, unless it happened to be a very high-class funeral, when they sometimes got one and sixpence. They were never paid by the hour for these jobs.
Crass smoked reflectively.
`I think the best way will be to put it like this,' he said at length. `"Philpot's funeral. One lift out and one lift in. Also takin' corpse to carpenter's shop." 'Ow would that do?'
Sawkins said that would be a very good way to put it, and they finished their beer just as the landlord intimated that it was closing time. The cart was standing where they left it, the black cloth saturated with the rain, which dripped mournfully from its sable folds.
When they reached