The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists [52]
deal of the work which was formerly done by human beings is now being done by machinery. This machinery belongs to a few people: it is worked for the benefit of those few, just the same as were the human beings it displaced. These Few have no longer any need of the services of so many human workers, so they propose to exterminate them! The unnecessary human beings are to be allowed to starve to death! And they are also to be taught that it is wrong to marry and breed children, because the Sacred Few do not require so many people to work for them as before!'
`Yes, and you'll never be able to prevent it, mate!' shouted Crass.
`Why can't we?'
`Because it can't be done!' cried Crass fiercely. `It's impossible!'
`You're always sayin' that everything's all wrong,' complained Harlow, `but why the 'ell don't you tell us 'ow they're goin' to be put right?'
`It doesn't seem to me as if any of you really wish to know. I believe that even if it were proved that it could be done, most of you would be sorry and would do all you could to prevent it.'
`'E don't know 'isself,' sneered Crass. `Accordin' to 'im, Tariff Reform ain't no bloody good - Free Trade ain't no bloody good, and everybody else is wrong! But when you arst 'im what ought to be done - 'e's flummoxed.'
Crass did not feel very satisfied with the result of this machinery argument, but he consoled himself with the reflection that he would be able to flatten out his opponent on another subject. The cutting from the Obscurer which he had in his pocket would take a bit of answering! When you have a thing in print - in black and white - why there it is, and you can't get away from it! If it wasn't right, a paper like that would never have printed it. However, as it was now nearly half past eight, he resolved to defer this triumph till another occasion. It was too good a thing to be disposed of in a hurry.
Chapter 8
The Cap on the Stairs
After breakfast, when they were working together in the drawing-room, Easton, desiring to do Owen a good turn, thought he would put him on his guard, and repeated to him in a whisper the substance of the conversation he had held with Crass concerning him.
`Of course, you needn't mention that I told you, Frank,' he said, `but I thought I ought to let you know: you can take it from me, Crass ain't no friend of yours.'
`I've know that for a long time, mate,' replied Owen. `Thanks for telling me, all the same.'
`The bloody rotter's no friend of mine either, or anyone else's, for that matter,' Easton continued, `but of course it doesn't do to fall out with 'im because you never know what he'd go and say to ol' 'Unter.'
`Yes, one has to remember that.'
`Of course we all know what's the matter with 'im as far as YOU'RE concerned,' Easton went on. `He don't like 'avin' anyone on the firm wot knows more about the work than 'e does 'imself - thinks 'e might git worked out of 'is job.'
Owen laughed bitterly.
`He needn't be afraid of ME on THAT account. I wouldn't have his job if it were offered to me.'
`But 'e don't think so,' replied Easton, `and that's why 'e's got 'is knife into you,'
`I believe that what he said about Hunter is true enough,' said Owen. `Every time he comes here he tries to goad me into doing or saying something that would give him an excuse to tell me to clear out. I might have done it before now if I had not guessed what he was after, and been on my guard.'
Meantime, Crass, in the kitchen, had resumed his seat by the fire with the purpose of finishing his pipe of tobacco. Presently he took out his pocket-book and began to write in it with a piece of black-lead pencil. When the pipe was smoked out he knocked the bowl against the grate to get rid of the ash, and placed the pipe in his waistcoat pocket. Then, having torn out the leaf on which he had been writing, he got up and went into the pantry, where Bert was still struggling with the old whitewash.
`Ain't yer nearly finished? I don't want yer to stop in 'ere all day, yer know.'
`I ain't got much
`Yes, and you'll never be able to prevent it, mate!' shouted Crass.
`Why can't we?'
`Because it can't be done!' cried Crass fiercely. `It's impossible!'
`You're always sayin' that everything's all wrong,' complained Harlow, `but why the 'ell don't you tell us 'ow they're goin' to be put right?'
`It doesn't seem to me as if any of you really wish to know. I believe that even if it were proved that it could be done, most of you would be sorry and would do all you could to prevent it.'
`'E don't know 'isself,' sneered Crass. `Accordin' to 'im, Tariff Reform ain't no bloody good - Free Trade ain't no bloody good, and everybody else is wrong! But when you arst 'im what ought to be done - 'e's flummoxed.'
Crass did not feel very satisfied with the result of this machinery argument, but he consoled himself with the reflection that he would be able to flatten out his opponent on another subject. The cutting from the Obscurer which he had in his pocket would take a bit of answering! When you have a thing in print - in black and white - why there it is, and you can't get away from it! If it wasn't right, a paper like that would never have printed it. However, as it was now nearly half past eight, he resolved to defer this triumph till another occasion. It was too good a thing to be disposed of in a hurry.
Chapter 8
The Cap on the Stairs
After breakfast, when they were working together in the drawing-room, Easton, desiring to do Owen a good turn, thought he would put him on his guard, and repeated to him in a whisper the substance of the conversation he had held with Crass concerning him.
`Of course, you needn't mention that I told you, Frank,' he said, `but I thought I ought to let you know: you can take it from me, Crass ain't no friend of yours.'
`I've know that for a long time, mate,' replied Owen. `Thanks for telling me, all the same.'
`The bloody rotter's no friend of mine either, or anyone else's, for that matter,' Easton continued, `but of course it doesn't do to fall out with 'im because you never know what he'd go and say to ol' 'Unter.'
`Yes, one has to remember that.'
`Of course we all know what's the matter with 'im as far as YOU'RE concerned,' Easton went on. `He don't like 'avin' anyone on the firm wot knows more about the work than 'e does 'imself - thinks 'e might git worked out of 'is job.'
Owen laughed bitterly.
`He needn't be afraid of ME on THAT account. I wouldn't have his job if it were offered to me.'
`But 'e don't think so,' replied Easton, `and that's why 'e's got 'is knife into you,'
`I believe that what he said about Hunter is true enough,' said Owen. `Every time he comes here he tries to goad me into doing or saying something that would give him an excuse to tell me to clear out. I might have done it before now if I had not guessed what he was after, and been on my guard.'
Meantime, Crass, in the kitchen, had resumed his seat by the fire with the purpose of finishing his pipe of tobacco. Presently he took out his pocket-book and began to write in it with a piece of black-lead pencil. When the pipe was smoked out he knocked the bowl against the grate to get rid of the ash, and placed the pipe in his waistcoat pocket. Then, having torn out the leaf on which he had been writing, he got up and went into the pantry, where Bert was still struggling with the old whitewash.
`Ain't yer nearly finished? I don't want yer to stop in 'ere all day, yer know.'
`I ain't got much