The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists [54]
the sound was not such as would be made by a man heavily shod. It was not Misery, evidently.
As the footsteps entered the kitchen, Crass looked round and beheld a very tall, obese figure, with a large, fleshy, coarse-featured, clean-shaven face, and a great double chin, the complexion being of the colour and appearance of the fat of uncooked bacon. A very large fleshy nose and weak-looking pale blue eyes, the slightly inflamed lids being almost destitute of eye-lashes. He had large fat feet cased in soft calfskin boots, with drab-coloured spats. His overcoat, heavily trimmed with sealskin, reached just below the knees, and although the trousers were very wide they were filled by the fat legs within, the shape of the calves being distinctly perceptible. Even as the feet seemed about to burst the uppers of the boots, so the legs appeared to threaten the trousers with disruption. This man was so large that his figure completely filled up the doorway, and as he came in he stooped slightly to avoid damaging the glittering silk hat on his head. One gloved hand was thrust into the pocket of the overcoat and in the other he carried a small Gladstone bag.
When Crass beheld this being, he touched his cap respectfully.
`Good morning, sir!'
`Good morning. They told me upstairs that I should find the foreman here. Are you the foreman?'
`Yes, sir.'
`I see you're getting on with the work here.'
`Ho yes sir, we're beginning to make a bit hov a show now, sir,' replied Crass, speaking as if he had a hot potato in his mouth.
`Mr Rushton isn't here yet, I suppose?'
`No, sir: 'e don't horfun come hon the job hin the mornin, sir; 'e generally comes hafternoons, sir, but Mr 'Unter's halmost sure to be 'ere presently, sir.'
`It's Mr Rushton I want to see: I arranged to meet him here at ten o'clock; but' - looking at his watch - `I'm rather before my time.'
`He'll be here presently, I suppose,' added Mr Sweater. `I'll just take a look round till he comes.'
`Yes, sir,' responded Crass, walking behind him obsequiously as he went out of the room.
Hoping that the gentleman might give him a shilling, Crass followed him into the front hall and began explaining what progress had so far been made with the work, but as Mr Sweater answered only by monosyllables and grunts, Crass presently concluded that his conversation was not appreciated and returned to the kitchen.
Meantime, upstairs, Philpot had gone into Newman's room and was discussing with him the possibility of extracting from Mr Sweater the price of a little light refreshment.
`I think,' he remarked, `that we oughter see-ise this 'ere tuneropperty to touch 'im for an allowance.'
`We won't git nothin' out of 'IM, mate,' returned Newman. `'E's a red-'ot teetotaller.'
`That don't matter. 'Ow's 'e to know that we buys beer with it? We might 'ave tea, or ginger ale, or lime-juice and glycerine for all 'e knows!'
Mr Sweater now bgan ponderously re-ascending the stairs and presently came into the room where Philpot was. The latter greeted him with respectful cordiality:
`Good morning, sir.'
`Good morning. You've begun painting up here, then.'
`Yes, sir, we've made a start on it,' replied Philpot, affably.
`Is this door wet?' asked Sweater, glancing apprehensively at the sleeve of his coat.
`Yes, sir,' answered Philpot, and added, as he looked meaningly at the great man, `the paint is wet, sir, but the PAINTERS is dry.'
`Confound it!' exclaimed Sweater, ignoring, or not hearing the latter part of Philpot's reply. `I've got some of the beastly stuff on my coat sleeve.'
`Oh, that's nothing, sir,' cried Philpot, secretly delighted. `I'll get that orf for yer in no time. You wait just 'arf a mo!'
He had a piece of clean rag in his tool bag, and there was a can of turps in the room. Moistening the rag slightly with turps he carefully removed the paint from Sweater's sleeve.
`It's all orf not, sir,' he remarked, as he rubbed the place with a dry part of the rag. `The smell of the turps will go away in about a hour's
As the footsteps entered the kitchen, Crass looked round and beheld a very tall, obese figure, with a large, fleshy, coarse-featured, clean-shaven face, and a great double chin, the complexion being of the colour and appearance of the fat of uncooked bacon. A very large fleshy nose and weak-looking pale blue eyes, the slightly inflamed lids being almost destitute of eye-lashes. He had large fat feet cased in soft calfskin boots, with drab-coloured spats. His overcoat, heavily trimmed with sealskin, reached just below the knees, and although the trousers were very wide they were filled by the fat legs within, the shape of the calves being distinctly perceptible. Even as the feet seemed about to burst the uppers of the boots, so the legs appeared to threaten the trousers with disruption. This man was so large that his figure completely filled up the doorway, and as he came in he stooped slightly to avoid damaging the glittering silk hat on his head. One gloved hand was thrust into the pocket of the overcoat and in the other he carried a small Gladstone bag.
When Crass beheld this being, he touched his cap respectfully.
`Good morning, sir!'
`Good morning. They told me upstairs that I should find the foreman here. Are you the foreman?'
`Yes, sir.'
`I see you're getting on with the work here.'
`Ho yes sir, we're beginning to make a bit hov a show now, sir,' replied Crass, speaking as if he had a hot potato in his mouth.
`Mr Rushton isn't here yet, I suppose?'
`No, sir: 'e don't horfun come hon the job hin the mornin, sir; 'e generally comes hafternoons, sir, but Mr 'Unter's halmost sure to be 'ere presently, sir.'
`It's Mr Rushton I want to see: I arranged to meet him here at ten o'clock; but' - looking at his watch - `I'm rather before my time.'
`He'll be here presently, I suppose,' added Mr Sweater. `I'll just take a look round till he comes.'
`Yes, sir,' responded Crass, walking behind him obsequiously as he went out of the room.
Hoping that the gentleman might give him a shilling, Crass followed him into the front hall and began explaining what progress had so far been made with the work, but as Mr Sweater answered only by monosyllables and grunts, Crass presently concluded that his conversation was not appreciated and returned to the kitchen.
Meantime, upstairs, Philpot had gone into Newman's room and was discussing with him the possibility of extracting from Mr Sweater the price of a little light refreshment.
`I think,' he remarked, `that we oughter see-ise this 'ere tuneropperty to touch 'im for an allowance.'
`We won't git nothin' out of 'IM, mate,' returned Newman. `'E's a red-'ot teetotaller.'
`That don't matter. 'Ow's 'e to know that we buys beer with it? We might 'ave tea, or ginger ale, or lime-juice and glycerine for all 'e knows!'
Mr Sweater now bgan ponderously re-ascending the stairs and presently came into the room where Philpot was. The latter greeted him with respectful cordiality:
`Good morning, sir.'
`Good morning. You've begun painting up here, then.'
`Yes, sir, we've made a start on it,' replied Philpot, affably.
`Is this door wet?' asked Sweater, glancing apprehensively at the sleeve of his coat.
`Yes, sir,' answered Philpot, and added, as he looked meaningly at the great man, `the paint is wet, sir, but the PAINTERS is dry.'
`Confound it!' exclaimed Sweater, ignoring, or not hearing the latter part of Philpot's reply. `I've got some of the beastly stuff on my coat sleeve.'
`Oh, that's nothing, sir,' cried Philpot, secretly delighted. `I'll get that orf for yer in no time. You wait just 'arf a mo!'
He had a piece of clean rag in his tool bag, and there was a can of turps in the room. Moistening the rag slightly with turps he carefully removed the paint from Sweater's sleeve.
`It's all orf not, sir,' he remarked, as he rubbed the place with a dry part of the rag. `The smell of the turps will go away in about a hour's