The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists [61]
of some building. At another desk, or rather table, at the other side of the office, a young woman was sitting writing in a large ledger. There was a typewriting machine on the table at her side.
Rushton glanced up carelessly as Owen came in, but took no further notice of him.
`Just wait a minute,' Hunter said to Owen, and then, after conversing in a low tone with Rushton for a few minutes, the foreman put on his hat and went out of the office through the partition door which led into the front shop.
Owen stood waiting for Rushton to speak. He wondered why Hunter had sneaked off and felt inclined to open the door and call him back. One thing he was determined about: he meant to have some explanation: he would not submit tamely to be dismissed without any just reason.
When he had finished reading the letter, Rushton looked up, and, leaning comfortably back in his chair, he blew a cloud of smoke from his cigar, and said in an affable, indulgent tone, such as one might use to a child:
`You're a bit of a hartist, ain't yer?'
Owen was so surprised at this reception that he was for the moment unable to reply.
`You know what I mean,' continued Rushton; `decorating work, something like them samples of yours what's hanging up there.'
He noticed the embarrassment of Owen's manner, and was gratified. He thought the man was confused at being spoken to by such a superior person as himself.
Mr Rushton was about thirty-five years of age, with light grey eyes, fair hair and moustache, and his complexion was a whitey drab. He was tall - about five feet ten inches - and rather clumsily built; not corpulent, but fat - in good condition. He appeared to be very well fed and well cared for generally. His clothes were well made, of good quality and fitted him perfectly. He was dressed in a grey Norfolk suit, dark brown boots and knitted woollen stockings reaching to the knee.
He was a man who took himself very seriously. There was an air of pomposity and arrogant importance about him which - considering who and what he was - would have been entertaining to any observer gifted with a sense of humour.
`Yes,' replied Owen at last. `I can do a little of that sort of work, although of course I don't profess to be able to do it as well or as quickly as a man who does nothing else.'
`Oh, no, of course not, but I think you could manage this all right. It's that drawing-room at the `Cave'. Mr Sweater's been speaking to me about it. It seems that when he was over in Paris some time since he saw a room that took his fancy. The walls and ceiling was not papered, but painted: you know what I mean; sort of panelled out, and decorated with stencils and hand painting. This 'ere's a photer of it: it's done in a sort of JAPANESE fashion.'
He handed the photograph to Owen as he spoke. It represented a room, the walls and ceiling of which were decorated in a Moorish style.
`At first Mr Sweater thought of getting a firm from London to do it, but 'e gave up the idear on account of the expense; but if you can do it so that it doesn't cost too much, I think I can persuade 'im to go in for it. But if it's goin' to cost a lot it won't come off at all. 'E'll just 'ave a frieze put up and 'ave the room papered in the ordinary way.'
This was not true: Rushton said it in case Owen might want to be paid extra wages while doing the work. The truth was that Sweater was going to have the room decorated in any case, and intended to get a London firm to do it. He had consented rather unwillingly to let Rushton & Co. submit him an estimate, because he thought they would not be able to do the work satisfactorily.
Owen examined the photograph closely.
`Could you do anything like that in that room?'
`Yes, I think so,' replied Owen.
`Well, you know, I don't want you to start on the job and not be able to finish it. Can you do it or not?'
Rushton felt sure that Owen could do it, and was very desirous that he should undertake it, but he did not want him to know that. He wished to convey the impression that
Rushton glanced up carelessly as Owen came in, but took no further notice of him.
`Just wait a minute,' Hunter said to Owen, and then, after conversing in a low tone with Rushton for a few minutes, the foreman put on his hat and went out of the office through the partition door which led into the front shop.
Owen stood waiting for Rushton to speak. He wondered why Hunter had sneaked off and felt inclined to open the door and call him back. One thing he was determined about: he meant to have some explanation: he would not submit tamely to be dismissed without any just reason.
When he had finished reading the letter, Rushton looked up, and, leaning comfortably back in his chair, he blew a cloud of smoke from his cigar, and said in an affable, indulgent tone, such as one might use to a child:
`You're a bit of a hartist, ain't yer?'
Owen was so surprised at this reception that he was for the moment unable to reply.
`You know what I mean,' continued Rushton; `decorating work, something like them samples of yours what's hanging up there.'
He noticed the embarrassment of Owen's manner, and was gratified. He thought the man was confused at being spoken to by such a superior person as himself.
Mr Rushton was about thirty-five years of age, with light grey eyes, fair hair and moustache, and his complexion was a whitey drab. He was tall - about five feet ten inches - and rather clumsily built; not corpulent, but fat - in good condition. He appeared to be very well fed and well cared for generally. His clothes were well made, of good quality and fitted him perfectly. He was dressed in a grey Norfolk suit, dark brown boots and knitted woollen stockings reaching to the knee.
He was a man who took himself very seriously. There was an air of pomposity and arrogant importance about him which - considering who and what he was - would have been entertaining to any observer gifted with a sense of humour.
`Yes,' replied Owen at last. `I can do a little of that sort of work, although of course I don't profess to be able to do it as well or as quickly as a man who does nothing else.'
`Oh, no, of course not, but I think you could manage this all right. It's that drawing-room at the `Cave'. Mr Sweater's been speaking to me about it. It seems that when he was over in Paris some time since he saw a room that took his fancy. The walls and ceiling was not papered, but painted: you know what I mean; sort of panelled out, and decorated with stencils and hand painting. This 'ere's a photer of it: it's done in a sort of JAPANESE fashion.'
He handed the photograph to Owen as he spoke. It represented a room, the walls and ceiling of which were decorated in a Moorish style.
`At first Mr Sweater thought of getting a firm from London to do it, but 'e gave up the idear on account of the expense; but if you can do it so that it doesn't cost too much, I think I can persuade 'im to go in for it. But if it's goin' to cost a lot it won't come off at all. 'E'll just 'ave a frieze put up and 'ave the room papered in the ordinary way.'
This was not true: Rushton said it in case Owen might want to be paid extra wages while doing the work. The truth was that Sweater was going to have the room decorated in any case, and intended to get a London firm to do it. He had consented rather unwillingly to let Rushton & Co. submit him an estimate, because he thought they would not be able to do the work satisfactorily.
Owen examined the photograph closely.
`Could you do anything like that in that room?'
`Yes, I think so,' replied Owen.
`Well, you know, I don't want you to start on the job and not be able to finish it. Can you do it or not?'
Rushton felt sure that Owen could do it, and was very desirous that he should undertake it, but he did not want him to know that. He wished to convey the impression that