The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists [95]
fiddle,' said Philpot with a delighted grin.
`'E's opin' Owen'll make a mess of it,' Easton whispered.
`Well, 'e'll be disappointed, mate,' answered Philpot. `I was workin' along of Owen for Pushem and Sloggem about two year ago, and I seen 'im do a job down at the Royal 'Otel - the smokin'-room ceilin' it was - and I can tell you it looked a bloody treat!'
`I've heard tell of it,' said Harlow.
`There's no doubt Owen knows 'is work,' remarked Easton, 'although 'e is a bit orf is onion about Socialism.'
`I don't know so much about that, mate,' returned Philpot. `I agree with a lot that 'e ses. I've often thought the same things meself, but I can't talk like 'im, 'cause I ain't got no 'ead for it.'
`I agree with some of it too,' said Harlow with a laugh, `but all the same 'e does say some bloody silly things, you must admit. For instance, that stuff about money bein' the cause of poverty.'
`Yes. I can't exactly see that meself,' agreed Philpot.
`We must tackle 'im about that at dinner-time,' said Harlow. `I should rather like to 'ear 'ow 'e makes it out.'
`For Gord's sake don't go startin' no arguments at dinner-time,' said Easton. `Leave 'im alone when 'e is quiet.'
`Yes; let's 'ave our dinner in peace, if possible,' said Philpot. `Sh!!' he added, hoarsely, suddenly holding up his hand warningly. They listened intently. It was evident from the creaking of the stairs that someone was crawling up them. Philpot instantly disappeared. Harlow lifted up the pail of whitewash and set it down again noisily.
`I think we'd better 'ave the steps and the plank over this side, Easton,' he said in a loud voice.
`Yes. I think that'll be the best way,' replied Easton.
While they were arranging their scaffold to do the ceiling Crass arrived on the landing. He made no remark at first, but walked into the room to see how many ceilings they had done.
`You'd better look alive, you chaps, he said as he went downstairs again. `If we don't get these ceilings finished by dinner-time, Nimrod's sure to ramp.'
`All right,' said Harlow, gruffly. `We'll bloody soon slosh 'em over.'
`Slosh' was a very suitable word; very descriptive of the manner in which the work was done. The cornices of the staircase ceilings were enriched with plaster ornaments. These ceilings were supposed to have been washed off, but as the men who were put to do that work had not been allowed sufficient time to do it properly, the crevices of the ornaments were still filled up with old whitewash, and by the time Harlow and Easton had `sloshed' a lot more whitewash on to them they were mere formless unsightly lumps of plaster. The `hands' who did the `washing off' were not to blame. They had been hunted away from the work before it was half done.
While Harlow and Easton were distempering these ceiling, Philpot and the other hands were proceeding with the painting in different parts of the inside of the house, and Owen, assisted by Bert, was getting on with the work in the drawing-room, striking chalk lines and measuring and setting out the different panels.
There were no `political' arguments that day at dinner-time, to the disappointment of Crass, who was still waiting for an opportunity to produce the Obscurer cutting. After dinner, when the others had all gone back to their work, Philpot unobtrusively returned to the kitchen and gathered up the discarded paper wrappers in which some of the men had brought their food. Spreading one of these open, he shook the crumbs from the others upon it. In this way and by picking up particles of bread from the floor, he collected a little pile of crumbs and crusts. To these he added some fragments that he had left from his own dinner. He then took the parcel upstairs and opening one of the windows threw the crumbs on to the roof of the portico. He had scarcely closed the window when two starlings fluttered down and began to eat. Philpot watching them furtively from behind the shutter. The afternoon passed uneventfully. From one till five seemed a very long time to
`'E's opin' Owen'll make a mess of it,' Easton whispered.
`Well, 'e'll be disappointed, mate,' answered Philpot. `I was workin' along of Owen for Pushem and Sloggem about two year ago, and I seen 'im do a job down at the Royal 'Otel - the smokin'-room ceilin' it was - and I can tell you it looked a bloody treat!'
`I've heard tell of it,' said Harlow.
`There's no doubt Owen knows 'is work,' remarked Easton, 'although 'e is a bit orf is onion about Socialism.'
`I don't know so much about that, mate,' returned Philpot. `I agree with a lot that 'e ses. I've often thought the same things meself, but I can't talk like 'im, 'cause I ain't got no 'ead for it.'
`I agree with some of it too,' said Harlow with a laugh, `but all the same 'e does say some bloody silly things, you must admit. For instance, that stuff about money bein' the cause of poverty.'
`Yes. I can't exactly see that meself,' agreed Philpot.
`We must tackle 'im about that at dinner-time,' said Harlow. `I should rather like to 'ear 'ow 'e makes it out.'
`For Gord's sake don't go startin' no arguments at dinner-time,' said Easton. `Leave 'im alone when 'e is quiet.'
`Yes; let's 'ave our dinner in peace, if possible,' said Philpot. `Sh!!' he added, hoarsely, suddenly holding up his hand warningly. They listened intently. It was evident from the creaking of the stairs that someone was crawling up them. Philpot instantly disappeared. Harlow lifted up the pail of whitewash and set it down again noisily.
`I think we'd better 'ave the steps and the plank over this side, Easton,' he said in a loud voice.
`Yes. I think that'll be the best way,' replied Easton.
While they were arranging their scaffold to do the ceiling Crass arrived on the landing. He made no remark at first, but walked into the room to see how many ceilings they had done.
`You'd better look alive, you chaps, he said as he went downstairs again. `If we don't get these ceilings finished by dinner-time, Nimrod's sure to ramp.'
`All right,' said Harlow, gruffly. `We'll bloody soon slosh 'em over.'
`Slosh' was a very suitable word; very descriptive of the manner in which the work was done. The cornices of the staircase ceilings were enriched with plaster ornaments. These ceilings were supposed to have been washed off, but as the men who were put to do that work had not been allowed sufficient time to do it properly, the crevices of the ornaments were still filled up with old whitewash, and by the time Harlow and Easton had `sloshed' a lot more whitewash on to them they were mere formless unsightly lumps of plaster. The `hands' who did the `washing off' were not to blame. They had been hunted away from the work before it was half done.
While Harlow and Easton were distempering these ceiling, Philpot and the other hands were proceeding with the painting in different parts of the inside of the house, and Owen, assisted by Bert, was getting on with the work in the drawing-room, striking chalk lines and measuring and setting out the different panels.
There were no `political' arguments that day at dinner-time, to the disappointment of Crass, who was still waiting for an opportunity to produce the Obscurer cutting. After dinner, when the others had all gone back to their work, Philpot unobtrusively returned to the kitchen and gathered up the discarded paper wrappers in which some of the men had brought their food. Spreading one of these open, he shook the crumbs from the others upon it. In this way and by picking up particles of bread from the floor, he collected a little pile of crumbs and crusts. To these he added some fragments that he had left from his own dinner. He then took the parcel upstairs and opening one of the windows threw the crumbs on to the roof of the portico. He had scarcely closed the window when two starlings fluttered down and began to eat. Philpot watching them furtively from behind the shutter. The afternoon passed uneventfully. From one till five seemed a very long time to