第85章

`I wonder if they've started anyone yet on the venetian blinds for this 'ouse?' remarked Easton after a pause.

`I don't know,' replied Philpot.

They relapsed into silence for a while.

`I wonder what time it is?' said Philpot at length.`I don't know 'ow you feel, but I begin to want my dinner.'

`That's just what I was thinking; it can't be very far off it now.

It's nearly 'arf an hour since Bert went down to make the tea.It seems a 'ell of a long morning to me.'

`So it does to me,' said Philpot; `slip upstairs and ask Slyme what time it is.'

Harlow laid his brush across the top of his paint-pot and went upstairs.He was wearing a pair of cloth slippers, and walked softly, not wishing that Crass should hear him leaving his work, so it happened that without any intention of spying on Slyme, Harlow reached the door of the room in which the former was working without being heard and, entering suddenly, surprised Slyme - who was standing near the fireplace - in the act of breaking a whole roll of wallpaper across his knee as one might break a stick.On the floor beside him was what had been another roll, now broken into two pieces.When Harlow came in, Slyme started, and his face became crimson with confusion.He hastily gathered the broken rolls together and, stooping down, thrust the pieces up the flue of the grate and closed the register.

`Wot's the bloody game?' inquired Harlow.

Slyme laughed with an affectation of carelessness, but his hands trembled and his face was now very pale.

`We must get our own back somehow, you know, Fred,' he said.

Harlow did not reply.He did not understand.After puzzling over it for a few minutes, he gave it up.

`What's the time?' he asked.

`Fifteen minutes to twelve,' said Slyme and added, as Harlow was going away: `Don't mention anything about that paper to Crass or any of the others.'

`I shan't say nothing,' replied Harlow.

Gradually, as he pondered over it, Harlow began to comprehend the meaning of the destruction of the two rolls of paper.Slyme was doing the paperhanging piecework - so much for each roll hung.Four of the rooms upstairs had been done with the same pattern, and Hunter - who was not over-skilful in such matters - had evidently sent more paper than was necessary.By getting rid of these two rolls, Slyme would be able to make it appear that he had hung two rolls more than was really the case.He had broken the rolls so as to be able to take them away from the house without being detected, and he had hidden them up the chimney until he got an opportunity of so doing.Harlow had just arrived at this solution of the problem when, hearing the lower flight of stairs creaking, he peeped over and observed Misery crawling up.

He had come to see if anyone had stopped work before the proper time.

Passing the two workmen without speaking, he ascended to the next floor, and entered the room where Slyme was.

`You'd better not do this room yet,' said Hunter.`There's to be a new grate and mantelpiece put in.'

He crossed over to the fireplace and stood looking at it thoughtfully for a few minutes.

`It's not a bad little grate, you know, is it?' he remarked.`We'll be able to use it somewhere or other.'

`Yes; it's all right,' said Slyme, whose heart was beating like a steam-hammer.

`Do for a front room in a cottage,' continued Misery, stooping down to examine it more closely.`There's nothing broke that I can see.'

He put his hand against the register and vainly tried to push it open.

`H'm, there's something wrong 'ere,' he remarked, pushing harder.

`Most likely a brick or some plaster fallen down,' gasped Slyme, coming to Misery's assistance.`Shall I try to open it?'

`Don't trouble,' replied Nimrod, rising to his feet.`It's most likely what you say.I'll see that the new grate is sent up after dinner.Bundy can fix it this afternoon and then you can go on papering as soon as you like.'

With this, Misery went out of the room, downstairs and away from the house, and Slyme wiped the sweat from his forehead with his handkerchief.Then he knelt down and, opening the register, he took out the broken rolls of paper and hid them up the chimney of the next room.While he was doing this the sound of Crass's whistle shrilled through the house.

`Thank Gord!' exclaimed Philpot fervently as he laid his brushes on the top of his pot and joined in the general rush to the kitchen.The scene here is already familiar to the reader.For seats, the two pairs of steps laid on their sides parallel to each other, about eight feet apart and at right angles to the fireplace, with the long plank placed across; and the upturned pails and the drawers of the dresser.

The floor unswept and littered with dirt, scraps of paper, bits of plaster, pieces of lead pipe and dried mud; and in the midst, the steaming bucket of stewed tea and the collection of cracked cups, jam-jam and condensed milk tins.And on the seats the men in their shabby and in some cases ragged clothing sitting and eating their coarse food and cracking jokes.

It was a pathetic and wonderful and at the same time a despicable spectacle.Pathetic that human beings should be condemned to spend the greater part of their lives amid such surroundings, because it must be remembered that most of their time was spent on some job or other.When `The Cave' was finished they would go to some similar `job', if they were lucky enough to find one.Wonderful, because although they knew that they did more than their fair share of the great work of producing the necessaries and comforts of life, they did not think they were entitled to a fair share of the good things they helped to create! And despicable, because although they saw their children condemned to the same life of degradation, hard labour and privation, yet they refused to help to bring about a better state of affairs.Most of them thought that what had been good enough for themselves was good enough for their children.