the ragged trousered philanthropists-第120章

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lf　and　the　child　to　provide　for。

At　first；　whenever　he　happened　to　meet　Owen；　they　used　to　speak　of　Ruth；　or　to　be　more　correct；　Easton　used　to　speak　of　her；　but　one　day　when　the　two　men　were　working　together　Owen　had　expressed　himself　rather　offensively。　　He　seemed　to　think　that　Easton　was　more　to　blame　than　she　was；　and　afterwards　they　avoided　the　subject；　although　Easton　found　it　difficult　to　avoid　the　thoughts　the　other　man's　words　suggested。

Now　and　then　he　heard　of　Ruth　and　learnt　that　she　was　still　working　at　the　same　place；　and　once　he　met　her　suddenly　and　unexpectedly　in　the　street。　　They　passed　each　other　hurriedly　and　he　did　not　see　the　scarlet　flush　that　for　an　instant　dyed　her　face；　nor　the　deathly　pallor　that　succeeded　it。

He　never　went　to　Owen's　place　or　sent　any　communication　to　Ruth；　nor　did　she　ever　send　him　any；　but　although　Easton　did　not　know　it　she　frequently　saw　Freddie；　for　when　Elsie　Linden　took　the　child　out　she　often　called　to　see　Mrs　Owen。

As　time　went　on　and　the　resentment　he　had　felt　towards　her　lost　its　first　bitterness；　Easton　began　to　think　there　was　perhaps　some　little　justification　for　what　Owen　had　said；　and　gradually　there　grew　within　him　an　immense　desire　for　reconciliation　…　to　start　afresh　and　to　forget　all　that　had　happened；　but　the　more　he　thought　of　this　the　more　hopeless　and　impossible　of　realization　it　seemed。

Although　perhaps　he　was　not　conscious　of　it；　this　desire　arose　solely　from　selfish　motives。　　The　money　he　earned　seemed　to　melt　away　almost　as　soon　as　he　received　it；　to　his　surprise　he　found　that　he　was　not　nearly　so　well　off　in　regard　to　personal　comfort　as　he　had　been　formerly；　and　the　house　seemed　to　grow　more　dreary　and　desolate　as　the　wintry　days　dragged　slowly　by。　　Sometimes　…　when　he　had　the　money　…　he　sought　forgetfulness　in　the　society　of　Crass　and　the　other　frequenters　of　the　Cricketers；　but　somehow　or　other　he　could　not　take　the　same　pleasure　in　the　conversation　of　these　people　as　formerly；　when　he　had　found　it　…　as　he　now　sometimes　wondered　to　remember　…　so　entertaining　as　to　almost　make　him　forget　Ruth's　existence。

One　evening　about　three　weeks　before　Christmas；　as　he　and　Owen　were　walking　homewards　together　from　work；　Easton　reverted　for　the　first　time　to　their　former　conversation。　　He　spoke　with　a　superior　air：　his　manner　and　tone　indicating　that　he　thought　he　was　behaving　with　great　generosity。　　He　would　be　willing　to　forgive　her　and　have　her　back；　he　said；　if　she　would　come：　but　he　would　never　be　able　to　tolerate　the　child。　　Of　course　it　might　be　sent　to　an　orphanage　or　some　similar　institution；　but　he　was　afraid　Ruth　would　never　consent　to　that；　and　he　knew　that　her　stepmother　would　not　take　it。

‘If　you　can　persuade　her　to　return　to　you；　we'll　take　the　child；'　said　Owen。

‘Do　you　think　your　wife　would　be　willing？'

‘She　has　already　suggested　doing　so。'

‘To　Ruth？'

‘No：　to　me。　　We　thought　it　a　possible　way　for　you；　and　my　wife　would　like　to　have　the　child。'

‘But　would　you　be　able　to　afford　it？'　said　Easton。

‘We　should　manage　all　right。'

‘Of　course；'　said　Easton；　‘if　Slyme　comes　back　he　might　agree　to　pay　something　for　its　keep。'

Owen　flushed。

‘I　wouldn't　take　his　money。'

After　a　long　pause　Easton　continued：　‘Would　you　mind　asking　Mrs　Owen　to　suggest　it　to　Ruth？'

‘If　you　like　I'll　get　her　to　suggest　it　…　as　a　message　from　you。'

‘What　I　meant；'　said　Easton　hesitatingly；　‘was　that　your　wife　might　just　suggest　it　…　casual　like　…　and　advise　her　that　it　would　be　the　best　way；　and　then　you　could　let　me　know　what　Ruth　said。'

‘No；'　replied　Owen；　unable　any　longer　to　control　his　resentment　of　the　other's　manner；　‘as　things　stand　now；　if　it　were　not　for　the　other　child；　I　should　advise　her　to　have　nothing　further　to　do　with　you。　You　seem　to　think　that　you　are　acting　a　very　generous　part　in　being　〃willing〃　to　have　her　back；　but　she's　better　off　now　than　she　was　with　you。　　I　see　no　reason　…　except　for　the　other　child　…　why　she　should　go　back　to　you。　　As　far　as　I　understand　it；　you　had　a　good　wife　and　you　ill…treated　her。'

‘I　never　ill…treated　her！　　I　never　raised　my　hand　to　her　…　at　least　only　once；　and　then　I　didn't　hurt　her。　　Does　she　say　I　ill…treated　her。'

‘Oh　no：　from　what　my　wife　tells　me　she　only　blames　herself；　but　I'm　drawing　my　own　conclusions。　　You　may　not　have　struck　her；　but　you　did　worse　…　you　treated　her　with　indifference　and　exposed　her　to　temptation。　　What　has　happened　is　the　natural　result　of　your　neglect　and　want　of　care　for　her。　　The　responsibility　for　what　has　happened　is　mainly　yours；　but　apparently　you　wish　to　pose　now　as　being　very　generous　and　to　〃forgive　her〃　…　you're　〃willing〃　to　take　her　back；　but　it　seems　to　me　that　it　would　be　more　fitting　that　you　should　ask　her　to　forgive　you。'

Easton　made　no　answer　and　after　a　long　silence　the　other　continued：

‘I　would　not　advise　her　to　go　back　to　you　on　such　terms　as　you　seem　to　think　right；　because　if　you　became　reconciled　on　such　terms　I　don't　think　either　of　you　could　be　happy。　　Your　only　chance　of　happiness　is　to　realize　that　you　have　both　done　wrong；　that　each　of　you　has　something　to　forgive；　to　forgive　and　never　speak　of　it　again。'

Easton　made　no　reply　and　a　few　minutes　afterwards；　their　ways　diverging；　they　wished　each　other　‘Good　night'。

They　were　working　for　Rushton　…　painting　the　outside　of　a　new　conservatory　at　Mr　Sweater's　house；　‘The　Cave'。　　This　job　was　finished　the　next　day　and　at　four　o'clock　the　boy　brought　the　handcart；　which　they　loaded　with　their　ladders　and　other　materials。　　They　took　these　back　to　the　yard　and　then；　as　it　was　Friday　night；　they　went　up　to　the　front　shop　and　handed　in　their　time　sheets。　　Afterwards；　as　they　were　about　to　separate；　Easton　again　referred　to　the　subject　of　their　conversation　of　the　previous　evening。　　He　had　been　very　reserved　and　silent　all　day；　scarcely　uttering　a　word　except　when　the　work　they　had　been　engaged　in　made　it　necessary　to　do　so；　and　there　was　now　a　sort　of　catch　in　his　voice　as　he　spoke。

‘I've　been　thinking　over　what　you　said　last　night；　it's　quite　true。　I've　been　a　great　deal　to　blame。　　I　wrote　to　Ruth　last　night　and　admitted　it　to　her。　　I'll　take　it　as　a　favour　if　you　and　your　wife　will　say　what　you　can　to　help　me　get　her　back。'

Owen　stretched　out　his　hand　and　as　the　other　took　it；　said：　‘You　may　rely　on　us　both　to　do　our　best。'



Chapter　51

The　Widow's　Son


The　next　morning　when　they　went　to　the　yard　at　half　past　eight　o'clock　Hunter　told　them　that　there　was　nothing　to　do；　but　that　they　had　better　come　on　Monday　in　case　some　work　came　in。　　They　accordingly　went　on　the　Monday；　and　Tuesday　and　Wednesday；　but　as　nothing　‘came　in'　of　course　they　did　not　do　any　work。　　On　Thursday　morning　the　weather　was　dark　and　bitterly　cold。　　The　sky　presented　an　unbroken　expanse　of　dull　grey　and　a　keen　north　wind　swept　through　the　cheerless　streets。　　Owen　…　who　had　caught　cold　whilst　painting　the　outside　of　the　conservatory　at　Sweater's　house　the　previous　week　…　did　not　get　to　the　yard　until　ten　o'clock。　　He　felt　so　ill　that　he　would　not　have　gone　at　all　if　they　had　not　needed　the　money　he　would　be　able　to　earn　if　there　was　anything　to　do。　　Strange　though　it　may　appear　to　the　advocates　of　thrift；　although　he　had　been　so　fortunate　as　to　be　in　employment　when　so　many　others　were　idle；　they　had　not　saved　any　money。　　On　the　contrary；　during　all　the　summer　they　had　not　been　able　to　afford　to　have　proper　food　or　clothing。　　Every　week　most　of　the　money　went　to　pay　arrears　of　rent　or　some　other　debts；　so　that　even　whilst　he　was　at　work　they　had　often　to　go　without　some　of　the　necessaries　of　life。　　They　had　broken　boots；　shabby；　insufficient　clothing；　and　barely　enough　to　eat。

The　weather　had　become　so　bitterly　cold　that；　fearing　he　would　be　laid　up　if　he　went　without　it　any　longer；　he　took　his　overcoat　out　of　pawn；　and　that　week　they　had　to　almost　starve。　　Not　that　it　was　much　better　other　weeks；　for　lately　he　had　only　been　making　six　and　a　half　hours　a　day　…　from　eight…thirty　in　the　morning　till　four　o'clock　in　the　evening；　and　on　Saturday　only　four　and　a　half　hours　…　from　half　past　eight　till　one。　　This　made　his　wages　…　at　sevenpence　an　hour　…　twenty…one　shillings　and　sevenpence　a　week　…　that　is；　when　there　was　work　to　do　every　day；　which　was　not　always。　　Sometimes　they　had　to　stand　idle　three　days　out　of　six。　　The　wages　of　those　who　got　sixpence　halfpenny　came　out　at　one　pound　and　twopence　…　when　they　worked　every　day　…　and　as　for　those　who　…　like　Sawkins　…　received　only　fivepence；　their　week's　wages　amounted　to　fifteen　and　sixpence。

When　they　were　only　employed　for　two　or　three　days　or　perhaps　only　a　few　hours；　their　‘Saturday　night'　sometimes　amounted　to　half　a　sovereign；　seven　and　sixpence；　five　shillings　or　even　less。　　Then　most　of　them　said　that　it　was　better　than　nothing　at　all。

Many　of　them　were　married　men；　so；　in　order　to　make　existence　possible；　their　wives　went　out　charing　or　worked　in　laundries。　　They　had　children　whom　they　had　to　bring　up　for　the　most　part　on　‘skim'　milk；　bread；　margarine；　and　adulterated　tea。　　Many　of　these　children　…　little　mites　of　eight　or　nine　years　…　went　to　work　for　two　or　three　hours　in　the　morning　before　going　to　school；　the　same　in　the　evening　after　school；　and　all　day　on　Saturday；　carrying　butchers'　trays　loaded　with　meat；　baskets　of　groceries　and　vegetables；　cans　of　paraffin　oil；　selling　or　delivering　newspapers；　and　carrying　milk。　　As　soon　as　they　were　old　enough　they　got　Half　Time　certificates　and　directly　they　were　fourteen　they　left　school　altogether　and　went　to　work　all　the　day。　When　they　were　old　enough　some　of　them　tried　to　join　the　Army　or　Navy；　but　were　found　physically　unfit。

It　is　not　much　to　be　wondered　at　that　when　they　became　a　little　older　they　were　so　degenerate　intellectually　that　they　imagined　that　the　surest　way　to　obtain　better　conditions　would　be　to　elect　gangs　of　Liberal　and　Tory　land…grabbers；　sweaters；　swindlers　and　lawyers　to　rule　over　them。

When　Owen　arrived　at　the　yard　he　found　Bert　White　cleaning　out　the　dirty　pots　in　the　paint…shop。　　The　noise　he　made　with　the　scraping　knife　prevented　him　from　hearing　Owen's　approach　and　the　latter　stood　watching　him　for　some　minutes　without　speaking。　　The　stone　floor　of　the　paint　shop　was　damp　and　shiny　and　the　whole　place　was　chilly　as　a　tomb。　　The　boy　was　trembling　with　cold　and　he　looked　pitifully　undersized　and　frail　as　he　bent　over　his　work　with　an　old　apron　girt　about　him。　　Because　it　was　so　cold　he　was　wearing　his　jacket　with　the　ends　of　the　sleeves　turned　back　to　keep　them　clean；　or　to　prevent　them　getting　any　dirtier；　for　they　were　already　in　the　same　condition　as　the　rest　of　his　attire；　which　was　thickly　encrusted　with　dried　paint　of　many　colours；　and　his　hands　and　fingernails　were　grimed　with　it。

As　he　watched　the　poor　boy　bending　over　his　task；　Owen　thought　of　Frankie；　and　with　a　feeling　akin　to　terror　wondered　whether　he　would　ever　be　in　a　similar　plight。

When　he　saw　Owen；　the　boy　left　off　working　and　wished　him　good　morning；　remarking　that　it　was　very　cold。

‘Why　don't　you　light　a　fire？　　There's　lots　of　wood　lying　about　the　yard。'

‘No；'　said　Bert　shaking　his　head。　　‘That　would　never　do！　　Misery　wouldn't　'arf　ramp　if　'e　caught　me　at　it。　　I　used　to