the ragged trousered philanthropists-第14章

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　　　　　　　　　　　'To　dear　mother；　from　her　loving　son；　Tom。　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Wishing　her　many　happy　birthdays。'

‘But　he　never　had　another　birthday　himself；　because　just　five　months　afterwards　he　were　sent　out　to　Africa；　and　he'd　only　been　there　five　weeks　when　he　died。　　Five　years　ago；　come　the　fifteenth　of　next　month。'

Owen；　inwardly　regretting　that　he　had　unintentionally　broached　so　painful　a　subject；　tried　to　think　of　some　suitable　reply；　but　had　to　content　himself　with　murmuring　some　words　of　admiration　of　the　work。

As　he　wished　her　good　night；　the　old　woman；　looking　at　him；　could　not　help　observing　that　he　appeared　very　frail　and　ill：　his　face　was　very　thin　and　pale；　and　his　eyes　were　unnaturally　bright。

Possibly　the　Lord　in　His　infinite　loving　kindness　and　mercy　was　chastening　this　unhappy　castaway　in　order　that　He　might　bring　him　to　Himself。　　After　all；　he　was　not　altogether　bad：　it　was　certainly　very　thoughtful　of　him　to　come　all　this　way　to　let　John　know　about　that　job。　　She　observed　that　he　had　no　overcoat；　and　the　storm　was　still　raging　fiercely　outside；　furious　gusts　of　wind　frequently　striking　the　house　and　shaking　it　to　its　very　foundations。

The　natural　kindliness　of　her　character　asserted　itself；　her　better　feelings　were　aroused；　triumphing　momentarily　over　the　bigotry　of　her　religious　opinions。

‘Why；　you　ain't　got　no　overcoat！'　she　exclaimed。　　‘You'll　be　soaked　goin'　'ome　in　this　rain。'　　Then；　turning　to　her　husband；　she　continued：　‘There's　that　old　one　of　yours；　you　might　lend　him　that；　it　would　be　better　than　nothing。'

But　Owen　would　not　hear　of　this：　he　thought；　as　he　became　very　conscious　of　the　clammy　feel　of　his　saturated　clothing；　that　he　could　not　get　much　wetter　than　he　already　was。　　Linden　accompanied　him　as　far　as　the　front　door；　and　Owen　once　more　set　out　on　his　way　homeward　through　the　storm　that　howled　around　like　a　wild　beast　hungry　for　its　prey。



Chapter　6

It　is　not　My　Crime


Owen　and　his　family　occupied　the　top　floor　of　a　house　that　had　once　been　a　large　private　dwelling　but　which　had　been　transformed　into　a　series　of　flats。　　It　was　situated　in　Lord　Street；　almost　in　the　centre　of　the　town。

At　one　time　this　had　been　a　most　aristocratic　locality；　but　most　of　the　former　residents　had　migrated　to　the　newer　suburb　at　the　west　of　the　town。　　Notwithstanding　this　fact；　Lord　Street　was　still　a　most　respectable　neighbourhood；　the　inhabitants　generally　being　of　a　very　superior　type：　shop…walkers；　shop　assistants；　barber's　clerks；　boarding　house　keepers；　a　coal　merchant；　and　even　two　retired　jerry…builders。

There　were　four　other　flats　in　the　house　in　which　Owen　lived。　　No。　1　（the　basement）　was　occupied　by　an　estate　agent's　clerk。　　No。　2　…　on　a　level　with　the　street　…　was　the　habitat　of　the　family　of　Mr　Trafaim；　a　cadaverous…looking　gentleman　who　wore　a　top　hat；　boasted　of　his　French　descent；　and　was　a　shop…walker　at　Sweater's　Emporium。　　No。　3　was　tenanted　by　an　insurance　agent；　and　in　No。　4　dwelt　a　tallyman's　traveller。

Lord　Street　…　like　most　other　similar　neighbourhoods　…　supplied　a　striking　answer　to　those　futile　theorists　who　prate　of　the　equality　of　mankind；　for　the　inhabitants　instinctively　formed　themselves　into　groups；　the　more　superior　types　drawing　together；　separating　themselves　from　the　inferior；　and　rising　naturally　to　the　top；　while　the　others　gathered　themselves　into　distinct　classes；　grading　downwards；　or　else　isolated　themselves　altogether；　being　refused　admission　to　the　circles　they　desired　to　enter；　and　in　their　turn　refusing　to　associate　with　their　inferiors。

The　most　exclusive　set　consisted　of　the　families　of　the　coal　merchant；　the　two　retired　jerry…builders　and　Mr　Trafaim；　whose　superiority　was　demonstrated　by　the　fact　that；　to　say　nothing　of　his　French　extraction；　he　wore　…　in　addition　to　the　top　hat　aforesaid　…　a　frock　coat　and　a　pair　of　lavender　trousers　every　day。　　The　coal　merchant　and　the　jerry　builders　also　wore　top　hats；　lavender　trousers　and　frock　coats；　but　only　on　Sundays　and　other　special　occasions。　　The　estate　agent's　clerk　and　the　insurance　agent；　though　excluded　from　the　higher　circle；　belonged　to　another　select　coterie　from　which　they　excluded　in　their　turn　all　persons　of　inferior　rank；　such　as　shop　assistants　or　barbers。

The　only　individual　who　was　received　with　equal　cordiality　by　all　ranks；　was　the　tallyman's　traveller。　　But　whatever　differences　existed　amongst　them　regarding　each　other's　social　standing　they　were　unanimous　on　one　point　at　least：　they　were　indignant　at　Owen's　presumption　in　coming　to　live　in　such　a　refined　locality。

This　low　fellow；　this　common　workman；　with　his　paint…bespattered　clothing；　his　broken　boots；　and　his　generally　shabby　appearance；　was　a　disgrace　to　the　street；　and　as　for　his　wife　she　was　not　much　better；　because　although　whenever　she　came　out　she　was　always　neatly　dressed；　yet　most　of　the　neighbours　knew　perfectly　well　that　she　had　been　wearing　the　same　white　straw　hat　all　the　time　she　had　been　there。　　In　fact；　the　only　tolerable　one　of　the　family　was　the　boy；　and　they　were　forced　to　admit　that　he　was　always　very　well　dressed；　so　well　indeed　as　to　occasion　some　surprise；　until　they　found　out　that　all　the　boy's　clothes　were　home…made。　　Then　their　surprise　was　changed　into　a　somewhat　grudging　admiration　of　the　skill　displayed；　mingled　with　contempt　for　the　poverty　which　made　its　exercise　necessary。

The　indignation　of　the　neighbours　was　increased　when　it　became　known　that　Owen　and　his　wife　were　not　Christians：　then　indeed　everyone　agreed　that　the　landlord　ought　to　be　ashamed　of　himself　for　letting　the　top　flat　to　such　people。

But　although　the　hearts　of　these　disciples　of　the　meek　and　lowly　Jewish　carpenter　were　filled　with　uncharitableness；　they　were　powerless　to　do　much　harm。　　The　landlord　regarded　their　opinion　with　indifference。　　All　he　cared　about　was　the　money：　although　he　also　was　a　sincere　Christian；　he　would　not　have　hesitated　to　let　the　top　flat　to　Satan　himself；　provided　he　was　certain　of　receiving　the　rent　regularly。

The　only　one　upon　whom　the　Christians　were　able　to　inflict　any　suffering　was　the　child。　　At　first　when　he　used　to　go　out　into　the　street　to　play；　the　other　children；　acting　on　their　parents'　instructions；　refused　to　associate　with　him；　or　taunted　him　with　his　parents'　poverty。　　Occasionally　he　came　home　heartbroken　and　in　tears　because　he　had　been　excluded　from　some　game。

At　first；　sometimes　the　mothers　of　some　of　the　better…class　children　used　to　come　out　with　a　comical　assumption　of　superiority　and　dignity　and　compel　their　children　to　leave　off　playing　with　Frankie　and　some　other　poorly　dressed　children　who　used　to　play　in　that　street。　　These　females　were　usually　overdressed　and　wore　a　lot　of　jewellery。　　Most　of　them　fancied　they　were　ladies；　and　if　they　had　only　had　the　sense　to　keep　their　mouths　shut；　other　people　might　possibly　have　shared　the　same　delusion。

But　this　was　now　a　rare　occurrence；　because　the　parents　of　the　other　children　found　it　a　matter　of　considerable　difficulty　to　prevent　their　youngsters　from　associating　with　those　of　inferior　rank；　for　when　left　to　themselves　the　children　disregarded　all　such　distinctions。　Frequently　in　that　street　was　to　be　seen　the　appalling　spectacle　of　the　ten…year…old　son　of　the　refined　and　fashionable　Trafaim　dragging　along　a　cart　constructed　of　a　sugar　box　and　an　old　pair　of　perambulator　wheels　with　no　tyres；　in　which　reposed　the　plebeian　Frankie　Owen；　armed　with　a　whip；　and　the　dowdy　daughter　of　a　barber's　clerk：　while　the　nine…year…old　heir　of　the　coal　merchant　rushed　up　behind　。。。

Owen's　wife　and　little　son　were　waiting　for　him　in　the　living　room。　This　room　was　about　twelve　feet　square　and　the　ceiling　…　which　was　low　and　irregularly　shaped；　showing　in　places　the　formation　of　the　roof　…　had　been　decorated　by　Owen　with　painted　ornaments。

There　were　three　or　four　chairs；　and　an　oblong　table；　covered　with　a　clean　white　tablecloth；　set　ready　for　tea。　　In　the　recess　at　the　right　of　fireplace　…　an　ordinary　open　grate　…　were　a　number　of　shelves　filled　with　a　miscellaneous　collection　of　books；　most　of　which　had　been　bought　second…hand。

There　were　also　a　number　of　new　books；　mostly　cheap　editions　in　paper　covers。

Over　the　back　of　a　chair　at　one　side　of　the　fire；　was　hanging　an　old　suit　of　Owen's；　and　some　underclothing；　which　his　wife　had　placed　there　to　air；　knowing　that　he　would　be　wet　through　by　the　time　he　arrived　home　。。。

The　woman　was　half…sitting；　half　lying；　on　a　couch　by　the　other　side　of　the　fire。　　She　was　very　thin；　and　her　pale　face　bore　the　traces　of　much　physical　and　mental　suffering。　　She　was　sewing；　a　task　which　her　reclining　position　rendered　somewhat　difficult。　　Although　she　was　really　only　twenty…eight　years　of　age；　she　appeared　older。

The　boy；　who　was　sitting　on　the　hearthrug　playing　with　some　toys；　bore　a　strong　resemblance　to　his　mother。　　He　also；　appeared　very　fragile　and　in　his　childish　face　was　reproduced　much　of　the　delicate　prettiness　which　she　had　once　possessed。　His　feminine　appearance　was　increased　by　the　fact　that　his　yellow　hair　hung　in　long　curls　on　his　shoulders。　　The　pride　with　which　his　mother　regarded　this　long　hair　was　by　no　means　shared　by　Frankie　himself；　for　he　was　always　entreating　her　to　cut　it　off。

Presently　the　boy　stood　up　and　walking　gravely　over　to　the　window；　looked　down　into　the　street；　scanning　the　pavement　for　as　far　as　he　could　see：　he　had　been　doing　this　at　intervals　for　the　last　hour。

‘I　wonder　wherever　he's　got　to；'　he　said；　as　he　returned　to　the　fire。

‘I'm　sure　I　don't　know；'　returned　his　mother。　　‘Perhaps　he's　had　to　work　overtime。'

‘You　know；　I've　been　thinking　lately；'　observed　Frankie；　after　a　pause；　‘that　it's　a　great　mistake　for　Dad　to　go　out　working　at　all。　　I　believe　that's　the　very　reason　why　we're　so　poor。'

‘Nearly　everyone　who　works　is　more　or　less　poor；　dear；　but　if　Dad　didn't　go　out　to　work　we'd　be　even　poorer　than　we　are　now。　　We　should　have　nothing　to　eat。'

‘But　Dad　says　that　the　people　who　do　nothing　get　lots　of　everything。'

‘Yes；　and　it's　quite　true　that　most　of　the　people　who　never　do　any　work　get　lots　of　everything；　but　where　do　they　get　it　from？　　And　how　do　they　get　it？'

‘I'm　sure　i　don't　know；'　replied　Frankie；　shaking　his　head　in　a　puzzled　fashion。

‘Supposing　Dad　didn't　go　to　work；　or　that　he　had　no　work　to　go　to；　or　that　he　was　ill　and　not　able　to　do　any　work；　then　we'd　have　no　money　to　buy　anything。　　How　should　we　get　on　then？'

‘I'm　sure　I　don't　know；'　repeated　Frankie；　looking　round　the　room　in　a　thoughtful　manner；　‘The　chairs　that's　left　aren't　good　enough　to　sell；　and　we　can't　sell　the　beds；　or　your　sofa；　but　you　might　pawn　my　velvet　suit。'

‘But　even　if　all　the　things　were　good　enough　to　sell；　the　money　we'd　get　for　them　wouldn't　last　very　long；　and　what　should　we　do　then？'

‘Well；　I　suppose　we'd　have　to　go　without；　that's　all；　the　same　as　we　did　when　Dad　was　in　London　。'

‘But　how　do　the　people　who　never　do　any　work　manage　to　get　lots　of　money　then？'　added　Frankie。

‘Oh；　there's　lots　of　different　ways。　　For　instance；　you　remember　when　Dad　was　in　London；　and　we　had　no　food　in　the　house；　I　had　to　sell　the　easy　chair。'

Frankie　nodded。　　‘Yes；'　he　said；　‘I　remember　you　wrote　a　note　and　I　took　it