 3. Eastern drew the first letter from its envelope. Corporation of Mugsborough, general district at special rates, final notice. Mr. W. Easton. I have to remind you that the amount drew from you as under, in respect of the above rates, has not been paid, and to request that you will forward the same within 14 days from this date. You are hereby informed that after this notice no further call will be made, or intimation given, before legal proceedings are taken to enforce payment. By order of the council, James Lee, collector, number 2 district. District rate, 13 shillings, 11 pence. Special rate, 10 shillings, 2 pence. Total, 1 pound, 4 in 1. The second communication was dated from the office of the assistant overseer of the poor. It was also a final notice, and was worded in almost exactly the same way as the other. The principal difference being that it was by order of the overseers, instead of the council. It demanded the sum of 1 pound, 1 in 5 pence, 8 in 1. For poor rate, within 14 days, and threatened legal proceedings in default. Easton laid this down, and began to read the third letter. J. Didlam and Cole Ltd. Complete House Furnishers, Quality Street, Mugsborough. Mr. W. Easton. Sir. We have to remind you that three monthly payments of four shillings each, twelve shillings in all, became due on the first of this month, and we must request that you let us have this amount by return of post. Under the terms of your agreement, you guarantee that the money should be paid on the Saturday of every fourth week. To prevent unpleasantness, we must request you for the future to forward the full amount punctually upon that day. Yours truly, J. Didlam and Cole Ltd. He read these communications several times in silence, and finally, with a note, threw them down on the table. How much do we still owe for the oil-cloth and the furniture? He asked. I don't know exactly. It was seven pound odd, and we've had the things about six months. We paid one pound down, and three or four installments. I'll get the card if you like. No, never mind. It's how we've paid one pound twelve, so we still owe about six pound. He added this amount to the list. I think it's a great pity we ever had these things at all. He said, previously, it would have been better to have gone without until we could pay cash for them. But you would have it your way, of course. Now we'll have this bloody debt dragging on for years, and before the damn stuff is paid for it'll be worn out. The woman did not reply at once. She was bending down over the cradle, arranging the coverings which the restless movement of the child had disordered. She was crying silently, unnoticed by her husband. For the past month, in fact ever since the child was born, she had been existing without sufficient food. If Eason was unemployed, they had to stint themselves so as to avoid getting further into debt than was absolutely necessary. When he was working, they had to go short in order to pay what they owed. But of what there was, Eason himself without knowing it always had the greatest share. If he was at work, she would pack into his dinner-basket overnight, the best there was in the house. When he was out of work, she often pretended, as she gave him his meals, that she had had hers while he was out. And all the time, the baby was draining her life away, and her work was never done. She felt very weak and weary as she crouched there, crying furtively and trying not to let him see. At last she said, without looking round, You know quite well that you were just as much as favour of getting them as I was. If we hadn't got the oil-cloth, there would have been illness in the house because of the way the wind used to come up between the floorboards. Even now of a windy day, the oil-cloth moves up and down. Well, I'm sure I don't know, said Eason, as he looked alternatively at the list of debts and the three letters. I give you nearly every farthing I earn, and I never interfere about anything, because I think it's your part to attend to the house. But it seems to me you don't manage things properly. The woman suddenly burst into a passion of weeping, laying her head on the seat of the chair that was standing near the cradle. Eason started up in surprise. Wait, what's the matter? He said. Then as he looked upon the quivering form of the sobbing woman, he was ashamed. He knelt down beside her, embracing her and apologising, protesting that he had not meant to hurt her like that. I always do the best I can with the money, rude sobbed. I never spend a farthing on myself. But you don't seem to understand how hard it is. I don't care nothing about having to go without things myself, but I can't bear it when you speak to me like you do lately. You seem to blame me for everything. You used to speak to me like that before I—before—Oh, I'm so tired. I'm so tired I wish I could lie down somewhere and sleep and never wake up any more. She turned away from him, half kneeling, half sitting on the floor. Her arms folded on the seat of the chair and her head resting upon them. She was crying in a heartbroken, helpless way. I'm sorry I spoke to you like that, said Eason awkwardly. I didn't mean what I said. It's all my fault. I leave things too much to you, and it's more than you can be expected to manage. I'll help you to think things out in future. Only forgive me. I'm very sorry. I know you try your best. She suffered him to draw her to him, laying her head on his shoulder as he kissed and fondled her, protesting that he would rather be poor and hungry with her than share riches with anyone else. The child in the cradle who had been twisting and turning restlessly all this time now began to cry loudly. The mother took it from the cradle and began to hush and soothe it, walking about the room and rocking it in her arms. The child, however, continued to scream, so she sat down to nurse it. For a little while the infant refused to drink, struggling and kicking in its mother's arms. Then for a few minutes it was quiet, taking the milk in a half-hearted, fretful way. Then it began to scream and twist and struggle. The both looked at it in a helpless manner. Whatever could be the matter with it. It must be those teat. Then suddenly, as they were soothing and patting him, the child vomited all over its own and its mother's clothing in a mass of undigested food, mingled with the curdled milk by fragments of egg, little bits of bacon, bread and particles of potato. Having rid its stomach of its unnatural burden, the unfortunate baby began to cry afresh, his face very pale, his lips colourless, and his eyes redrimmed and running with water. Ethan walked round the room with him, while Ruth cleaned up the mess and got ready some fresh clothing. They both agreed that it was the coming teat that had upset the poor child's digestion. It would be a good job when they were through. This work finished. Ethan, who was still convinced in his own mind that with the aid of a little common sense and judicious management, their affairs might be arranged more satisfactorily, said, We may as well make a list of all the things we must pay and buy tomorrow. The great thing is to think out exactly what you are going to do before you spend anything. That saves you from getting things you don't really need and prevents you from forgetting things we must have. Now, first of all, the rent. Two weeks, twelve shillings. He took a fresh piece of paper and wrote this item down. What else is there that we must pay our buy tomorrow? Well, you know I promised the baker and the grocer that I would begin to pay them directly. You've got a job, and if I don't keep my word, they won't let us have anything another time, so you'd better put down two shillings each for them. I've got that, said Ethan. Two and seven for the butcher. We must pay that. I'm ashamed to pass the shop, because when I got the meat, I promised to pay them the next week, and it's nearly three weeks ago now. I've put that down. What else? A hundred of coal. One and six. Next. The instalment for the furniture and floor cloth. Twelve shillings. Next. We owe the milkman four weeks. We better pay one week on account. That's one and two. Next. The green gross are one shillin' on account. Anything else? We shall want a piece of meat of some kind. We've had none for nearly three weeks. You'd better say one and six for that. That's down. One and nine for bread. That's one, though, for day. But I've got two shillings down for bread already, said Ethan. Yes, I know, dear, but that's to go towards paying off what we owe, and what you have down for the gross are the milkman's the same. Well, go on for Christ's sake, and let's get it down, said Ethan, irritably. We can't say less than three shillings for groceries. Ethan looked carefully at his list. This time he felt sure that the item was already down, but finding he was mistaken, he said nothing and added the amount. Well, I've got that. What else? Milk. One and two. Next. Vegetables apence. Yes. Paraffin oil and firewood, sixpence. Again, the financier scrutinised the list. He was positive that it was down already. However, he could not find it, so the sixpence was added to the column of figures. Then there's your boots. You can't go about with them old things in this weather much longer. They won't stand mending again. You remember the old man said they were not worth it when you had that patch put on a few weeks ago? Yes, I was thinking about a new pair tomorrow. My socks was wet through tonight. If it's raining so morning when I'm going and I have to work all day on wet feet, I shall be laid up. At that second-hand shop down the High Street, I saw when I was out this afternoon a very good pair just your size for two shillings. Eastern did not reply at once. He did not much fancy wearing the cast-off boots of some stranger, who for all he knew might have suffered from some disease, but then remembering that his old ones were literally falling off his feet, he realised that he had practically no choice. If you're quite sure they'll fit, you'd better get them. It's better to do that than for me to catch cold and be laid up for God knows how long. So the two shillings were added to the list. Is there anything else? How much has it all come to now? Asked Ruth. Eastern added it all up. When he had finished, he remained staring at the figures in consternation for a long time without speaking. Jesus Christ! he ejaculated at last. What's it come to? Asked Ruth. Forty-four intempants. I knew we wouldn't have enough, said Ruth, wearily. Now, if you think I managed so badly, perhaps you can tell me which of these things we ought to leave out. We'd be all right if I wasn't for the debts, said Eastern, doggedly. When you're not working, we must either get in debt or starve. Eastern made no answer. What'll we do about the rates? asked Ruth. I'm sure I don't know. If I left a pawn except my black coat and vest, you might get something on that. It'll have to be paid somehow, said Ruth, or you'll be taken off to jail for a month the same as Mrs Newman's husband was last winter. Well, you better take the coat and vest and see what you can get in them tomorrow. Yes, said Ruth. And there's that brown silk dress of mine, you know, the one I wore when we was married. I might get something on that, because we won't get enough on the coat and vest. We won't, like, partner with the dress, although I never wear it. But we'll be sure to be able to get it out again, won't we? Of course, said Eastern. They remained silent for some time, Eastern staring at the list of debts and the letters. She was wondering if he still thought she managed badly and what he would do about it. She knew she had always done her best, and at last she said wistfully, trying to speak plainly, for there seemed to be a lump in her throat. And what about tomorrow? Would you like to spend the money yourself, or shall I manage as I've done before? Or will you tell me what to do? I don't know, dear. Said Eastern sheepishly. I think you'd better do as you think best. Oh, I'll manage all right, dear, you'll say, replied Ruth, who seemed to think it is sort of honour to be allowed to starve herself and wear shabby clothes. The baby who had been for some time quietly sitting upon its mother's lap, looking wonderingly at the fire, his teeth appeared to trouble him less since he got rid of the egg and bacon and potatoes. Now began to nod and doze, which Eastern, perceiving, suggested that the infant should not be allowed to go to sleep with an empty stomach, because it would probably wake up hungry in the middle of the night. He therefore woke him up as much as possible, and mashed a little of the bread and toasted cheese with a little warm milk. Then, taking the baby from Ruth, he began to try to induce it to eat. As soon, however, as the child understood his object, it began to scream at the top of its voice, closing its lips firmly and turning his head rapidly from side to side every time the spoon approached his mouth. It made such a dreadful noise that Eastern at last gave up. He began to walk about the room with it, and presently the child sobbed itself to sleep. After putting the baby into its cradle, Ruth set about preparing Eastern's breakfast and packing it into his basket. This did not take very long. There being only bread and butter, or, to be more correct, margarine. Then she poured what he was left in the teapot into a small saucepan and placed it on the top of the oven, but away from the fire. Cut two more slices of bread and spread on them all the margarine that was left. Then put them on a plate on the table, covering them with a saucer to prevent them getting hard and dry during the night. Near the plate she placed a clean cup and saucer and the milk and sugar. In the morning, Eastern would light the fire and warm up the tea in the saucepan, so as to have a cup of tea before going out. If Ruth was awake and he was not pressed for time, he generally took a cup of tea to her in bed. Nothing now remained to be done but to put some coal and wood ready in the fender, so that there would be no unnecessary delay in the morning. The baby was still sleeping, and Ruth did not like to wake him up yet, to dress him for the night. Eastern was sitting by the fire smoking, so everything being done, Ruth sat down at the table and began sewing. Presently she spoke. I wish she'd let me try to let that back room upstairs. The woman next door got her as let-on furnished to an elderly woman and her husband for two shillings a week. If we could get someone like that, it would be better than having an empty room in the house. And we'd always have them messing about down here, cooking and washing and one thing and another. Objected, Eastern. They'd be more trouble than they were worth. Well, we might try and furnish it. There's Mrs. Crass across the road has got two lodgers in one room. They pay her twelve shillings each, board and lodgings and washing. That's one pound four she has coming in regular every week. If we could do the same, we'd very soon be out of debt. What's the good of talking? You'd never be able to do the work, even if we had the furniture. Oh, there works nothing, replied Ruth. And as for the furniture, we've got plenty of spare bed clothes, and we could easily manage without a wash stand in our room for a bit. So the only thing we'd really want is a small bedstead and mattress. We could get them very cheap second hand. Well, there ought to be a chest of drawers, said Eastern doubtfully. I don't think so, replied Ruth. There's a cupboard in the room, and whoever took it would be sure to have a box. Well, if you think you can do the work of no objection, said Eastern, it'll be a nuisance having a stranger in the way all the time, but I suppose we must do something of the sort or else we'll have to give up the house and take a couple of rooms somewhere. That'll be worse than having lodgers ourselves. Let's go and have a look at the room, he added, getting up and taking the lamp from the wall. They had to go up two flights of stairs before arriving at the top landing, where there were two doors, one leading to the front room, their bedroom, and the other to the empty back room. These two doors were at right angles to each other. The wallpaper and the back room was damaged and soiled in several places. There's nearly a whole row of this paper on the top of the cupboard, said Ruth. You could easily mend all those places. We could hang up a few almanacs on the walls. Our wash stand could go there by the window, a chair just there, and the bed along that wall behind the door. It's only a small window, so I could easily manage to make a curtain out of something. I'm sure I could make the room look quite nice, without spending hardly anything. Easton reached down the roll of paper. It was the same pattern as that on the wall. The ladder was a good deal faded, of course, but it would not matter much if the patches showed a little. They returned to the kitchen. Do you think you know anyone who would take it? asked Ruth. Easton smoked thoughtfully. No, he said at length, but I would mention it to one or two of the chaps on the job. They might know of someone. And I'll get Mrs. Crass to ask her lodgers. Perhaps they might have a friend, what would like to live near them. So it was settled, and as the fire was nearly out and it was getting late, they prepared to retire for the night. The baby was still sleeping, so Easton lifted it, cradle and all, and carried it up the narrow staircase into the front bedroom. Ruth, leading the way, carrying the lamp and some clothes for the child. So that the infant might be within easy reach of its mother during the night, two chairs were arranged close to her side of the bed, and the cradle placed on them. Well, now we've forgotten the clock. Said Easton, pausing. He was half undressed and had already removed his slippers. I'll slip down and get it, said Ruth. Never mind, I'll go. Said Easton, beginning to put his slippers on again. No, you get into bed. I've not started undressing yet. I'll get it, replied Ruth, who was already on her way down. I don't know if it was worth the trouble of going down, said Ruth, when she returned with the clock. It stopped three or four times today. Well, I hope it won't stop in the night, said Easton. It would be a bit of a hard right not knowing what time it was in the morning. I suppose the next thing would be that we'd have to buy a new clock. He woke several times during the night and struck a match to see if there was yet time to get up. At half-past two the clock was still going and he again fell asleep. The next time he woke up the ticking had ceased. He wondered what time it was. It was still very dark, but that was nothing to go by because it was always dark at six now. He was wide awake. It must be nearly time to get up. It would never do to be late. He might get the sack. He got up and dressed himself. Ruth was asleep, so he crept quietly downstairs, lit the fire, and heated the tea. When it was ready he went softly upstairs again. Ruth was still sleeping, so he decided not to disturb her. Returning to the kitchen he poured out and drank a cup of tea, put on his boots, overcoat, and hat, and taking his basket went out of the house. The rain was still falling and it was very cold and dark. There was no one else in the street. Easton shivered as he walked along, wondering what time it could be. He remembered there was a clock over the front of the jeweler's shop a little way down the main road. When he arrived at this place he found that the clock, being so high up, he could not see the figures on the face distinctly, because it was still very dark. He stood staring for a few minutes, vainly trying to see what time it was, when suddenly the light of a bull's-eye lantern was flashed in his eyes. You're about very early," said a voice, the owner of which Easton could not see. The light blinded him. What time is it? said Easton. I've got to get to work at seven, and our clock stopped during the night. Where are you working? At the cave in Elmore Road, you know, near the old toll-gate. What are you doing there, and who are you working for? The policeman demanded. Easton explained. Well? said the constable. It's very strange that you should be wondering about this hour. It's only about three-quarters of an hour's walk from here to Elmore Road. You say you've got to get there at seven, and it's only quarter to four now. Where do you live? What's your name? Easton gave his name an address, and began repeating the story about the clock having stopped. What you say may be all right, or it may not. Interrupted the policeman. Not sure but that he ought to take it to the station. All I know about you is that I find you're loitering outside this shop. What have you got in that basket? It's only my breakfast, said Easton, opening the basket and displaying its contents. I'm inclined to believe what you say, said the policeman after a pause. But to make quite sure, I'll go home with you. It's on my beat, and I don't want to run you in if you're what you say you are. But I should advise you to buy a decent clock, or you'll be getting yourself into trouble. When they arrived at the house, Easton opened the door, and after making some entries in his notebook, the officer went away, much to the relief of Easton, who went upstairs, set the hands of the clock right and started it going again. He then removed his overcoat, and lay down on the bed in his clothes, covering himself with a quilt. After a while he fell asleep, and when he awoke, the clock was still ticking. The time was exactly seven o'clock. End of Chapter 3, Part 2 Chapter 4 of the Ragged Trousard Philanthropists. The Placard Frank Owen was the son of a journeyman carpenter who had died of consumption when the boy was only five years old. After that his mother earned a scanty living as a needle-woman. When he was thirteen he went to work for a master decorator, who was a man of a type that has now almost disappeared, being not merely an employer, but a craftsman of a high order. He was an old man when Frank Owen went to work for him. At one time he had had a good business in the town, and used to boast that he had always done good work, had found pleasure in doing it, and had been well paid for it. But of late years the number of his customers had dwindled considerably, and had arisen a new generation which cared nothing about craftsmanship or art, and everything for cheapness and profit. From this man and by laborious study and practice in a spare time, aided by a certain measure of natural ability, the boy acquired a knowledge of decorative painting and design, and graining and sign-writing. Frank's mother died when he was twenty-four, and a year afterwards he married the daughter of a fellow workman. Those days trade was fairly good, and although there was not much demand for the more artistic kinds of work, still the fact that he was capable of doing them, if required, made it comparatively easy for him to obtain employment. Owen and his wife were very happy. They had one child, a boy, and for some years all went well, but gradually this state of things altered. Broadly speaking the change came slowly and imperceptibly, although there were occasional sudden fluctuations. Even in summer he could not always find work, and in winter it was almost impossible to get a job of any sort. At last about twelve months before the date that this story opens, he determined to leave his wife and child at home and go to try his fortune in London. When he got employment he would send for them. It was a vain hope. He found London, if anything, worse than his native town. Wherever he went he was confronted with the legend no hands wanted. He walked the streets day after day, pawned or sold all his clothes, saved those he stood in, and stayed in London for six months, sometimes starving and only occasionally obtaining a few days or weeks' work. At the end of that time he was forced to give in. The privations he had endured, the strain on his mind and the foul atmosphere of the city combined to defeat him. Symptoms of the disease that had killed his father began to manifest themselves and yielding to the repeated entreaties of his wife he returned to his native town, the shadow of his former self. That was six months ago, and since then he had worked for Rushton and Coe. Occasionally when they had no work in hand he was stood off until something came in. Ever since his return from London no one had been gradually abandoning himself to hopelessness. Every day he felt that the disease he was suffering from was obtaining a stronger grip on him. The doctor told him to take plenty of nourishing food and prescribed costly medicines which Owen had not the money to buy. Then there was his wife. Naturally delicate she needed many things that he was unable to procure for her. And the boy, what hope was there for him? Often as Owen moodily thought of their circumstances and prospects he told himself that it would be far better if they could all three die now together. He was tired of suffering himself, tired of impotently watching the sufferings of his wife and appalled at the thought of what was at store for the child. Of this nature were his reflections as he walked homeward on the evening of the day when old Linden was dismissed. There was no reason to believe a hope that the existing state of things would be altered for a long time to come. Thousands of people like himself dragged out a wretched existence of the very verge of starvation and for the greater number of people life was one long struggle against poverty. Yet practically none of these people knew or even troubled themselves to inquire why they were in that condition. And for anyone else to try to explain to them was a ridiculous waste of time for they did not want to know. The remedy was so simple, the evil so great and so glaringly evident that the only possible explanation of its continued existence was that the majority of his fellow-workers were devoid of the power of reasoning. If these people were not mentally deficient they would have their own accord have swept this silly system away long ago. It would not have been necessary for anyone to teach them that it was wrong. Why, even those who were successful or wealthy could not be sure that they would not eventually die of want. In every workhouse might be found people who at one time occupied good positions and their downfall was not in every case their own fault. No matter how prosperous a man might be he could not be certain that his children would never want for bread. There were thousands living in misery on starvation wages whose parents had been wealthy people. As Owen strode rapidly along his mind filled with these thoughts he was almost unconscious of the fact that he was wet through to the skin. He was without an overcoat. It was pond in London and he had not yet been able to redeem it. His boots were leaky and sodden with mud and rain. He was nearly home now at the corner of the street on which he lived there was a news-agent shop and on a board outside the door was displayed a placard. Terrible domestic tragedy double murder and suicide. He went in to buy a copy of the paper. He was a frequent customer here and as he entered the shopkeeper greeted him by name. In dreadful weather he remarked as he handed Owen the paper. Things pretty bad in your line I suppose. Yes, responded Owen. There's a lot of men idle but fortunately I happen to be working inside. You're one of the lucky ones then said the other. You know there'll be a job here for some of them as soon as the weather gets a little better. All the outside of this block is going to be done up. It's a pretty big job isn't it? Yes, returned Owen. Who's going to do it? Make haste and slog it. There's a place over at Windley. Yes, I know the firm. Said Owen grimly. He had worked for them once or twice himself. The foreman was in here today. The shopkeeper went on. He said they're going to make a start Monday morning if it's fine. Well, I hope it will be. Said Owen. Because things are very quiet just now. Wishing the other good night Owen again proceeded homeward. Halfway down the street he paused for a while. He was thinking of the news he had just heard and of Jack Linden. As soon as it became generally known that this work was about to be started there was sure to be a rush for it. And it would be a case of first come first served. If he saw Jack tonight the old man might be in time to secure a job. Owen hesitated. He was wet through. It was a long way to Linden's place nearly twenty minutes walk. Still he would like to let him know that the first to apply Linden would not stand such a good chance as a younger man. Owen said to himself that if he walked very fast there was not much risk of catching cold. Standing about him wet clothes might be dangerous but so long as one kept moving it was all right. He turned back and set off in the direction of Linden's house. Although he was but a few yards from his own home he decided not to go in because his wife would be sure to try to persuade him not to go out again. He presently noticed a small dark object on the doorstep of an untenanted house. He stopped to examine it more closely and perceived that it was a small black kitten. The tiny creature came towards him and began walking about his feet looking into his face and crying piteously. He stooped down and stroked it shuddering as his hands came in contact with its emaciated body. Its fur was saturated with rain and every joint of its backbone was distinctly perceptible to the touch. As he caressed it the starving creature mewed pathetically. Owen decided to take it home to the boy and as he picked it up and put it inside his coat the little outcast began to pour. This incident served to turn his thoughts into another channel. If, as so many people pretended to believe there was an infinitely loving God how was it that this helpless creature that he had made sent them to suffer? It had never done any harm and was in no sense responsible for the fact that it existed. Was God unaware of the miseries of its creatures? If so, then he was not all knowing. Was God aware of their sufferings but unable to help them? Then he was not all powerful. Had he the power but not the will to make his creatures happy? Then he was not good. No, it was impossible to believe in the existence of an individual infinite God. In fact, no one did so believe at least of all those people who pretended for various reasons to be the disciples and followers of Christ. The antichrists who went about singing hymns making long prayers and crying Lord, Lord but never doing the things which he said who were known by their words to be unbelievers and infidels unfaithful to the master they pretended to serve their lives being passed in deliberate and systematic disregard for his teachings and commandments. It is not necessary to call in the evidence of science or to refer to the supposed inconsistencies and possibilities, contradictions and absurdities contained in the Bible in order to prove there was no truth in the Christian religion. All that was necessary was to look at the conduct of the individuals who were its votaries. End of Chapter 4 Chapter 5 of the Ragged Trousard Philanthropists The Ragged Trousard Philanthropists by Robert Tressel Chapter 5 The Clock Case Jack Linden lived in a small cottage in Windley. He had occupied this house ever since his marriage over thirty years ago. His home and garden were his hobby. He was always doing something, painting, whitewashing, papering and so forth. The result was that although the house itself was not of much account he had managed to get it in very good order and as a result it was very clean and comfortable. Another result of his industry was that seeing the improved appearance after place the landlord had on two occasions raised the rent. When Linden first took the house the rent was six shillings a week. Five years later it was raised to seven shillings and after a lapse of another five years it had been increased to eight shillings. During the thirty years of his tenancy he had paid altogether nearly six hundred pounds in rent more than double the amount of the present value of the house. Jack did not complain of this. In fact he was very well satisfied. He often said that Mr. Sweater was a very good landlord because on several occasions when being out of work he had been a few weeks behind with his rent the agent acting for the benevolent Mr. Sweater had allowed Linden to raise by installments as old Jack was in the habit of remarking many a landlord would have sold up their furniture and turned them into the street. As the reader is already aware Linden's household consisted of his wife, his two grandchildren and his daughter-in-law the widow and children of his youngest son a reservist who died while serving in the South African War. This man had been a plasterer and just before the war he was working as a housewife. They had just finished their tea when Owen knocked at their front door. The young woman went to see what it was. Is Mr. Linden in? Yes, who is it? My name is Owen. Old Jack, however, had already recognized Owen's voice and came to the door wondering what he wanted. As I was going home I heard that make haste and slog it are going to start a large job on Monday so I thought I'd run over and let you know. Are they? said Linden. I'll go and see them in the morning. But I'm afraid I won't stand much chance because a lot of their regular hands are waiting for a job but I'll go and see them all the same. Well, you know, it's a big job. All the outside of that block on the corner of Kirk Street and Lord Street they're almost sure to want a few extra hands. Yes, there's something in that. Said Linden. Anyhow, I'm much obliged here for letting me know. But coming out of the rain you must be wet through. Now I won't stay," responded Owen. I don't want to stand about any longer than I can help in these wet clothes. But I won't take you a minute to drink a cup of tea. Linden insisted and I won't ask you to stop longer than that. Owen entered. The old man closed the door and led the way into the kitchen. At one side of the fire Linden's wife, a frail-looking old lady with white hair, was seated in a large armchair knitting. Linden sat down in a similar chair on the other side. The two grandchildren, a boy and a girl about seven and eight years respectively were still seated at the table. Standing by the side of the dresser at one end of the room was a treadled sewing machine and on one end of the dresser was a pile of sewing, ladies' blouses in process of making. This was another instance of the goodness of Mr. Sweater and Law obtained the work. It was not much because she was only able to do it in her spare time but then as she often remarked every little helped. The floor was covered with linoleum. There were a number of framed pictures on the walls and on the high mantel shelf were a number of brightly polished tins and copper utensils. The room had that indescribably home-like cosy air that is found only in those houses in which the inhabitants have dwelt in time. The young woman was already pouring out a cup of tea. Old Mrs. Linden who had never seen Owen before although she had heard of him belonged to the Church of England and was intensely religious. She looked curiously at the atheist as he entered the room. He had taken off his hat and she was surprised to find that he was not repulsive to look at. Rather the contrary. But then she remembered that Satan was thoughtful. She wished that John had not asked him into the house and hoped that no evil consequences would follow. As she looked at him she was horrified to perceive a small black head with a pair of glistening green eyes peeping out of the breast of his coat and immediately afterwards the kitten catching sight of the cups and saucers on the table began to mew frantically as scramble suddenly out of its shelter inflicting a severe scratch on Owen's restraining hands as it jumped to the floor. It clambered up the tablecloth and began rushing all over the table darting madly from one plate to another seeking something to eat. The children screamed with delight. Their grandmother was filled with a feeling of superstitious alarm. Lyndon and the young woman stood staring with astonishment at the unexpected visitor. Before the kitten had time to do any damage Owen caught hold of it and despite its struggles lifted it off the table. It seemed to be starving. Poor little thing, I'll give it something exclaimed the young woman. She put some milk and bread into a saucer-ford and the kitten ate ravenously almost upsetting the saucer in its eagerness much to the amusement of the two children who stood by watching it admiringly. Their mother now handed Owen a cup of tea. Lyndon insisted on his sitting down and then began to talk about Hunter. You know I had to spend some time on them doors to make a nook on eating at all. But it wasn't the time I took or even the smoke and what made him go on like that. He knows very well the time it takes. The real reason is that he thinks I'm getting too much money. Work is done so rough nowadays that chaps like sarkens is good enough for most of it. Hunter shoved me off just because I was getting the top money and you'd see that I won't be the only one. I'm afraid you're quite right, returned Owen. Did you see Rushton when you went for your money? Yes, replied Lyndon. I hurried up as fast as I could but Hunter was there first. He passed me on his bike before I got halfway so I suppose he told his tale before I came. Anyway, when I started to speak to Mr. Rushton he wouldn't listen. He said he couldn't interfere between Mr. Hunter and the men. Ah, they're a bad lot them too, said the old woman shaking her head sagely. But it'll all come out and you'll see the Lord'll punish them. Owen did not feel very confident of that. Most of the people he knew who had prospered were very similar in character to the two wordies in question. However, he did not want to argue with this poor old woman. When Tom was called up to go to the war said the younger woman bitterly Mr. Rushton shook hands with him and promised to give him a job when he came back but now the poor Tom's gone and they know that me and the children's father they do this. Although at the mention of her dead son's name old Mrs. Linden was evidently distressed she was still mindful of the atheist's presence and hastened to rebuke her daughter-in-law. You shouldn't say we've got no one to look to Mary she said. We're not as damn who are without God and without hope in the world. The Lord is our shepherd. He caret for the widow and the fatherless. Owen was very doubtful about this also. He had seen so many badly cared for children about the streets lately and what he remembered of his own sorrowful childhood was all evidence to the contrary. An awkward silence succeeded. Owen did not wish to continue this conversation. He was afraid that he might say something that would hurt the old woman. Besides, he was anxious to get away. He began to feel cold in his wet clothes. As he put his empty cup on the table he said I must be going. They'd be thinking I'm lost at home. The kitten had finished all the bread and milk and was gravely washing its face with one of its four paws to the great admiration of the two children who were sitting on the floor beside it. It was an artful-looking kitten all black with a very large head and a very small body. It reminded Owen of a tadpole. Do you like cats? he said addressing the children. Yes, said the boy. Give it to us, will you, mister? Oh, do leave it here, mister?" exclaimed the little girl. I'll look after it. So will I, said the little boy. But haven't you wounded your own? Asked Owen. Yes, we've got a big one. Well, if you have one already and I give you this then you'd have two cats and I'd have none. That wouldn't be fair, would it? Well, you can have a lend of our cat for a little while if you give us this kitten, said the boy after a moment's thought. Why would you rather have the kitten? Because it would play. Our cat don't want to play. It's too old. Perhaps you're too rough with it. Returned Owen. No, it ain't that. It's just because it's old. You know cats is just the same as people, exclaimed the little girl wisely. When they're grown up I suppose they've got their troubles to think about. Owen wondered how long it would be before her troubles commenced. As he gazed at these two little orphans he thought of his own child. And of the rough and tawny way they would all three have to travel if they were so unfortunate as to outlive their childhood. Can we have it, mister? repeated the boy. Owen would have liked to grant the children's request, but he wanted the kitten for himself. Therefore he was relieved when their grandmother exclaimed, We don't want no more cats here. We've got one already. That's quite enough. She was not yet quite satisfied in her mind that a creature was not an incarnation of the devil. But whether it was or not she did not want it or anything else of Owen's in this house. She wished he would go and take his kitten or his familiar or whatever it was with him. No good would come of his being there. Was it not written in the word if any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ let him be anathema maranatha? She did not know exactly what anathema maranatha meant. But there could be no doubt that it was something very unpleasant. It was a terrible thing that this blasphemer who, as she had heard, did not believe there was a hell and said that a Bible was not the word of God should be here in the house sitting on one of their chairs drinking from one of their cups and talking to their children. The children stood by wistfully when Owen put the kitten under his coat and rose to go away. As Lyndon prepared to accompany him to the front door Owen, happening to notice a time-piece standing on a small table in the recess at one side of the fireplace, exclaimed, That's a very nice clock. Yes, it's all right, ain't it? said old Jack with a touch of pride. Poor Tom made that, not the clock itself, but just the case. It was the case that it attracted Owen's attention. It stood about two feet high and was made of fretwork in the form of an Indian mosque with a pointed dome and pinnacles. It was a very beautiful thing and must have cost many hours of patient labour. Yes, said the old woman in a trembling, broken voice and looking at Owen with a pathetic expression. Months and months he worked at it and no one ever guessed to what were far. And then, when my birthday came round the very first thing I saw when I woke up in the morning was a clock standing on a chair by the bed with a card. To their mother, from her loving son Tom, wishing her many happy birthdays. But he never had another birthday himself because just five months after he was sent to Africa and he'd only been there five weeks when he died. Five years ago come the fifteenth of next month. Owen inwardly regretted that he had unintentionally broached so painful a subject, tried to think of some suitable reply, but he 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 cast away 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. The Lord was very thoughtful, 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 kindness of her character asserted itself. Her better feelings were aroused, triumphing momentarily over the bigotry of her religious opinions. "'Well, you ain't got no overcoat,' she exclaimed. "'You'll be soaked going home in this rain.' Then turning to her husband she continued, "'Now, Owen, one of yours, you might lend him that. It'll be better than nothing.' But Owen would not hear of this. He thought, as he became very conscious of the clammy feeling of his saturated clothing, that he could not get much wetter than he already was. London 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. End of chapter 5 Chapter 6 Part 1 by Robert Tressel Chapter 6 Part 1 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 suburbs 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-housekeepers, a coal merchant, and even two retired Jerry-builders. There were four other flats in the house in which Owen lived. Number one, in the basement, was occupied by an estate agent's clerk. Number two, on a level with the street, was the habitat of the family of Mr. Trefame, a cadaverous-looking gentleman who wore a top hat boasted of his French descent and was a shop-walker at Sweaters Emporium. Number three was tenanted by an insurance agent, and in number four dwelt a tally-man's traveller. Lord Street, like most other similar neighbourhoods, supplied a striking answer to those futile theorists who prayed 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. Trefame, whose superiority was demonstrated by the fact that, to say nothing of his French extraction, he wore, in addition to the top hat of four said, 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 among 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-be-spattered clothing, his broken boots and his generally shabby appearance was a disgrace to the street and 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 in 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 till they found out that all the boy's clothes were homemade. Then their surprise was changed and the most grudging admiration of the skill displayed mingled with contempt for the poverty which made this 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 a 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 and too much harm, the landlord regarded her opinion with indifference. All he cared about was the money. Although he was also a sincere Christian, he would not have hesitated to let the 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 or taunted them 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 compelled 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. Unfortunately there 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 founded 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 four-year-old son of the refined and fashionable Trafame dragging along a cart constructed of a sugar-box and an old pair of perambulator wheels with no tyres, in which reposed the plebeian Frank 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 literally 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 table-cloth set ready for tea. In the recess at the right of the fireplace an ordinary open-grade were a number of shelves filled with a miscellaneous collection of books most of which had been bought secondhand. There was also a number of new books mostly cheap editions and paper covers. Over the back of a chair at one side of the fire was hanging an old stool of Owens and some under-clothing 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 only really 28 years of age she appeared older. The boy who was sitting on the heart-rug playing with some toys bore a strong resemblance to his mother. He also appeared to be 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 and 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 intriguing 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 where 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 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 did 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. 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 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 and I had to sell the easy-chair? Frankie nodded. Yes, he said, I remember you wrote a note and I took it to the shop and afterwards old Didlam came up here and bought it and then his cart came and a man took it away. And do you remember how much he gave us for it? Five shillings, replied Frankie promptly. He was well acquainted with the details of the transaction, having often heard his father and mother discuss it. And when we saw it in his shop a little while afterwards, what price was marked on it? Fifteen shillings. Well, that's one way of getting money without working. Frankie played with his toys in silence for some minutes. At last he said, What other ways? Some people who have some money already get more in this way. They find some people who have no money come and work for us. Then the people who have the money pay the workers just enough wages to keep them alive whilst they're at work. Then when the things that the working people have been making are finished the workers are sent away and as they still have no money they are soon starving. In the meantime the people who have the money take all the things that the workers have made and sell them for a great deal more money than they gave to the workers for making them. That's another way of getting lots of money and making any useful work. But it's another way to get rich without doing things such as that. It is not possible for anyone to become rich without cheating other people. Well, what about our schoolmaster then? He doesn't do any work. Don't you think it's useful and also very hard work teaching all those boys every day? I don't think I should like to have to do it. Yes, I suppose what he does is some use, said Frankie thoughtfully, and it must be rather hard to, I should think. I've noticed he looks a bit worried sometimes and sometimes he gets into a final wax when the boys don't pay proper attention. The child again went over to the window and pulling back the edge of the blind looked down the deserted rain-washed street. What about the vicar? He remarked as he returned. Although Frankie did not go to church or Sunday school the day school that he had attended was that attached to the parish church and the vicar was in the habit of looking in occasionally. Ah, he really is one of those who live without doing any necessary work and of all the people who do nothing the vicar is one of the very worst. Frankie looked up at his mother with some surprise, not because he entertained and he very high opinion of clergymen in general for having been an attentive listener to many conversations between his parents he had of course assimilated their opinions as far as his infant standing permitted but because at the school the scholars were taught to regard the gentleman in question with the most profound reverence and respect. Why, mum? he asked. For this reason, dearie you know that all the beautiful things which the people who do nothing have are made by the people who work, don't you? Yes. And you know that those who work have to eat the very worst food and wear the very worst clothes and the very worst homes. Yes, said Frankie. And sometimes they have nothing to eat at all and no clothes to wear except rags and even no homes to live in. Yes. Repeated the child. Well, the vicar goes about telling the idlers that it's quite right for them to do nothing and that God meant them to have nearly everything that is made by those who work. In fact, he tells them that God made the poor for the use of the rich. Then he goes to the workers and tells them that God meant them to work very hard and to give all the good things they make to those who do nothing and that they should be very thankful to God and to the idlers for being allowed to have even the very worst food to eat and the rags and broken boots to wear. He also tells them that they mustn't grumble or be discontented because they're poor in this world but that they must wait till they're dead and then God will reward them by letting them go to a place called heaven. Frankie laughed. And what about the idlers? He asked. The vicar says that if they believe everything he tells them and give them some of the money they make out of the workers, then God will let them into heaven also. Well, that's not fair, dues, isn't mom? said Frankie with some indignation. It wouldn't be if it were true but then you see it's not true. It can't be true. Why can't it, mom? Oh, for many reasons. To begin with, the vicar doesn't believe it himself. He only pretends to. For instance, he pretends to believe the Bible but if we read the Bible we find that Jesus said that God is our Father and that all the people in the world are his children, all brothers and sisters. But the vicar says that although Jesus said brothers and sisters, they really ought to have said masters and servants. Again, Jesus said that his disciples should not think of tomorrow or save up a lot of money for themselves but they should be unselfish and help those who are in need. Jesus said that his disciples must not think about their own future needs at all because God will provide for them if they only do as he commands but the vicar says that is all nonsense. Jesus said that if anyone tries to do his disciples harm they must never resist but forgive those who injure them and pray God to forgive them also but the vicar says this is all nonsense too. He says that the world would never be able to go on if we did as Jesus thought. The vicar teaches that the way to deal with those that injure us is to have them put in prison or if they belong to some other country to take guns and knives and murder them and burn their houses so you see the vicar doesn't really believe or do any of the things that Jesus said he only pretends. But why does he pretend and go on talking like that mum? What does he do it for? Because he wishes to live without God dear. And don't the people know he's only pretending? Some of them do. Most of the idlers know that what the vicar says is not true but they pretend to believe it and give him money for saying it because they want him to go on telling it to the workers so that they will go on working and keep quiet and be afraid to think for themselves. And what about the workers? Do they believe it? Most of them do because when there were little children like you their mothers taught them to believe without thinking whatever the vicar said and that God made them for the use of the idlers. When they went to school they were taught the same thing and now that they've grown up they really believe it and they go to work and give nearly everything they make to the idlers and have next to nothing left for themselves and their children. That's the reason why the workers' children have very bad clothes to wear and sometimes no food to eat and that's how it is that the idlers can eat. Some of them have so much food that they are not able to eat it. They just waste it or throw it away. When I'm grown up into a man said Frankie with a flushed face I'm going to be one of the workers and when we've made lots of things I shall stand up and tell the others what to do. If any of the idlers come and take our things away they'll get something they won't like. In a state of suppressed excitement and scarcely conscious of what he was doing the boy began gathering up the toys and throwing them violently one by one into the box. I'll teach him to come take our things away he exclaimed relapsing momentarily into a street style of speaking. First of all we'll all stand quietly on one side then when the idlers come in and start touching our things we'll go up to him and say here what you're doing off just put it down will you and if they don't put it down at once it'll be the worst for them I can tell you. I think that Frankie picked up the box and placed it noisily in its a customed corner of the room. I should think the workers would be jolly glad to see me coming to tell them what to do shouldn't you mum? I don't know dear you see so many people have tried to tell them but they won't listen they don't want to hear they think it's quite right that they should work very hard all their lives and quite right that most of the things they help to make should be taken away from them but as the children of the idlers and they teach their children that as soon as ever they are old enough they must be satisfied to work very hard and to have only very bad food and clothes and homes then I think the workers should be jolly ashamed of themselves mum don't you well in one sense they ought but you must remember that that's what they've always been taught themselves first their mothers and fathers told them so then their schoolteachers told them so and then when they went to church the vicar and the Sunday schoolteacher told them the same thing so you can't be surprised that they now really believe that God made them and their children to make things for the use of the people who do nothing but you think their own sense would tell them how can it be right for the people who do nothing to have the very best and most of everything that's made and the very ones who make everything to have hardly any why even I know better than that and I'm only six and a half years old but then you're different in theory you've been taught to think about it and that and I have explained it to you often yes I know replied Frankie confidently but even if you'd never taught me I'm sure I would have tumbled to it all right by myself I'm not such a juggins as you think I am so you might but you wouldn't if you'd been brought up in the same way as most of the workers they've been taught that it's very wicked to use your own judgment or to think and their children are being taught so now do you remember what you told me the other day when you came home from school about the scripture lesson about St. Thomas yes what did your teacher say St. Thomas was she said he was a bad example and she said I was worse than him because I asked too many foolish questions she always gets in a wax if I talk too much well why did you call St. Thomas a bad example because he wouldn't believe what he was told exactly well when you told Dad about it what did he say Dad told me that St. Thomas was really the only sensible man in the whole crowd of apostles that is added Frankie correcting himself if there ever was such a man at all but did Dad say that there never was such a man no he said he didn't believe there ever was but he told me just to listen to what the teacher said about such things and then to think about it in my own mind and wait till I'm grown up and then I can use my own judgment well now that's what you are told but all the other children's mothers and fathers tell them to believe without thinking whatever the teacher says so it would be no wonder if those children are not able to think for themselves when they're grown up will it don't you think it'll be any use then for me to tell them what to do to the idlers asked Frankie dejectedly Hark said his mother holding up her finger Dad cried Frankie rushing to the door and flinging it open he ran along the passage and opened the staircase door before Owen reached the top of the last flight of stairs why ever do you come up at such a rate reproachfully exclaimed Owen's wife as he came into the room exhausted from the climb upstairs and sank panting into the nearest chair I always forget he replied when he had in some degree recovered as he laid back in the chair his face haggard and of a ghastly whiteness and with the water dripping from the saturated clothing Owen presented a terrible appearance Frankie noticed with childish terror the extreme alarm with which his mother looked at his father you're always doing it he said with a whimper how many more times will mother have to tell you about it before you take any notice it's all right old chap said Owen drawing the child nearer to him and kissing the curly head listen and see if you can guess what it got for you under my coat in the silence the kitten was distinctly audible a kitten cried the boy taking it out of its hiding place all black and I believe it's half Persian just the very thing I wanted end of chapter 6 part 1 chapter 6 part 2 of the ragged trousers philanthropists this LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Tye Hines the ragged trousers philanthropists by Robert Tressel chapter 6 part 2 while Frankie amused himself playing with the kitten which had been provided with another saucer of bread and milk Owen went into the bedroom to put on the dry clothes and then those that he had taken off being placed with his boots near the fire to dry he explained as they were taking Tye the reason of his late homecoming I'm afraid he won't find it very easy to get another job he remarked referring to Lyndon even in the summer nobody would be inclined to take him on he's too old it's a dreadful prospect for the two children answered his wife yes replied Owen bitterly it's the children who suffer most as for Lyndon and his wife although of course one can't help feeling sorry for them at the same time there's no getting away from the fact that they deserve to suffer all their lives they've been working like brutes and living in poverty although they have done more than their fair share of work they have never enjoyed anything like a fair share of the things they have helped to produce and yet all their lives they have supported and defended this system that robbed them and they've resisted and ridiculed every proposal to alter it it's wrong to feel sorry for such people they deserve to suffer after Tye as he watched his wife clearing away the Tye things and rearranging the drying clothing by the fire Owen for the first time noticed that she looked unusually ill you don't look so well tonight Nora he said crossing over to her and putting his arm around her I don't feel so well she replied resting her head wearily against his shoulder I've been very bad all day and I had to lie down nearly all the afternoon I don't know how I should have managed to get the tea ready if it had not been for Frankie I set the table for you didn't I mum said Frankie with pride and I tidied up the room as well Yes darling you helped me a lot she answered and Frankie went over to her and kissed her hand well you'd better go to bed at once said Owen I can both thank you to bed presently and do whatever else is necessary but there are so many things to attend to I want to see that your clothes are properly dry and I put something ready for you to take in the morning before you go out and then there's your breakfast to pack up I can manage all that I don't want to give way to it like this said the woman because I know you must be tired yourself but I really do feel quite done up now oh I'm all right replied Owen who was really so fatigued that he was scarcely able to stand I'll go and draw the blinds down and light the other lamps so say goodnight to Frankie and come up at once I won't say goodnight properly now mum replied the boy because dad can carry me to your room before he puts me to bed a little later as Owen was undressing frankly the latter remarked as he looked affectionately at the kitten which was sitting on the heartthrug every child's every movement under the impression that it was part of some game what name do you think we ought to call it dad you may give him any name you like replied Owen absently I know a dog that lives down the road said the boy his name is Major how would that do or we might call him Sergeant the kitten observing that he was the subject of our conversation purred loudly and winked as if to intimate that he did not care what rank was conferred upon him so long as the commissariat department was properly attended to I don't know though continued Frankie thoughtfully they're all right names for dogs but I think they're too big for a kitten don't you dad yes perhaps they are said Owen most cats are called Tom or Kitty but I don't want a common name for them well can't you call him after someone you know I know I'll call him after that little girl that comes to our school a fine name Maude that'll be a good one won't it dad yes said Owen I say dad said Frankie suddenly realising the awful facts that he was being put to bed you're forgetting all about my story and you promise that you'd have a game of trains with me tonight I hadn't forgotten but I was hoping that you had because I'm very tired and it's very late long past your usual bedtime you know you can take the kitten to bed with you tonight and I'll tell you two stories tomorrow because it's Saturday all right then said the boy contentedly and I'll get the railway station built and I'll have the lines chalked on the floor and the signals put up before you come home so that there'll be no time wasted and I'll put one chair at one end of the room and another chair at the other end and tie some string across for telegraph wires that'll be a very good idea won't it dad and Owen agreed but of course a common meet you just the same as other Saturdays because I'm going to buy a heap at worth of milk for the kitten out of my penny after the child was in bed Owen sat alone by the table in the drafty sitting room thinking although there was a bright fire the room was very cold being so close to the roof the wind roared loudly round the gables shaking the house in a way that threatened every moment to hurl it to the ground the lamp on the table had a green glass reservoir which was half full of oil Owen watched this with unconscious fascination every time a gust of wind struck the house the oil in the lamp was agitated and rippled against the glass like the waves of a miniature sea staring abstractly at the lamp he thought of the future a few years ago the future had seemed a region of wonderful and mysterious possibilities of good but tonight the thought brought no such illusions for he knew that the story of the future was to be much the same as the story of the past the story of the past would continue to repeat itself for a few years longer he would continue to work and they would all three continue to do without most of the necessaries of life when there was no work they would starve for himself he did not much care because he knew that at the best or worst it would be only a very few years even if he were to have proper food and clothing and be able to take reasonable care of himself he could not live much longer but when that time came what was to become of them there would be some hope for the boy if he were more robust and if his character were less gentle and more selfish under the present system it was impossible for anyone to succeed in life without injuring another person and treating them and making use of them as one would not like to be treated and made use of oneself in order to succeed in the world it was necessary to be brutal selfish and unfeeling to take others aside and to take advantage of their misfortunes to undersell and crush out one's competitors by fair means or foul to consider one's own interests first in every case absolutely regardless of the well-being of others that was the ideal character Owen knew that Frankie's character did not come up to this lofty ideal then there was Nora how would she fare Owen stood up and began walking about the room in a kind of terror presently he returned to the fire and began rearranging the clothes that were drying he found that the boots having been placed too near the fire had dried too quickly and consequently the soul of one of them had begun to split away from the upper he remedied this as well as he was able and then turned the wetter parts of the clothing to the fire whilst doing this he noticed the newspaper which he had forgotten in one coat pocket he drew it out with an exclamation of pleasure here was something to distract his thoughts if not instructive or comforting it would at any rate be interesting and even amusing to read the reports of the self-satisfied futile talk of the profound statesmen who with comical gravity presided over the working of the great system which their combined wisdom pronounced to be the best that could possibly be devised but tonight Owen was not to read of those things for as soon as he opened the paper by the startling headline of one of the principal collumes terrible domestic tragedy wife and two children killed suicide of the murderer it was one of the ordinary poverty crimes the man had been without employment for many weeks and they had been living by pawning or selling their furniture and other possessions but even this resource must have failed at last and when one day the neighbours noticed that the blinds remained down in silence about the house no one coming out or going in suspicions that something was wrong were quickly aroused when the police entered the house they found in one of the upper rooms the bodies of the woman and the two children with her trots severed laid out side by side upon the bed which was saturated with her blood there was no bedstead and no furniture in the room except the straw mattress and the ragged clothes and blankets the man's body was found in the kitchen lying without stretched arms face downward on the floor surrounded by the blood that had poured from the wound in his throat which had evidently been inflicted by the razor that was grasped in his right hand no particle of food was found in the house and on a nail in the wall in the kitchen was hung a piece of blood smeared paper on which was written in pencil this is not my crime but societies the report went on to explain that the deed must have been perpetrated during a fit of temporary insanity brought on by the sufferings the man had endured insanity muttered Owen as he read the glib theory insanity it seems to me that he would have been insane if he had not killed them surely it was wiser and better and kinder to send them all to sleep than to let them continue to suffer at the same time he thought it very strange that the man should have chosen that way to do it so many other cleaner, easier and more painless ways of accomplishing the same object he wondered why it was that most of these killings were done in more or less the same crude, cruel, messy way no he would set about it in a different fashion he would get some charcoal then he would paste up strips of paper over the jointings of the door and windows of the room and close the register of the grate then he would kindle the charcoal on a tray or something in the middle of the room and then they would all three just lie down together and sleep and that would be the end of everything there would be no pain no blood and no mess or one could take poison of course there was a certain amount of difficulty in procuring it but it would not be impossible to find some pretext for buying some lard in them one could buy several small quantities at different shops until one had sufficient then he remembered that he had read somewhere that Vermillion one of the colours he frequently had used in his work was one of the most deadly poisons that there was some other stuff that photographers used which was very easy to procure of course one would have to be very careful about poisons so it was not a select one that would cause a lot of pain it would be necessary to find out exactly how the stuff acted before using it it would not be very difficult to do so then he remembered that among his books was one that probably contained some information about this subject he went over to the bookshelf and presently found the volume it was called the Cyclopedia of Practical Medicine rather an old book a little out of date perhaps but still it might contain the information he wanted he opened it he turned to the table of contents many different subjects were mentioned there and presently he found the one he sought Poisons chemically, physiologically and pathologically considered corrosive poisons, narcotic poisons slow poisons consecutive poisons accumulative poisons he turned to the chapter indicated and reading it he was astonished to find what a number of poisons there were within easy reach of whoever wished to make use of them poisons that could be relied upon to do their work certainly, quickly and without pain why it was not even necessary to buy them one could gather them from the the hedges by the side of the road and in the fields the more he thought of it the stranger it seemed that such a clumsy method as a razor should be so popular why almost any other way would be better than easier than that strangulation or even hanging though the latter method could scarcely be adopted in that house because there were no beams or rafters or anything from which it would be possible to suspend a cord still he could drive some large nails or hooks into one of the walls for that matter there were already some clothes hooks on some of the doors he began to think that this would be an even more excellent way than poison or charcoal he could easily pretend to Frankie that he was going to show him some new kind of play he could arrange the cord of the hook on one of the doors and then under pretence of play it would be done the boy would offer no resistance and in a few minutes it would be all over he threw down the book and pressed his hands over his ears he fancied he could hear the boy's hands and feet beating against the panels of the door as he struggled in his death agony then as his arms fell nervously by his side again he thought that he heard Frankie's voice calling dad, dad Owen hastily opened the door are you calling Frankie yes I've been calling you quite a long time what do you want I want you to come here I want to tell you something earlier I thought you were asleep a long time ago said Owen as he came into the room that's just what I want to speak to you about the kitten's gone to sleep all right but I can't go I've tried all different ways counting and all but it's no use so I thought I'd ask if you have mine coming in and staying with me and let me hold your hand for a little while and then perhaps I could go the boy twined his arms round Owen's neck and hugged him very tightly oh dad he said I love you so much I could squeeze you to death I'm afraid you're well if you squeeze me so tightly as that the boy laughed softly as he relaxed his hold that would be a funny way of showing you how much I love you wouldn't it dad squeezing you to death yes I suppose it would replied Owen huskily as he took the bed-clothes round the child's shoulders but don't talk anymore dear just hold my hand and try to sleep all right said Frankie lying there very quietly holding his father's hand and occasionally kissing it the child presently fell asleep then Owen got up very gently having taken the kitten out of the bed again and arranged the bed-clothes he softly kissed the boy's forehead and returned to the other room looking about for a suitable place for the kitten to sleep in he noticed Frankie's toy-box sitting empty the toys out onto the floor in a corner of the room he made a bed in the box with some rags and placed it on its side on the hearth-rog facing the fire and with some difficulty persuaded the kitten to lie in it then having placed the chairs on which his clothes were drying at a safe distance from the fire he went into the bedroom Nora was still awake are you feeling any better dear he said yes I'm ever so much better since I've been in bed but I can't help worrying about your clothes I'm afraid I'll never be dry enough for you to put on first thing in the morning couldn't you stay at home till after breakfast just for once no I mustn't do that if I did Hunter would probably tell me to stay away altogether I believe he would be glad of an excuse to get rid of another full-price man just now but if it's raining like it is in the morning you'll be wet through before you get there there's no good worrying about that dear besides I can wear this old coat that I have now over the other and if you wrap your old shoes in some paper and take them with you you can take off your wet boots as soon as you get to the place yes all right responded on besides he added reassuringly even if I do get a little wet we always have a fire there you know well I hope the weather will be a little better than this in the morning said Nora isn't it a dreadful night I keep feeling afraid that the house is going to blow down long after Nora was asleep Owen lay listening to the howling of the wind and the noise of the rain as it poured heavily on the roof End of Chapter 6 Part 2 Chapter 7 of the ragged Trousard philanthropists this LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Tyge Hines the ragged Trousard philanthropists by Robert Tressel Chapter 7 The Exterminating Machines on Saturday shouted Philpot just after 7 o'clock one Monday morning as they were getting ready to commence the work it was still dark outside but the scullery was dimly illuminated by the flickering light of two candles which Crass had lighted and stuck on the shelf over the fireplace in order to enable him to see to serve out the different pots of paints and brushes to the men yes it used to be a long week, don't it remarked Harlow as he hung his overcoat on an ale and proceeded to put on his apron and blouse I've had bloody near enough of it already I wished at Christ it was breakfast time growled them more easily satisfied Easton extraordinary as it may appear none of them took any pride in their work they did not love it they had no conception of that lofty ideal of work for work's sake which is so popular with the people who do nothing on the contrary when the work has arrived in the morning they wished it was breakfast time assumed work after breakfast they wished it was dinner time after dinner they wished it was one o'clock on Saturday so they went on day after day, year after year wishing their time was over and without realizing it really wishing that they were dead how extraordinary this must appear to those idealists who believe in work for work's sake but who themselves do nothing but devour or use and enjoy or waste the things that are produced by the labour of those others who are not themselves permitted to enjoy a fair share of the good things they help to create Crest poured several lots of colour into several pots Paolo, he said you and Salkins when he comes can go up and do the top bedrooms out with this colour you'll find a couple of candles up there it's only going to have one coat so see do you make a cover all right and just look after Salkins a bit so he doesn't make a bloody mess of it you do the doors and windows doors and skirtings that's a bit of all right you must say said Paolo addressing the company generally we got to teach a bugger like him so as he can do his over job presently by working under price well I can't help it Grilled crass you know how it is under sends a mirror to do painting and I've got to pull him on it there ain't nothing else for him to do further discussion on the subject than an hour late nah, you've come then sneered crass thought perhaps you'd gone for holiday Salkins muttered something about oversleeping himself and having hastily put on his apron he went upstairs with Paolo now let me say said Crass addressing Philpot you and Newman I'd better go and make a start on the second floor this is the colour and here's a couple of candles yeah better not both go into one room or I'll growl about it you take one of the front and let Newman take one of the back rooms take a bit of stopping with you they're going to have two coats but you better put the holes as well as you can this time only two coats said Philpot then rooms will never look nothing with two coats a light colour like this it's only going to get two anyway returned Crass testily under said so so you'll have to do the best you can with them for a middle and sudden two Crass did not think it necessary to mention that according to the copy of the specification of the work which he had in his pocket the rooms in question were supposed to have four coats Crass now turned to Owen there's that drawer in room he said I don't know what's going to be done with it yet I don't think they decided about it whatever's to be done with it would be an extra because all that's said about it in the contract is to face it up with putty white so you and Easton had better get on with it Slime was busy softening some putty by rubbing and squeezing it between his hands I suppose I better finish the room I started on on Saturday he asked all right replied Crass have you got enough colour yes said Slime as he passed through the kitchen on the way to his work Slime accosted Bert the boy who was engaged in lighting with some pieces of wood to boil water to make tea for breakfast at eight o'clock there's a bloater I once cooked he said all right replied Bert put it over there in the dresser along with fillpots on mine Slime took the bloater from his food basket but as he was about to place it in the place indicated he observed that his was a rather larger one than either of the other two this was an important matter after they were cooked it would not be easy to say which was which he might possibly be given one of the smaller ones instead of his own he took out his pocket knife and cut off the tail of the large bloater here it is then he said to Bert I'll cut the tail off mine so as you'll know which it is it was now about twenty minutes past seven and all the other men having been started at work Crass washed his hands under the tap then he went into the kitchen and having rigged up a seat by taking two of the drawers out of the dresser and placing them on the floor about six feet apart and laying a plank across he sat down in front of the fire which is now burning brightly under the pail and, lighting his pipe began to smoke the boy went into the scullery and began washing up the cups and jars for the men to drink out of Bert was a lean, undersized boy about fifteen years of age and about four feet nine inches in height he had light brown hair and hazel grey eyes and his clothes were of many colours being tickly and crusted with paint the result of the unskillful manner in which he did his work for he had only been at the trade about a year some of the men had nicknamed him The Walking Paint Shop a title which Bert accepted good-humoredly this boy was an orphan his father had been a railway porter who had worked very laboriously for twelve or fourteen hours every day for many years with the usual result of the formation of perpetual poverty Bert, who was their only child and not very robust had early shown a talent for drawing so when his father died a little over a year ago his mother readily ascended when the boy said that he wished to become a decorator it was a nice little trade and she thought that a really good painter such as she was sure he would become was at least always able to earn a good living resolving to give the boy the best possible chance she decided if possible to replace him at Rushton's that being one of the leading firms in the town at first Mr. Rushton demanded ten pounds as a premium the boy to be bound for five years no wages for the first two shillings a week for the second and a rise of one shilling every year for the remainder of the term afterwards as a special favour a matter of charity in fact as she was a very poor woman he agreed to accept five pounds this sum represented a thrifty savings of years but the poor woman parted with it willingly in order that the boy should become a skilled workman so Bert was apprenticed bound for five years to Rushton and Coe for the first few months his life had been spent in the paint shop at the yard a place that was something between a cellar and a stable there surrounded by the poisonous pigments and materials of the trade artisan worked generally alone cleaning the dirty paint pots brought in by the workmen from finished jobs outside and occasionally mixing paint according to the instructions of Mr. Hunter or one of the sub-four men sometimes he was sent out to carry materials to the places where the men were working heavy loads of paint or white lead sometimes pales of whitewash that his slender arms had been too feeble to carry more than a few yards at a time often his fragile childish figure was seen struggling manfully along bending beneath the weight of a pair of steps or a heavy plank he could manage a good many parcels at once some in each hand and some tied together with string and slung over his shoulders occasionally however there were more than he could carry then they were put into a hand cart which he pushed or dragged out to him to the distant jobs that first winter the boys days were chiefly spent in the damp evil smelling stone flagged paint shop without even a fire to warm the clammy atmosphere but in all this he had seen no hardship with the unconsciousness of boyhood he worked hard and cheerfully as time went on the goal of his childish ambition was reached he was sent out to work with the men and he carried the same spirit with him always doing his best to oblige those with whom he was working he tried hard to learn and to be a good boy and he succeeded fairly well he soon became a favourite with Owen for whom he conceived a great respect and affection for he observed that whenever there was any special work of any kind to be done it was Owen who did it on such occasions Bert in his artful boyish way would scheme to be sent to assist Owen and the latter whenever possible used to ask that the boy might be allowed Bert's regard for Owen was equaled in intensity by his dislike of Crass who was in the habit of jeering at the boy's aspirations there would be plenty of time for you to think about doing fancy work after you have learned to do plain painting he would say this morning when he had finished washing the cups and mugs Bert returned with him to the kitchen now let's say said Crass thoughtfully if what did he in the pale I suppose yes and now you want the job don't you yes replied the boy well get a bucket of water and that old brush and swab and go and wash off the old white wash and colouring off the pantry ceiling and walls all right said Bert when he got as far as the door leading to the scullery he looked round and said I've got to get them three blotters cooked by breakfast time never mind about that said Crass I'll do them Bert got the pale in the brush drew some water from the tap got a pair of steps and a short plank one end of which he rested on the bottom shelf of the pantry and the other on the steps and proceeded to carry out Crass's instructions it was very cold and damp and miserable in the pantry and the candle only made it seem more so Bert shivered he would have liked to put on his jacket but that was out of the question at a job like this he lifted the bucket of water onto one of the shelves and climbing up onto the plank took the brush from the water and soaked about a square yard of ceiling then he began to scrub it with the brush he was not yet very skillful and as he scrubbed the water ran down the stock of the brush over his hand and down his uplifted arm wetting the turned up sleeves of his shirt when he had scrubbed it sufficiently he rubbed it off as well as he could with the brush and then to finish it he thrust his hand into the pail of water and taking out the swab rung the water out of it and wiped the part of the ceiling that he had washed then he dropped it back into the pail and shook his numbed fingers to restore the circulation then he peeped into the kitchen where Crass was still seated by the fire smoking and tossing one of the blowters at the end of a pointed stick Bert wished he would go upstairs or anywhere so that he himself might go and have a warm at the fire he might just as well have let me do them blowters he muttered to himself regarding Crass malignantly through the crack of the door it's a fine job to give anybody a calm mornin' like this he shifted the pail of water a little further along the shelf and went on with his work a little later Crass still sitting by the fire heard footsteps approaching along the passage he started up guiltily and thrusting the hand holding his pipe into his apron pocket retreated hastily into the scullery he thought it might be Hunter who was in the habit of turning up at all sorts of unlikely times but it was only Easton I've got a bit of bacon I want a young one to toast for me he said as Crass came back you can do it yourself if you like replied Crass affably lookin' at his watch it's about ten to eight Easton had been working for Rushton and Cole for a fortnight and had been wise enough to stand Crass at drink on several occasions he was consequently in that gentleman's good books for the time being how are you gettin' on in there? Crass asked alluding to the work Easton and Owen were doing in the drawing room you ain't fell out with your mate yet I suppose no you ain't got much to say this mornin' his cough is pretty bad I can generally manage to get on all right with anybody you know Easton at it so can I as a rule but I get a bit sick listin' to that bloody fool according to him everything's wrong one day it's religion, another it's politics and then next it's something else yes it is a bit thick too much of it agreed Easton but I don't take no notice of the bloody fool that's the best way of course we know things as a bit bad just now but if the likes of him could have his way they'd make him a bloody sight worse that's just what I say replied Easton I've got a pill ready for him though next time he starts yappin' Crass continued as he drew a small piece of printed paper from his waistcoat pocket we'll just read that it's out of the obscure Easton took the newspaper cutting and read it very good he remarked as he handed it back I think that'll shut him up did you notice the other day when we was talking about poverty and men being out of work and we dodged out of answering what he said about machinery being the cause of it he never answered me started talking about something else yes I remember he never answered it said Easton who had really no recollection of the incident at all I mean to tackle him about with this breakfast time I don't see why he should be allowed to get out of it like that there was a bloke down at the cricketers the other night talking about the same thing a chap that takes an interest in politics and the like and he said the very same as me where the number of men that's been thrown out of work by all this air new fangled machinery is something chronic of course it is agreed Easton, everyone knows it you ought to give us a look in at the cricketers some night there's a lot of decent chaps comes there yes I think I will most of you usually use asked Crass after a pause Easton laughed to tell you the truth I've not used anywhere lately I've been having too many holidays that do make a bit of a difference don't it said Crass would you be all right here till this job's done just watch yourself a bit and don't get coming in late in the mornings all Nimrod's dead nuts on that I'll see to that all right replied Easton knows in time when there is work to do it's bad enough when you can't get it you know Crass went on confidentially between you and me in the gatepost as the saying is I don't think Mr. Bloody Owen will be here much longer Nimrod hates the sight of him Easton had it in his mind to say that Nimrod seemed to hate the sight of all of them but he made no remark and Crass continued he's heard all about the way he goes on about politics and religion and one thing and another and about the firm scamping the work you know that sort of talk don't do does it of course not Owen don't want to get rid of him long ago but it wasn't him that took him on in the first place it was rush to himself that gave him a start it seems Owen took a lot of samples of his work and showed him to the bloke is them the things that's hanging up in the shop window yes said Crass contemptuously plain work of course he does a bit of grain and then writing out or of fashion when there's any to do but that ain't often but on plain work why Salkins is as good as him for most of it any day yes I suppose he is feeling rather ashamed of himself for the part he was taking in this conversation although he had for the moment forgotten the existence of Burt Crass had instinctively lowered his voice but the boy who had left off seemed to warm his hands by putting them into his trousers pockets managed by listening attentively to hear every word you know there's a lot of people who wouldn't give the firm no more work if they know about it replied Crass it was fancy sending a bugger like that to work on a lady or gentleman's house a bloody asiist yes it is a bit off when you look at her like that you know my missus for Owen wouldn't have a fella like that in our place she found out he was a free tinker or something and she cleared about bloody Quaker can tell ya oh by the way Sid Easton glad of an opportunity to change the subject you wouldn't have to know if anyone is once a room do ya we've got one more than we want so the wife taught that we might as well let it Crass taught for a moment can't say as I do he answered doubtfully Slime was talking last week about leaving the place he's lodging at but I don't know whether he's got another place to go to you might ask him I don't know of anyone else I'll speak to him replied Easton most of the time he must be nearly on it so it is just on aid exclaimed Crass and drawing his whistle he blew a shrill blast upon it to appraise the others of the fact has anyone seen old Jack Glendon since he got the push inquired Harlow during breakfast are you seeing him Saturday said Slime is he doing anything I don't know I didn't have time to speak to him no he ain't got nothing replied Philpott are you seeing him Saturday night and he told me he's been walking about ever since Philpott did not add that he had lent Linden a shilling which he never expected to see again he won't be able to get a job again in a hurry remarked Easton he's too old you know after all you can't blame misery for sacking him said Crass after a pause he was too slow for a funeral I wonder what you'll be able to do when you're as old as he is said Owen perhaps I won't want to do nothing replied Crass with a feeble laugh I'm going to live on me means I should say the best thing old Jack could do would be to go into the union said Harlow yeah I reckon that's what will be the end of it said Easton in a matter of fact tone that's a grand finish isn't it observed Owen after working hard on one's life to be treated like a criminal at the end I don't know what you call being treated like criminals exclaimed Crass I reckon there's a bloody fine time of it and we've got to find the money oh for God's sake don't start no more arguments cried Harlow addressing Owen we had enough of that last week you can't expect the boss to employ a man when he's too old to work of course not said Crass Philpott said nothing I don't see no sense in Owen's grumbling Crass proceeded these things can't be altered you can't expect there can be plenty of work for everyone with all this here labour saving machinery what's been invented of course said Harlow the people that used to be employed on the work that's now done by machinery has to find something else to do some of them goes to our trade for instance the result is there's too many at it and there ain't enough work to keep them all going yes said Crass eagerly that's just what I say machinery is the real cause of the poverty that's what I said the other day machinery is undoubtedly the cause of unemployment replied Owen but it's not the cause of poverty that's another matter altogether the others laughed derisively well it seems to me the same thing said Harlow and nearly everyone agreed it doesn't seem to me to amount to the same thing replied Owen in my opinion we are all in a state of poverty even when we have employment the condition we are reduced to when we're out of work is more properly described as destitution poverty continued Owen after a short silence consisting a shortage of the necessaries of life when those things are so scarce are so dear that people are unable to obtain sufficient of them to satisfy all their needs those people are in a condition of poverty if you think that the machinery which makes it possible to produce all the necessaries of life and abundance is the cause of the shortage it seems to me that there must be something the matter with your minds ah of course we're all bloody fools except you snared Crass when they were serving out a sense they gave you such an elevala there wasn't none left for nobody else if there wasn't something wrong with your minds continued Owen you'd be able to see that we might have plenty of work and yet be in a state of destitution the miserable wretches who toil sixteen or eighteen hours a day father, mother, even the little children making match boxes or shorts or blouses have plenty of work but I for one don't envy them perhaps you think that if there were no machinery and we all had to work thirteen or fourteen hours a day in order to obtain a better living we should not be in a condition of poverty talking about there being something the matter with your minds is Owen odd you wouldn't talk one day about tariff reform as a remedy for unemployment and then the next day admit that machinery is the cause of it tariff reform won't do away with the machinery will it tariff reform is a remedy for bad trade returned Crass in that case tariff reform is a remedy for a disease that does not exist if you'd only take the trouble to investigate for yourself you would find out that trade was never so good as it is at present the output, the quantity of commodities of every kind produced in and exported from this country is greater than it has ever been before the fortunes are massed in business are larger than ever before but at the same time, Owen, as you have just admitted to the continued introduction and extended use of wages saving machinery the number of human beings being employed is steadily decreasing I have here, continued Owen taking out his pocketbook some figures which are copied from the Daily Mail yearbook for 1907 page 33 it's a very noticeable fact that although the number of factories and their value have vastly decreased in the United Kingdom there is an absolute decrease in the number of men and women employed in these factories between 1895 and 1901 this is doubtless due to the displacement of hard labour with machinery will tariff reform deal with that? have the good kind capitalists going to abandon the use of wages saving machinery if we tax all foreign made goods does what you call free trade help us here or do you think that abolishing the house of lords or disestablishing the church will enable the workers who are displaced to obtain employment since it is true as you admit that machinery is the principal cause of unemployment what are you going to do about it? watch your remedy no one answered because none of them knew of any remedy and Crass began to feel sorry that he had reintroduced the subject at all in the near future continued on it is probable that horses will be almost entirely superseded by motor-cars and electric trams as the services of horses will be no longer required although a few of those animals will be caused to die out they will no longer be bred to the same extent as formerly we can't blame the horses for allowing themselves to be exterminated they have not sufficient intelligence to understand what's being done therefore they will submit timely to the extinction of the greater number of their kind as you've seen a great deal of work which was formerly done by human beings is now being done by machinery this machinery belongs to a few people it has worked for the benefit of those few just the same as where the human beings are displaced these few have no longer any need of the services of so many human workers so they are proposed to exterminate them the unnecessary human beings are to be allowed to starve to death and they are also to be taught that it is wrong to marry and breed children because the sacred few do not require so many people to work for them as before yeah and you'll never be able to prevent it mate shouted crass why can't we? because it can't be done said crass fiercely it's impossible you're always saying that everything's all wrong complained Harlow but why the hell don't you show us how they're going to be put right it doesn't seem to me as if you really wish to know I believe that even if we prove that it could be done most of you will be sorry and will do all your could to prevent it you don't know yourself, sneered crass according to him tariff reform ain't no bloody good free trade ain't no bloody good and everybody else is wrong if you want to be done, he's flummoxed crass did not feel very satisfied with the result of this machinery argument but he consoled himself with a reflection that he would be able to flatten out his opponent on another subject the cutting from the obscure which he had in his pocket would take a bit of answering when you have a thing in print in black and white, why there it is you can't get away from it if it wasn't right, a paper like that would never have printed it in this past date he resolved to defer this triumph till another occasion it was too good a thing to be disposed of in a hurry End of chapter 7