The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists
downstairs again. 'If we don't get these ceilings finished by dinner time, Nimrod's sure to ramp.'
'All right,' said Harlow, gruffly. 'We'll bloody soon slosh 'em over.'
'Slosh' was a very suitable word; very descriptive of the manner in which the work was done. The cornices of the staircase ceilings were enriched with plaster ornaments, the crevices of which were still filled up with old whitewash; and by the time Harlow and Easton had 'sloshed' a lot more whitewash on, they were mere formless unsightly lumps of plaster. The 'hands' who did the 'washing off' were not to blame. They had been hunted away from the work before it was half done.
While Harlow and Easton were distempering these ceilings, Philpot and the other hands were proceeding with the painting in different parts of the inside of the house, and Owen, assisted by Bert, was getting on with the work in the drawing room, striking chalk lines and measuring and setting out the different panels.
There were no 'political' arguments that day at dinner time, to the disappointment of Crass, who was still waiting for an opportunity to produce the 'Obscurer' cutting. After dinner when the others had all gone back to their work, Philpot unobtrusively returned to the kitchen and gathered up the discarded paper wrappers in which some of the men had brought their food. Spreading one of these open he shook the crumbs from the others upon it. In this way and by picking up particles of bread from the floor, he collected a little pile of crumbs and crusts. To these he added some fragments that he had left from his own dinner. He then took the parcel upstairs, and opening one of the windows threw the crumbs on to the roof of the portico. He had scarcely closed the window when two starlings fluttered down and began to eat, while Philpot stood watching with furtive satisfaction from behind the shutter.
The afternoon passed uneventfully. From one till five seemed a very long time to most of the hands, but to Owen and his mate, who were doing something in which they were able to feel some interest and pleasure, the time passed so rapidly that they both regretted the approach of evening.
'Other days,' remarked Bert, 'I always keeps on wishin' it was time to go 'ome; but to-day seems to 'ave gorn like lightnin'!'
After leaving off that night all the men kept together till
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