The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists
whistle he blew a shrill blast upon it to apprise the others of the fact.
'Has anyone seen old Jack Linden since 'e got the push?' enquired Harlow, during breakfast.
'I seen 'im Saturday,' said Slyme.
'Is 'e doin' anything?'
'I don't know: I didn't 'ave time to speak to 'im.'
'No, 'e aint got nothing,' remarked Philpot. 'I seen 'im Saturday night, an' 'e told me 'e's been walkin' about ever since.'
Philpot did not add that he had 'lent' Linden a shilling, which he never expected to see again.
''E won't be able to get a job again in a 'urry,' remarked Easton, ''e's too old.'
'You know, after all, you can't blame Misery for sackin' 'im,' said Crass after a pause. ''E was too slow for a funeral.'
'I wonder how much you'll be able to do when you're as old as he is?' said Owen.
'Praps I won't want to do nothing,' replied Crass, with a feeble laugh. 'I'm goin' to live on me means.'
'I should say the best thing old Jack could do would be to go in the Union,' said Harlow.
'Yes: I reckon that's what'll be the end of it,' said Easton, in a matter-of-fact tone.
'It's a grand finish, isn't it?' observed Owen. 'After working hard all one's life to be treated like a criminal at the end.'
'I don't know what you call bein' treated like criminals,' exclaimed Crass; 'I reckon they 'as a bloody fine time of it, an' we've got to find the money.'
'Oh, for Gord's sake don't start no more arguments,' cried Harlow, addressing Owen. 'We 'ad enough of that last week. You can't expect a boss to employ a man when 'e's too old to work.'
'Of course not,' said Crass.
Old Joe Philpot said—nothing.
'I don't see no sense in always grumblin',' Crass proceeded; 'these things can't be altered. You can't expect there can be plenty of work for everyone with all this 'ere labour savin' machinery what's been invented.
'Of course,' said Harlow, 'the people what used to be employed on the work what's now done by machinery, has to find something else to do. Some of 'em goes to our trade, for
84
