The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists
one could see into the front garden. Harlow paused a moment to watch Bundy and the labourers who were still working in the trenches at the drains, and as he looked out he saw Hunter approaching the house. Harlow drew back hastily and returned to his work, and as he went he passed the word to the other men, warning them of the approach of Misery.
Hunter entered in his usual manner, and after crawling quietly about the house for about ten minutes he went into the drawing-room.
'I see you're putting the finishing touches on at last,' he said.
'Yes,' replied Owen. 'I've only got this bit of outlining to do, now.'
'Ah, well, it looks very nice, of course,' said Misery, in a voice of mourning, 'but we've lost money over it. It's taken you a week longer to do than we allowed for; you said three weeks and it's taken you a month; and we only allowed for fifteen books of gold, but you've been and used twenty-three.'
'You can hardly blame me for that, you know,' answered Owen. 'I could have got it done in the three weeks, but Mr Rushton told me not to hurry for the sake of a day or two, because he wanted a good job. He said he would rather lose a little over it than spoil it; and as for the extra gold, that was also his order.'
'Well, I suppose it can't be helped,' whined Misery. 'Anyhow, I'm very glad it's done, because this kind of work don't pay. We'll 'ave you back on the brush on Monday morning; we want to get the outside done next week if it keeps fine.'
The 'brush' alluded to by Nimrod was the large 'pound' brush used in ordinary painting.
Misery now began wandering about the house, in and out of the rooms; sometimes standing for several minutes silently watching the hands as they worked. As he watched them the men became nervous and awkward, each one dreading that he might be one of those who were to be paid off at one o'clock.
At about five minutes to twelve Hunter went down to the paint shop—the scullery—where Crass was mixing some colour, and getting ready some 'empties' to be taken to the yard.
'I suppose the swine's gone to ask Crass which of us is the least use,' whispered Harlow to Easton.
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