the ragged trousered philanthropists-第14节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


aston　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。

‘Now　we've　forgot　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　as　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　don't　stop　in　the　night；'　Easton　said。　　‘It　would　be　a　bit　of　all　right　not　knowing　what　time　it　was　in　the　morning。　　I　suppose　the　next　thing　will　be　that　we'll　have　to　buy　a　new　clock。'

He　woke　several　times　during　the　night　and　struck　a　match　to　see　if　it　was　yet　time　to　get　up。　　At　half　past　two　the　clock　was　still　going　and　he　again　fell　asleep。　　The　next　time　he　work　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　a　jeweller'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　into　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　wandering　about　at　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　a　quarter　to　four　now。　　Where　do　you　live？　What's　your　name？'　　Easton　gave　his　name　and　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。　　‘I'm　not　sure　but　that　I　ought　to　take　you　to　the　station。　All　I　know　about　you　is　that　I　find　you　loitering　outside　this　shop。　What　have　you　got　in　that　basket？'

‘Only　my　breakfast；'　Easton　said；　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　note…book　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　the　quilt。　After　a　while　he　fell　asleep；　and　when　he　awoke　the　clock　was　still　ticking。

The　time　was　exactly　seven　o'clock。



Chapter　4

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　Frank　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；　for　there　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　his　spare　time；　aided　by　a　certain　measure　of　natural　ability；　the　boy　acquired　a　knowledge　of　decorative　painting　and　design；　and　graining　and　signwriting。

Frank's　mother　died　when　he　was　twenty…four；　and　a　year　afterwards　he　married　the　daughter　of　a　fellow　workman。　　In　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　save　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　&　Co。　Occasionally　when　they　had　no　work　in　hand；　he　was　‘stood　off'　until　something　came　in。

Ever　since　his　return　from　London；　Owen　had　been　gradually　abandoning　himself　to　hopelessness。　　Every　day　he　felt　that　the　disease　he　suffered　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　in　store　for　the　child。

Of　this　nature　were　his　reflections　as　he　walked　homewards　on　the　evening　of　the　day　when　old　Linden　was　dismissed。　　There　was　no　reason　to　believe　or　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　on　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　of　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　had　at　one　time　occupied　good　positions；　and　their　downfall　was　not　in　every　case　their　own　fault。

No　matter　how　prosperous