the ragged trousered philanthropists-第19节

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All　the　toys　being　collected；　Frankie　picked　up　the　box　and　placed　it　noisily　in　its　accustomed　corner　of　the　room。

‘I　should　think　the　workers　will　be　jolly　glad　when　they　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　by　the　people　who　do　nothing。　　The　workers　think　that　their　children　are　not　as　good　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　good　and　clothes　and　homes。'

‘Then　I　should　think　the　workers　ought　to　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　School　teacher　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'd　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　thats　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；　dearie；　you've　been　taught　to　think　about　it；　and　Dad　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　should　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　their　own　judgement；　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　the　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　she　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　really　St　Thomas　was　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　to　just　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　judgement。'

‘Well；　now；　that's　what　YOU　were　told；　but　all　the　other　children's　mothers　and　fathers　tell　them　to　believe；　without　thinking；　whatever　the　teacher　says。　　So　it　will　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　will　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　al…ways…for…get；'　he　replied；　when　he　had　in　some　degree　recovered。　As　he　lay　back　in　the　chair；　his　face　haggard　and　of　a　ghastly　whiteness；　and　with　the　water　dripping　from　his　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　nay　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　I've　got　for　you　under　my　coat。'

In　the　silence　the　purring　of　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　a　Persian。　　Just　the　very　thing　I　wanted。'

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　having　been　placed　with　his　boots　near　the　fire　to　dry；　he　explained　as　they　were　taking　tea　the　reason　of　his　late　homecoming。

‘I'm　afraid　he　won't　find　it　very　easy　to　get　another　job；'　he　remarked；　referring　to　Linden。　　‘Even　in　the　summer　nobody　will　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　will　suffer　most。　　As　for　Linden　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　the　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　the　system　that　robbed　them；　and　have　resisted　and　ridiculed　every　proposal　to　alter　it。　　It's　wrong　to　feel　sorry　for　such　people；　they　deserve　to　suffer。'

After　tea；　as　he　watched　his　wife　clearing　away　the　tea　things　and　rearranging　the　drying　clothing　by　the　fire；　Owen　for　the　first　time　noticed　that　she　looked　unusually　ill。

‘You　don't　look　well　tonight；　Nora；'　he　said；　crossing　over　to　her　and　putting　his　arm　around　her。

‘I　don't　feel　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　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　put　Frankie　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　to　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　didn't　want　to　give　way　to　it　like　this；'　the　woman　said；　‘because　I　know　you　must　be　tired　out　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　lamp；　so　say　good　night　to　Frankie　and　come　at　once。'

‘I　won't　say　good　night　properly；　now；　Mum；'　remarked　the　boy；　‘because　Dad　can　carry　me　into　your　room　before　he　puts　me　into　bed。'

A　little　later；　as　Owen　was　undressing　Frankie；　the　latter　remarked　as　he　looked　affectionately　at　the　kitten；　which　was　sitting　on　the　hearthrug　watching　the　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　their　conversation；　purred　loudly　and　winked　as　if　to　intimate　that　he　did　not　care　what　rank　was　conferred　upon　him　so　long　as　the　commisariat　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；　p'raps　they　are；'　said　Owen。

‘Most　cats　are　called　Tom　or　Kitty；　but　I　don't　want　a　COMMON　name　for　him。'

‘Well；　can't　you　call　him　after　someone　you　know？'

‘I　know；　I'll　call　him　after　a　little　girl　that　comes　to　our　school；　a　fine　name；　Maud！　　That'll　be　a　good　one；　won't　it　Dad？'

‘Yes；'　said　Owen。

‘I　say；　Dad；'　said　Frankie；　suddenly　realizing　the　awful　fact　that　he　was　being　put　to　bed。　　‘You're　forgetting　all　about　my　story；　and　you　promised　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　wi