Part 24 (2/2)

'Give us a hand with this bucket of whitewash, will yer, Joe?'

'Certainly, me son, with the greatest of hagony,' replied Philpot as he hurried down the stairs.

As they were carrying it in Philpot winked at Bert and whispered:

'Did yer see Pontius Pilate anywheres outside?'

''E went away on 'is bike just as I come in at the gate.'

'Did 'e? Thank Gord for that! I don't wish 'im no 'arm,' said Philpot, fervently, 'but I 'opes 'e gets runned over with a motor.'

In this wish Bert entirely concurred, and similar charitable sentiments were expressed by all the others as soon as they heard that Misery was gone.

Just before four o'clock that afternoon Bert began to load up the truck with the venetian blinds, which had been taken down some days previously.

'I wonder who'll have the job of paintin' 'em?' remarked Philpot to Newman.

'P'raps's they'll take a couple of us away from ere.'

'I shouldn't think so. We're short-'anded 'ere already. Most likely they'll put on a couple of fresh 'ands. There's a 'ell of a lot of work in all them blinds, you know: I reckon they'll 'ave to 'ave three or four coats, the state they're in.'

'Yes. No doubt that's what will be done,' replied Newman, and added with a mirthless laugh:

'I don't suppose they'll have much difficulty in getting a couple of chaps.'

'No, you're right, mate. There's plenty of 'em walkin' about as a week's work would be a Gordsend to.'

'Come to think of it,' continued Newman after a pause, 'I believe the firm used to give all their blind work to old Latham, the venetian blind maker. Prap's they'll give 'im this lot to do.'

'Very likely,' replied Philpot, 'I should think 'e can do 'em cheaper even than us chaps, and that's all the firm cares about.'

How far their conjectures were fulfilled will appear later.

Shortly after Bert was gone it became so dark that it was necessary to light the candles, and Philpot remarked that although he hated working under such conditions, yet he was always glad when lighting up time came, because then knocking off time was not very far behind.

About five minutes to five, just as they were all putting their things away for the night, Nimrod suddenly appeared in the house. He had come hoping to find some of them ready dressed to go home before the proper time. Having failed in this laudable enterprise, he stood silently by himself for some seconds in the drawing-room. This was a s.p.a.cious and lofty apartment with a large semicircular bay window. Round the ceiling was a deep cornice. In the semi-darkness the room appeared to be of even greater proportions than it really was. After standing thinking in this room for a little while, Hunter turned and strode out to the kitchen, where the men were preparing to go home. Owen was taking off his blouse and ap.r.o.n as the other entered. Hunter addressed him with a malevolent snarl:

'You can call at the office tonight as you go home.'

Owen's heart seemed to stop beating. All the petty annoyances he had endured from Hunter rushed into his memory, together with what Easton had told him that morning. He stood, still and speechless, holding his ap.r.o.n in his hand and staring at the manager.

'What for?' he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed at length. 'What's the matter?'

'You'll find out what you're wanted for when you get there,' returned Hunter as he went out of the room and away from the house.

When he was gone a dead silence prevailed. The hands ceased their preparations for departure and looked at each other and at Owen in astonishment. To stand a man off like that--when the job was not half finished--and for no apparent reason: and of a Monday, too. It was unheard of. There was a general chorus of indignation. Harlow and Philpot especially were very wroth.

'If it comes to that,' Harlow shouted, 'they've got no b.l.o.o.d.y right to do it! We're ent.i.tled to an hour's notice.'

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