If they work a man to death they can get another for nothing at the corner of the next street.They don't have to buy him; all they have to do is to give him enough money to provide him with food and clothing - of a kind - while he is working for them.If they only make him ill, they will not have to feed him or provide him with medical care while he is laid up.He will either go without these things or pay for them himself.At the same time it must be admitted that the workman scores over both the horse and the slave, inasmuch as he enjoys the priceless blessing of Freedom.If he does not like the hirer's conditions he need not accept them.He can refuse to work, and he can go and starve.There are no ropes on him.He is a Free man.He is the Heir of all the Ages.He enjoys perfect Liberty.He has the right to choose freely which he will do - Submit or Starve.
Eat dirt or eat nothing.
The wind blew colder and colder.The sky, which at first had shown small patches of blue through rifts in the masses of clouds, had now become uniformly grey.There was every indication of an impending fall of snow.
The men perceived this with conflicting feelings.If it did commence to snow, they would not be able to continue this work, and therefore they found themselves involuntarily wishing that it would snow, or rain, or hail, or anything that would stop the work.But on the other hand, if the weather prevented them getting on with the outside, some of them would have to `stand off', because the inside was practically finished.None of them wished to lose any time if they could possibly help it, because there were only ten days more before Christmas.
The morning slowly wore away and the snow did not fall.The hands worked on in silence, for they were in no mood for talking, and not only that, but they were afraid that Hunter or Rushton or Crass might be watching them from behind some bush or tree, or through some of the windows.This dread possessed them to such an extent that most of them were almost afraid even to look round, and kept steadily on at work.None of them wished to spoil his chance of being kept on to help to do the other house that it was reported Rushton & Co.were going to `do up' for Mr Sweater.
Twelve o'clock came at last, and Crass's whistle had scarcely ceased to sound before they all assembled in the kitchen before the roaring fire.Sweater had sent in two tons of coal and had given orders that fires were to be lit every day in nearly every room to make the house habitable by Christmas.
`I wonder if it's true as the firm's got another job to do for old Sweater?' remarked Harlow as he was toasting a bloater on the end of the pointed stick.
`True? No!' said the man on the pail scornfully.`It's all bogy.You know that empty 'ouse as they said Sweater 'ad bought - the one that Rushton and Nimrod was seen lookin' at?'
`Yes,' replied Harlow.The other men listened with evident interest.
`Well, they wasn't pricing it up after all! T he landlord of that 'ouse is abroad, and there was some plants in the garden as Rushton thought 'e'd like, and 'e was tellin' Misery which ones 'e wanted.
And afterwards old Pontius Pilate came up with Ned Dawson and a truck.
They made two or three journeys and took bloody near everything in the garden as was worth takin'.What didn't go to Rushton's place went to 'Unter's.'
The disappointment of their hopes for another job was almost forgotten in their interest in this story.
`Who told you about it?' said Harlow.
`Ned Dawson 'imself.It's right enough what I say.Ask 'im.'
Ned Dawson, usually called `Bundy's mate', had been away from the house for a few days down at the yard doing odd jobs, and had only come back to the `Cave' that morning.On being appealed to, he corroborated Dick Wantley's statement.
`They'll be gettin' theirselves into trouble if they ain't careful,'
remarked Easton.
`Oh, no they won't, Rushton's too artful for that.It seems the agent is a pal of 'is, and they worked it between 'em.'
`Wot a bloody cheek, though!' exclaimed Harlow.
`Oh, that's nothing to some of the things I've known 'em do before now,' said the man on the pail.`Why, don't you remember, back in the summer, that carved hoak hall table as Rushton pinched out of that 'ouse on Grand Parade?'
`Yes; that was a bit of all right too, wasn't it?' cried Philpot, and several of the others laughed.
`You know, that big 'ouse we did up last summer - No.596,' Wantley continued, for the benefit of those not `in the know'.`Well, it 'ad bin empty for a long time and we found this 'ere table in a cupboard under the stairs.A bloody fine table it was too.One of them bracket tables what you fix to the wall, without no legs.It 'ad a 'arf-round marble top to it, and underneath was a carved hoak figger, a mermaid, with 'er arms up over 'er 'ead 'oldin' up the table top -something splendid!' The man on the pail waxed enthusiastic as he thought of it.`Must 'ave been worth at least five quid.Well, just as we pulled this 'ere table out, who should come in but Rushton, and when 'e seen it, 'e tells Crass to cover it over with a sack and not to let nobody see it.And then 'e clears orf to the shop and sends the boy down with the truck and 'as it took up to 'is own 'ouse, and it's there now, fixed in the front 'all.I was sent up there a couple of months ago to paint and varnish the lobby doors and I seen it meself.There's a pitcher called "The Day of Judgement" 'angin' on the wall just over it - thunder and lightning and earthquakes and corpses gettin' up out o' their graves - something bloody 'orrible!
And underneath the picture is a card with a tex out of the Bible -"Christ is the 'ead of this 'ouse: the unknown guest at every meal.
The silent listener to every conversation." I was workin' there for three or four days and I got to know it orf by 'eart.'
`Well, that takes the biskit, don't it?' said Philpot.
