He was at that moment wearing the pair of second-hand boots that Ruth had bought for him, but he had told Harlow - who had passed some remark about them - that he had had them for years, wearing them only for best.He felt very resentful as he listened to the other's talk, and Owen perceived it, but nevertheless he continued:
`Unless the present system is altered, that is all we have to look forward to; and yet you're one of the upholders of the present system - you help to perpetuate it!'
`'Ow do I help to perpetuate it?' demanded Easton.
`By not trying to find out how to end it - by not helping those who are trying to bring a better state of things into existence.Even if you are indifferent to your own fate - as you seem to be - you have no right to be indifferent to that of the child for whose existence in this world you are responsible.Every man who is not helping to bring about a better state of affairs for the future is helping to perpetuate the present misery, and is therefore the enemy of his own children.
There is no such thing as being natural: we must either help or hinder.'
As Owen opened the door to paint its edge, Bert came along the passage.
`Look out!' he cried, `Misery's comin' up the road.'E'll be 'ere in a minit.'
It was not often that Easton was glad to hear of the approach of Nimrod, but on this occasion he heard Bert's message with a sigh of relief.
`I say,' added the boy in a whisper to Owen, `if it comes orf - I mean if you gets the job to do this room - will you ask to 'ave me along of you?'
`Yes, all right, sonny,' replied Owen, and Bert went off to warn the others.
`Unaware that he had been observed, Nimrod sneaked stealthily into the house and began softly crawling about from room to room, peeping around corners and squinting through the cracks of doors, and looking through keyholes.He was almost pleased to see that everybody was very hard at work, but on going into Newman's room Misery was not satisfied with the progress made since his last visit.The fact was that Newman had been forgetting himself again this morning.He had been taking a little pains with the work, doing it something like properly, instead of scamping and rushing it in the usual way.The result was that he had not done enough.
`You know, Newman, this kind of thing won't do!' Nimrod howled.`You must get over a bit more than this or you won't suit me! If you can't move yourself a bit quicker I shall 'ave to get someone else.You've been in this room since seven o'clock this morning and it's dam near time you was out of it!'
Newman muttered something about being nearly finished now, and Hunter ascended to the next landing - the attics, where the cheap man -Sawkins, the labourer - was at work.Harlow had been taken away from the attics to go on with some of the better work, so Sawkins was now working alone.He had been slogging into it like a Trojan and had done quite a lot.He had painted not only the sashes of the window, but also a large part of the glass, and when doing the skirting he had included part of the floor, sometimes an inch, sometimes half an inch.
The paint was of a dark drab colour and the surface of the newly painted doors bore a strong resemblance to corduroy cloth, and from the bottom corners of nearly every panel there was trickling down a large tear, as if the doors were weeping for the degenerate condition of the decorative arts.But these tears caused to throb of pity in the bosom of Misery: neither did the corduroy-like surface of the work grate upon his feelings.He perceived them not.He saw only that there was a Lot of Work done and his soul was filled with rapture as he reflected that the man who had accomplished all this was paid only fivepence an hour.At the same time it would never do to let Sawkins know that he was satisfied with the progress made, so he said:
`I don't want you to stand too much over this up 'ere, you know, Sawkins.Just mop it over anyhow, and get away from it as quick as you can.'
`All right, sir,' replied Sawkins, wiping the sweat from his brow as Misery began crawling downstairs again.
`Where's Harlow go to, then?' he demanded of Philpot.`'E wasn't 'ere just now, when I came up.'
`'E's gorn downstairs, sir, out the back,' replied Joe, jerking his thumb over his shoulder and winking at Hunter.`'E'll be back in 'arf a mo.' And indeed at that moment Harlow was just coming upstairs again.
`'Ere, we can't allow this kind of thing in workin' hours, you know.'
Hunter bellowed.`There's plenty of time for that in the dinner hour!'
Nimrod now went down to the drawing-room, which Easton and Owen had been painting.He stood here deep in thought for some time, mentally comparing the quantity of work done by the two men in this room with that done by Sawkins in the attics.Misery was not a painter himself:
he was a carpenter, and he thought but little of the difference in the quality of the work: to him it was all about the same: just plain painting.
`I believe it would pay us a great deal better,' he thought to himself, `if we could get hold of a few more lightweights like Sawkins.' And with his mind filled with this reflection he shortly afterwards sneaked stealthily from the house.
