第118章

Meantime, Misery was wandering about the house and pounds like an evil spirit seeking rest and finding none.He stood for some time gloomily watching the four gardeners, who were busily at work laying strips of turf, mowing the lawn, rolling the gravel paths and trimming the trees and bushes.The boy Bert, Philpot, Harlow, Easton and Sawkins were loading a hand-cart with ladders and empty paint-pots to return to the yard.Just as they were setting out, Misery stopped them, remarking that the cart was not half loaded - he said it would take a month to get all the stuff away if they went on like that; so by his directions they placed another long ladder on top of the pile and once more started on their way, but before they had gone two dozen yards one of the wheels of the cart collapsed and the load was scattered over the roadway.Bert was at the same side of the cart as the wheel that broke and he was thrown violently to the ground, where he lay half stunned, in the midst of the ladders and planks.When they got him out they were astonished to find that, thanks to the special Providence that watches over all small boys, he was almost unhurt -just a little dazed, that was all; and by the time Sawkins returned with another cart, Bert was able to help to gather up the fallen paint-pots and to accompany the men with the load to the yard.At the corner of the road they paused to take a last look at the `job'.

`There it stands!' said Harlow, tragically, extending his arm towards the house.`There it stands! A job that if they'd only have let us do it properly, couldn't 'ave been done with the number of 'ands we've 'ad, in less than four months; and there it is, finished, messed up, slobbered over and scamped, in nine weeks!'

`Yes, and now we can all go to 'ell,' said Philpot, gloomily.

At the yard they found Bundy and his mate, Ned Dawson, who helped them to hang up the ladders in their usual places.Philpot was glad to get out of assisting to do this, for he had contracted a rather severe attack of rheumatism when working outside at the `Cave'.Whilst the others were putting the ladders away he assisted Bert to carry the paint-pots and buckets into the paint shop, and while there he filled a small medicine bottle he had brought with him for the purpose, with turpentine from the tank.He wanted this stuff to rub into his shoulders and legs, and as he secreted the bottle in the inner pocket of his coat, he muttered: `This is where we gets some of our own back.'

They took the key of the yard to the office and as they separated to go home Bundy suggested that the best thing they could do would be to sew their bloody mouths up for a few months, because there was not much probability of their getting another job until about March.

The next morning while Crass and Slyme were finishing inside, Owen wrote the two gates.On the front entrance `The Cave' and on the back `Tradesmens Entrance', in gilded letters.In the meantime, Sawkins and Bert made several journeys to the Yard with the hand-cart.

Crass - working in the kitchen with Slyme - was very silent and thoughtful.Ever since the job was started, every time Mr Sweater had visited the house to see what progress was being made, Crass had been grovelling to him in the hope of receiving a tip when the work was finished.He had been very careful to act upon any suggestions that Sweater had made from time to time and on several occasions had taken a lot of trouble to get just the right tints of certain colours, making up a number of different shades and combinations, and doing parts of the skirtings or mouldings of rooms in order that Mr Sweater might see exactly - before they went on with it ?what it would look like when finished.He made a great pretence of deferring to Sweater's opinion, and assured him that he did not care how much trouble he took as long as he - Sweater - was pleased.In fact, it was no trouble at all: it was a pleasure.As the work neared completion, Crass began to speculate upon the probable amount of the donation he would receive as the reward of nine weeks of cringing, fawning, abject servility.He thought it quite possible that he might get a quid: it would not be too much, considering all the trouble he had taken.It was well worth it.At any rate, he felt certain that he was sure to get ten bob; a gentleman like Mr Sweater would never have the cheek to offer less.The more he thought about it the more improbable it appeared that the amount would be less than a quid, and he made up his mind that whatever he got he would take good care that none of the other men knew anything about it.HE was the one who had had all the worry of the job, and he was the only one entitled to anything there was to be had.Besides, even if he got a quid, by the time you divided that up amongst a dozen - or even amongst two or three - it would not be worth having.