Page:Ragged Trousered Philanthropists.djvu/174

The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists By this time Alf had arrived at the door at the back of the bar. He was a burly young man about twenty-two or twenty-three years of age.

'Put it outside,' growled the landlord indicating the culprit.

The barman instantly vaulted over the counter, and having opened wide the door leading into the street, he turned to the half-drunken man and jerking his thumb in the direction of the door said:

'Are yer goin'?'

'I'm goin' to 'ave 'arf a pint along of this genelman first—'

'Yes, it's all right,' said Philpot to the landlord. 'Let's 'ave two 'arf pints, and say no more about it.'

'You mind your own business,' shouted the landlord, turning savagely on him. E'll get no more 'ere! I don't want no drunken men in my 'ouse. Who asked you to interfere?'

'Now, then!' exclaimed the barman to the cause of the trouble. 'Outside!'

'Not me!' said the Semi-Drunk, firmly, 'not before I've 'ad my 'arf—'

But before he could conclude, the barman had clutched him by the collar, dragged him violently to the door and shot him into the middle of the road, where he fell in a heap almost under the wheels of a brewer's dray which happened to be passing. This accomplished, Alf shut the door, and retired behind the counter again.

'Serve 'im bloody well right,' said Crass.

'I couldn't 'elp laughin' when I seen 'im go flyin' through the bloody door,' said Bundy.

'You oughter 'ave more sense than to go interferin' like that,' said Crass to Philpot. 'It was nothing to do with you.'

Philpot made no reply. He was standing with his back to the others, peeping out into the street over the top of the window casing. Then he opened the door and went out into the street. Crass and the others—through the window—watched him assist the Semi-Drunk to his feet and rub some of the dirt off his clothes, and presently, after some argument they saw the two go away together, arm in arm.

Crass and the others laughed, and returned to their half finished drinks.

'Why, old Joe aint drunk 'ardly 'arf of 'is!' cried Easton, seeing Philpot's porter on the counter. 'Fancy going away like that!' 162