Page:The cry for justice - an anthology of the literature of social protest. - (IA cryforjusticea00sinc).pdf/859

 Each man on the "job" paid Bert threepence a week for the tea and sugar—they did not have milk—and although they had tea at breakfast time as well as at dinner the lad was generally considered to be making a fortune

As each man came in he filled his cup, jam jar, or condensed milk tin with tea from the steaming pail, before sitting down. Most of them brought their food in little wicker baskets, which they held on their laps, or placed on the floor beside them.

At first there was no attempt at conversation and nothing was heard but the sounds of eating and drinking and the frizzling of the bloater which Easton, one of the painters, was toasting on the end of a pointed stick at the fire.

"I don't think much of this bloody tea," suddenly remarked Sawkins, one of the laborers.

"Well, it oughter be all right," retorted Bert; "it's bin bilin' ever since 'arf past eleven"

"Has anyone seen old Jack Linden since 'e got the push?" inquired Harlow.

"I seen 'im Saturday," said Slyme.

"Is 'e doin' anything?"

"I don't know: I didn't 'ave time to speak to 'im."

"No, 'e ain't got nothing," remarked Philpot. "I seem 'im Saturday night, an' 'e told me 'e's been walkin' about ever since."

Philpot did not add that he had "lent" Linden a shilling, which he never expected to see again.

"'E won't be able to get a job again in a 'urry," remarked Easton; "'e's too old."

"You know, after all, you can't blame Misery for sackin' 'im," said Crass after a pause. "'E was too slow for a funeral."