As they were carrying it in Philpot winked at Bert and whispered:
“Did yer see Pontius Pilate anywheres outside?”
“’E went away on ’is bike just as I come in at the gate.”
“Did ’e? Thank Gord for that! I don’t wish ’im no ’arm,” said Philpot, fervently, “but I ’opes ’e gets runned over with a motor.”
In this wish Bert entirely concurred, and similar charitable sentiments were expressed by all the others as soon as they heard that Misery was gone.
Just before four o’clock that afternoon Bert began to load up the truck with the venetian blinds, which had been taken down some days previously.
“I wonder who’ll have the job of paintin’ ’em?” remarked Philpot to Newman.
“P’raps’s they’ll take a couple of us away from ere.”
“I shouldn’t think so. We’re short-’anded ’ere already. Most likely they’ll put on a couple of fresh ’ands. There’s a ’ell of a lot of work in all them blinds, you know: I reckon they’ll ’ave to ’ave three or four coats, the state they’re in.”
“Yes. No doubt that’s what will be done,” replied Newman, and added with a mirthless laugh: