“I suppose Misery didn’t say nothin’ about ’im this mornin’?” inquired Easton.
“No,” replied Crass, and added: “I only ’ope Owen don’t think as I never said anything against ’im. ’E looked at me very funny that night after Nimrod went away. Owen needn’t think nothing like that about ME, because I’m a chap like this—if I couldn’t do nobody no good, I wouldn’t never do ’em no ’arm!”
At this some of the others furtively exchanged significant glances, and Harlow began to smile, but no one said anything.
Philpot, noticing that the newcomer had not helped himself to any tea, called Bert’s attention to the fact and the boy filled Owen’s cup and passed it over to the new hand.
Their conjectures regarding the cause of Hunter’s good humour were all wrong. As the reader knows, Owen had not been discharged at all, and there was nobody dead. The real reason was that, having decided to take on another man, Hunter had experienced no difficulty in getting one at the same reduced rate as that which Newman was working for, there being such numbers of men out of employment. Hitherto the usual rate of pay in Mugsborough had been sevenpence an hour for skilled painters. The reader will remember that Newman consented to accept a job at sixpence halfpenny. So far none of the other workmen knew that Newman was working under price: he had told no one, not feeling sure whether he was the only one or not. The man whom Hunter had taken on that morning also decided in his mind that he would keep his own counsel concerning what pay he was to receive, until he found out what the others were getting.
Just before half past eight Owen arrived and was immediately assailed with questions as to what had transpired at the office. Crass listened with ill-concealed chagrin to Owen’s account, but most of the others were genuinely pleased.
“But what a way to speak to anybody!” observed Harlow, referring to Hunter’s manner on the previous Monday night.
“You know, I reckon if ole Misery ’ad four legs, ’e’d make a very good pig,” said Philpot, solemnly, “and you can’t expect nothin’ from a pig but a grunt.”
During the morning, as Easton and Owen were working together in the drawing-room, the former remarked:
“Did I tell you I had a room I wanted to let, Frank?”