“Yes, that’s true enough, mate. We really ought to be very thankful: we ought to consider ourselves lucky to ’ave a inside job like this when there’s such a lot of chaps walkin’ about doin’ nothing.”
“Yes,” said Owen: “we’re lucky! Although we’re in a condition of abject, miserable poverty we must consider ourselves lucky that we’re not actually starving.”
Owen was painting the door; Easton was doing the skirting. This work caused no noise, so they were able to converse without difficulty.
“Do you think it’s right for us to tamely make up our minds to live for the rest of our lives under such conditions as that?”
“No; certainly not,” replied Easton; “but things are sure to get better presently. Trade hasn’t always been as bad as it is now. Why, you can remember as well as I can a few years ago there was so much work that we was putting in fourteen and sixteen hours a day. I used to be so done up by the end of the week that I used to stay in bed nearly all day on Sunday.”
“But don’t you think it’s worth while trying to find out whether it’s possible to so arrange things that we may be able to live like civilized human beings without being alternately worked to death or starved?”
“I don’t see how we’re goin’ to alter things,” answered Easton. “At the present time, from what I hear, work is scarce everywhere. WE can’t MAKE work, can we?”
“Do you think, then, that the affairs of the world are something like the wind or the weather—altogether beyond our control? And that if they’re bad we can do nothing but just sit down and wait for them to get better?”
“Well, I don’t see ’ow we can odds it. If the people wot’s got the money won’t spend it, the likes of me and you can’t make ’em, can we?”
Owen looked curiously at Easton.