But, as they began to realize that the finish of the job was in sight, a kind of panic seized upon the hands, especially those who had been taken on last and who would therefore be the first to be “stood still”. Easton, however, felt pretty confident that Crass would do his best to get him kept on till the end of the job, for they had become quite chummy lately, usually spending a few evenings together at the Cricketers every week.
“There’ll be a bloody slaughter ’ere soon,” remarked Harlow to Philpot one day as they were painting the banisters of the staircase. “I reckon next week will about finish the inside.”
“And the outside ain’t goin’ to take very long, you know,” replied Philpot.
“They ain’t got no other work in, have they?”
“Not that I knows of,” replied Philpot gloomily; “and I don’t think anyone else has either.”
“You know that little place they call the ‘Kiosk’ down the Grand Parade, near the bandstand,” asked Harlow after a pause.
“Where they used to sell refreshments?”
“Yes; it belongs to the Corporation, you know.”
“It’s been closed up lately, ain’t it?”
“Yes; the people who ’ad it couldn’t make it pay; but I ’eard last night that Grinder the fruit-merchant is goin’ to open it again. If it’s true, there’ll be a bit of a job there for someone, because it’ll ’ave to be done up.”