In the midst of the uproar Crass came upstairs.
“’Ere!” he shouted. “For Christ’s sake make less row! Suppose Nimrod was to come back!”
“Oh, he ain’t comin’ any more today,” said Harlow, recklessly.
“Besides, what if ’e does come?” cried Easton. ’Oo cares for ’im?”
“Well, we never know; and for that matter Rushton or Sweater might come at any minit.”
With this, Crass went muttering back to the scullery, and the men relapsed into their usual silence.
At ten minutes to one they all ceased work, put away their colours and locked up the house. There were a number of ’empties” to be taken away and left at the yard on their way to the office; these Crass divided amongst the others—carrying nothing himself—and then they all set out for the office to get their money, cracking jokes as they went along. Harlow and Easton enlivened the journey by coughing significantly whenever they met a young woman, and audibly making some complimentary remark about her personal appearance. If the girl smiled, each of them eagerly claimed to have “seen her first”, but if she appeared offended or “stuck up”, they suggested that she was cross-cut or that she had been eating vinegar with a fork. Now and then they kissed their hands affectionately to servant-girls whom they saw looking out of windows. Some of these girls laughed, others looked indignant, but whichever way they took it was equally amusing to Crass and the rest, who were like a crowd of boys just let out of school.
It will be remembered that there was a back door to Rushton’s office; in this door was a small sliding panel or trap-door with a little shelf at the bottom. The men stood in the road on the pavement outside the closed door, their money being passed out to them through the sliding panel. As there was no shelter, when it rained they occasionally got wet through while waiting to be paid. With some firms it is customary to call out the names of the men and pay them in order of seniority or ability, but there was no such system here; the man who got to the aperture first was paid first, and so on. The result was that there was always a sort of miniature “Battle of Life”, the men pushing and struggling against each other as if their lives depended upon their being paid by a certain time.
On the ledge of the little window through which their money was passed there was always a Hospital collection-box. Every man put either a penny or twopence into this box. Of course, it was not compulsory to do so, but they all did, because they felt that any man who omitted to contribute might be “marked”. They did not all agree with contributing to the Hospital, for several reasons. They knew that the doctors at the Hospital made a practice of using the free patients to make experiments upon, and they also knew that the so-called “free” patients who contribute so very largely directly to the maintenance of such institutions, get scant consideration when they apply for the “free” treatment, and are plainly given to understand that they are receiving “charity”. Some of the men thought that, considering the extent to which they contributed, they should be entitled to attention as a right.
After receiving their wages, Crass, Easton, Bundy, Philpot, Harlow and a few others adjourned to the Cricketers for a drink. Owen went away alone, and Slyme also went on by himself. There was no use waiting for Easton to come out of the public house, because there was no knowing how long he would be; he might stay half an hour or two hours.