“Well, I can’t ’elp it,” growled Crass. “You know ’ow it is: ’Unter sends ’im ’ere to do paintin’, and I’ve got to put ’im on it. There ain’t nothing else for ’im to do.”
Further discussion on this subject was prevented by Sawkins’ arrival, nearly a quarter of an hour late.
“Oh, you ’ave come, then,” sneered Crass. “Thought p’raps you’d gorn for a ’oliday.”
Sawkins muttered something about oversleeping himself, and having hastily put on his apron, he went upstairs with Harlow.
“Now, let’s see,” Crass said, addressing Philpot. “You and Newman ’ad better go and make a start on the second floor: this is the colour, and ’ere’s a couple of candles. You’d better not both go in one room or ’Unter will growl about it. You take one of the front and let Newman take one of the back rooms. Take a bit of stoppin’ with you: they’re goin’ to ’ave two coats, but you’d better putty up the ’oles as well as you can, this time.”
“Only two coats!” said Philpot. “Them rooms will never look nothing with two coats—a light colour like this.”
“It’s only goin’ to get two, anyway,” returned Crass, testily. “’Unter said so, so you’ll ’ave to do the best you can with ’em, and get ’em smeared over middlin’ sudden, too.”
Crass did not think it necessary to mention that according to the copy of the specification of the work which he had in his pocket the rooms in question were supposed to have four coats.
Crass now turned to Owen.
“There’s that drorin’-room,” he said. “I don’t know what’s goin’ to be done with that yet. I don’t think they’ve decided about it. Whatever’s to be done to it will be an extra, because all that’s said about it in the contract is to face it up with putty and give it one coat of white. So you and Easton ’ad better get on with it.”