uch to pass! Winter was
returning, bringing in its train the usual crop of horrors, and the
Liberal and Tory monopolists of wisdom did not know what to do!

Rushton's had so little work in that nearly all the hands expected that
they would be slaughtered the next Saturday after the 'Beano' and there
was one man--Jim Smith he was called--who was not allowed to live even
till then: he got the sack before breakfast on the Monday morning after
the Beano.

This man was about forty-five years old, but very short for his age,
being only a little over five feet in height. The other men used to
say that Little Jim was not made right, for while his body was big
enough for a six-footer, his legs were very short, and the fact that he
was rather inclined to be fat added to the oddity of his appearance.

On the Monday morning after the Beano he was painting an upper room in
a house where several other men were working, and it was customary for
the coddy to shout 'Yo! Ho!' at mealtimes, to let the hands know when
it was time to leave off work. At about ten minutes to eight, Jim had
squared the part of the work he had been doing--the window--so he
decided not to start on the door or the skirting until after breakfast.
Whilst he was waiting for the foreman to shout 'Yo! Ho!' his mind
reverted to the Beano, and he began to hum the tunes of some of the
songs that had been sung. He hummed the tune of 'He's a jolly good
fellow', and he could not get the tune out of his mind: it kept buzzing
in his head. He wondered what time it was? It could not be very far
off eight now, to judge by the amount of work he had done since six
o'clock. He had rubbed down and stopped all the woodwork and painted
the window. A jolly good two hours' work! He was only getting
sixpence-halfpenny an hour and if he hadn't earned a bob he hadn't
earned nothing! Anyhow, whether he had done enough for 'em or not he
wasn't goin' to do no more before breakfast.

The tune of 'He's a jolly good fellow' was still buzzing in his head;
he thrust his hands deep down in his trouser pockets, and began to
polka round the room, humming softly:

'I won't do no more before breakfast!
I won't do no more before breakfast!
I won't do no more before breakfast!
So 'ip 'ip 'ip 'ooray!
So 'ip 'ip 'ip 'ooray So 'ip 'ip 'ooray!
I won't do no more before breakfast--etc.'

'No! and you won't do but very little after breakfast, her