ingers trembled violently as he
wiped the perspiration from his face.

'Yes, mate,' he said despondently, after a while. 'It's one way of
gettin' a livin' and there's plenty better ways.'

In addition to the fact that his rheumatism was exceptionally bad, he
felt unusually low-spirited this morning; the gloomy weather and the
prospect of a long day of ladder work probably had something to do with
it.

'A "living" is right,' said Barrington bitterly. He also was exhausted
with the struggle up the hill and enraged by the woebegone appearance
of poor old Philpot, who was panting and quivering from the exertion.

They relapsed into silence. The unaccountable depression that
possessed Philpot deprived him of all his usual jocularity and filled
him with melancholy thoughts. He had travelled up and down this hill a
great many times before under similar circumstances and he said to
himself that if he had half a quid now for every time he had pushed a
cart up this road, he wouldn't need to do anyone out of a job all the
rest of his life.

The shop where he had been apprenticed used to be just down at the
bottom; the place had been pulled down years ago, and the ground was
now occupied by more pretentious buildings. Not quite so far down the
road--on the other side--he could see the church where he used to
attend Sunday School when he was a boy, and where he was married just
thirty years ago. Presently--when they reached the top of the hill--he
would be able to look across the valley and see the spire of the other
church, the one in the graveyard, where all those who were dear to him
had been one by one laid to rest. He felt that he would not be sorry
when the time came to join them there. Possibly, in the next world--if
there were such a place--they might all be together once more.

He was suddenly aroused from these thoughts by an exclamation from
Harlow.

'Look out! Here comes Rushton.'

They immediately resumed their journey. Rushton was coming up the hill
in his dog-cart with Grinder sitting by his side. They passed so
closely that Philpot--who was on that side of the cart--was splashed
with mud from the wheels of the trap.

'Them's some of your chaps, ain't they?' remarked Grinder.

'Yes,' replied Rushton. 'We're doing a job up this way.'

'I should 'ave thought it would pay you better to use a 'orse for sich
work as that,' said Grinder.

'We do use the horses whenever it's necessary for very big l