y to paint some of the
woodwork in the kitchen. Presently Bert came in.

'I've finished there,' he said.

'About time, too. You'll 'ave to look a bit livelier than you do, you
know, or me and you will fall out.'

Bert did not answer.

'Now I've got another job for yer. You're fond of drorin, ain't yer?'
continued Crass in a jeering tone.

'Yes, a little,' replied the boy, shamefacedly.

'Well,' said Crass, giving him the leaf he had torn out of the
pocket-book, 'you can go up to the yard and git them things and put 'em
on a truck and dror it up 'ere, and git back as soon as you can. Just
look at the paper and see if you understand it before you go. I don't
want you to make no mistakes.'

Bert took the paper and with some difficulty read as follows:

I pare steppes 8 foot
1/2 gallon Plastor off perish
1 pale off witewosh
12 lbs wite led
1/2 gallon Linsede Hoil
Do. Do. turps

'I can make it out all right.'

'You'd better bring the big truck,' said Crass, 'because I want you to
take the venetian blinds with you on it when you take it back tonight.
They've got to be painted at the shop.'

'All right.'

When the boy had departed Crass took a stroll through the house to see
how the others were getting on. Then he returned to the kitchen and
proceeded with his work.

Crass was about thirty-eight years of age, rather above middle height
and rather stout. He had a considerable quantity of curly black hair
and wore a short beard of the same colour. His head was rather large,
but low, and flat on top. When among his cronies he was in the habit
of referring to his obesity as the result of good nature and a
contented mind. Behind his back other people attributed it to beer,
some even going to far as to nickname him the 'tank'.

There was no work of a noisy kind being done this morning. Both the
carpenters and the bricklayers having been taken away, temporarily, to
another 'job'. At the same time there was not absolute silence:
occasionally Crass could hear the voices of the other workmen as they
spoke to each other, sometimes shouting from one room to another. Now
and then Harlow's voice rang through the house as he sang snatches of
music-hall songs or a verse of a Moody and Sankey hymn, and
occasionally some of the others joined in the chorus or interrupted the
singer with squeals and catcalls. Once or twice Crass was on the point
of telling them to make less row: there wou