already--he could paint
back doors as well as anybody! and railings as well. Owen had taught
him lots of things and had promised to do some patterns of graining for
him so that he might practise copying them at home in the evenings.
Owen was a fine chap. Bert resolved that he would tell him what Crass
had been saying to Easton. Just fancy, the cheek of a rotter like
Crass, trying to get Owen the sack! It would be more like it if Crass
was to be sacked himself, so that Owen could be the foreman.

One minute to ten.

With a heavy heart Bert watched the clock. His legs were still aching
very badly. He could not see the hands of the clock moving, but they
were creeping on all the same. Now, the minute hand was over the edge
of the number, and he began to deliberate whether he might not rest for
another five minutes? But he had been such a long time already on his
errand that he dismissed the thought. The minute hand was now upright
and it was time to go on.

Just as he was about to get up a harsh voice behind him said:

'How much longer are you going to sit there?'

Bert started up guiltily, and found himself confronted by Mr Rushton,
who was regarding him with an angry frown, whilst close by towered the
colossal figure of the obese Sweater, the expression on his greasy
countenance betokening the pain he experienced on beholding such as
appalling example of juvenile depravity.

'What do you mean by sich conduct?' demanded Rushton, indignantly. 'The
idear of sitting there like that when most likely the men are waiting
for them things?'

Crimson with shame and confusion, the boy made no reply.

'You've been there a long time,' continued Rushton, 'I've been watchin'
you all the time I've been comin' down the road.'

Bert tried to speak to explain why he had been resting, but his mouth
and his tongue had become quite parched from terror and he was unable
to articulate a single word.

'You know, that's not the way to get on in life, my boy,' observed
Sweater lifting his forefinger and shaking his fat head reproachfully.

'Get along with you at once!' Rushton said, roughly. 'I'm surprised at
yer! The idear! Sitting down in my time!'

This was quite true. Rushton was not merely angry, but astonished at
the audacity of the boy. That anyone in his employment should dare to
have the impertinence to sit down in his time was incredible.

The boy lifted the handle of the cart and once more began to push it