the
latter in the same tone. 'You can't trust Crass you know, for all 'e
seems so friendly to our faces. You never know what 'e ses behind our
backs.'

'You may be sure it won't be Sawkins or any of the other light-weights,
because Nimrod won't want to pay us sixpence ha'penny for painting
guttering and rainpipes when THEY can do it near enough for fourpence
ha'penny and fivepence. They won't be able to do the sashes, though,
will they?'

'I don't know so much about that,' replied Easton. 'Anything seems to
be good enough for Hunter.'

'Look out! Ere 'e comes!' said Harlow, and they both relapsed into
silence and busied themselves with their work. Misery stood watching
them for some time without speaking, and then went out of the house.
They crept cautiously to the window of a room that overlooked the
garden and, peeping furtively out, they saw him standing on the brink
of one of the trenches, moodily watching Bundy and his mates as they
toiled at the drains. Then, to their surprise and relief, he turned
and went out of the gate! They just caught sight of one of the wheels
of his bicycle as he rode away.

The slaughter was evidently to be put off until next week! It seemed
too good to be true.

'P'hap's 'e's left a message for some of us with Crass?' suggested
Easton. 'I don't think it's likely, but it's just possible.'

'Well, I'm goin' down to ask 'im,' said Harlow, desperately. 'We may
as well know the worst at once.'

He returned in a few minutes with the information that Hunter had
decided not to stop anyone that day because he wanted to get the
outside finished during the next week, if possible.

The hands received this intelligence with mixed feelings, because
although it left them safe for the present, it meant that nearly
everybody would certainly be stopped next Saturday, if not before;
whereas if a few had been sacked today it would have made it all the
better for the rest. Still, this aspect of the business did not
greatly interfere with the relief that they all felt at knowing that
the immediate danger was over; and the fact that it was
Saturday--pay-day--also served to revive their drooping spirits. They
all felt pretty certain that Misery would return no more that day, and
presently Harlow began to sing the old favourite. 'Work! for the night
is coming!' the refrain of which was soon taken up by nearly everyone
in the house:

'Work! for the night is coming,
Wor