om the front shop. As Crass entered, Budd--who was
a pale-faced, unhealthy-looking, undersized youth about twenty years of
age--looked round and, with a grimace, motioned him to walk softly.
Crass paused, wondering what the other meant; but the shopman beckoned
him to advance, grinning and winking and jerking his thumb over his
shoulder in the direction of the office. Crass hesitated, fearing that
possibly the miserable Budd had gone--or been driven--out of his mind;
but as the latter continued to beckon and grin and point towards the
office Crass screwed up his courage and followed him behind one of the
showcases, and applying his eye to a crack in the woodwork of the
partition indicated by Budd, he could see Mr Rushton in the act of
kissing and embracing Miss Wade, the young lady clerk. Crass watched
them for some time and then whispered to Budd to call Slyme, and when
the latter came they all three took turns at peeping through the crack
in the partition.

When they had looked their fill they came out from behind the showcase,
almost bursting with suppressed merriment. Budd reached down a key
from where it was hanging on a hook on the wall and gave it to Crass
and the two resumed their interrupted journey. But before they had
proceeded a dozen yards from the shop, they were accosted by a short,
elderly man with grey hair and a beard. This man looked about
sixty-five years of age, and was very shabbily dressed. The ends of
the sleeves of his coat were frayed and ragged, and the elbows were
worn threadbare. His boots were patched, broken, and down at heel, and
the knees and bottoms of the legs of his trousers were in the same
condition as the sleeves of his coat. This man's name was Latham; he
was a venetian blind maker and repairer. With his son, he was supposed
to be 'in business' on his own account, but as most of their work was
done for 'the trade', that is, for such firms as Rushton & Co., they
would be more correctly described as men who did piecework at home.

He had been 'in business'--as he called it--for about forty years
working, working, always working; and ever since his son became old
enough to labour he had helped his father in the philanthropic task of
manufacturing profits for the sweaters who employed them. They had
been so busy running after work, and working for the benefit of others,
that they had overlooked the fact that they were only earning a bare
living for themselves and now, after