en who were
already out of employment.

'I can't make it out, myself,' remarked Easton. 'Things seems to get
worse every year. There don't seem to be 'arf the work about that
there used to be, and even what there is is messed up anyhow, as if the
people who 'as it done can't afford to pay for it.'

'Yes,' said Harlow; 'that's true enough. Why, just look at the work
that's in one o' them 'ouses on the Grand Parade. People must 'ave 'ad
more money to spend in those days, you know; all those massive curtain
cornishes over the drawing- and dining-room winders--gilded solid!
Why, nowadays they'd want all the bloody 'ouse done down right
through--inside and out, for the money it cost to gild one of them.'

'It seems that nearly everybody is more or less 'ard up nowadays,' said
Philpot. 'I'm jiggered if I can understand it, but there it is.'

'You should ast Owen to explain it to yer,' remarked Crass with a
jeering laugh. ''E knows all about wot's the cause of poverty, but 'e
won't tell nobody. 'E's been GOIN' to tell us wot it is for a long
time past, but it don't seem to come orf.'

Crass had not yet had an opportunity of producing the Obscurer cutting,
and he made this remark in the hope of turning the conversation into a
channel that would enable him to do so. But Owen did not respond, and
went on reading his newspaper.

'We ain't 'ad no lectures at all lately, 'ave we?' said Harlow in an
injured tone. 'I think it's about time Owen explained what the real
cause of poverty is. I'm beginning to get anxious about it.'

The others laughed.

When Philpot had finished eating his dinner he went out of the kitchen
and presently returned with a small pair of steps, which he opened and
placed in a corner of the room, with the back of the steps facing the
audience.

'There you are, me son!' he exclaimed to Owen. 'There's a pulpit for
yer.'

'Yes! come on 'ere!' cried Crass, feeling in his waistcoat pocket for
the cutting. 'Tell us wot's the real cause of poverty.'

''Ear, 'ear,' shouted the man on the pail. 'Git up into the bloody
pulpit and give us a sermon.'

As Owen made no response to the invitations, the crowd began to hoot
and groan.

'Come on, man,' whispered Philpot, winking his goggle eye persuasively
at Owen. 'Come on, just for a bit of turn, to pass the time away.'

Owen accordingly ascended the steps--much to the secret delight of
Crass--and was immediately greeted with a round of enthu