netian blinds; but all the same he could not help
thinking that it was only a very faint hope, for he felt that if
Sweater had intended giving anything he would have done so today; and
it was very improbable that he would see Sweater on Monday or Tuesday
at all, for the latter did not usually visit the job in the early part
of the week. However, Crass made up his mind to hope for the best,
and, pulling himself together, he presently returned to the kitchen,
where he found Slyme and Sawkins waiting for him. He had not mentioned
his hopes of a tip to either of them, but they did not need any telling
and they were both determined to have their share of whatever he got.
They eyed him keenly as he entered.

'What did 'e give yer?' demanded Sawkins, going straight to the point.

'Give me?' replied Crass. 'Nothing!'

Slyme laughed in a sneering, incredulous way, but Sawkins was inclined
to be abusive. He averred that he had been watching Crass and Sweater
and had seen the latter put his thumb and finger into his waistcoat
pocket as he walked into the dining-room, followed by Crass. It took
the latter a long time to convince his two workmates of the truth of
his own account, but he succeeded at last, and they all three agreed
that Old Sweater was a sanguinary rotter, and they lamented over the
decay of the good old-fashioned customs.

'Why, at one time o' day,' said Crass, 'only a few years ago, if you
went to a gentleman's 'ouse to paint one or two rooms you could always
be sure of a bob or two when you'd finished.'

By half past twelve everything was squared up, and, having loaded up
the hand-cart with all that remained of the materials, dirty paint-pots
and plant, they all set out together for the yard, to put all the
things away before going to the office for their money. Sawkins took
the handle of the cart, Slyme and Crass walked at one side and Owen and
Bert at the other. There was no need to push, for the road was
downhill most of the way; so much so that they had all to help to hold
back the cart, which travelled so rapidly that Bert found it difficult
to keep pace with the others and frequently broke into a trot to
recover lost ground, and Crass--being fleshy and bloated with beer,
besides being unused to much exertion--began to perspire and soon
appealed to the others not to let it go so fast--there was no need to
get done before one o'clock.

Chapter 27

The March of the Imperialists

It was an