iled eggs with bread and butter.

'Before retiring to rest: a glass of warm milk.

'During the night: a glass of milk with a biscuit or bread and butter
should be placed by the bedside and be eaten if the patient awakes.'

Whilst Owen was reading this book, Crass, Harlow, Philpot and Easton
were talking together on the other side of the street, and presently
Crass caught sight of him. They had been discussing the Secretary's
letter re the halfpenny rate, and as Owen was one of the members of the
Trades Council, Crass suggested that they should go across and tackle
him about it.

'How much is your house assessed at?' asked Owen after listening for
about a quarter of an hour to Crass's objection.

'Fourteen pound,' replied Crass.

'That means that you would have to pay sevenpence per year if we had a
halfpenny rate. Wouldn't it be worth sevenpence a year to you to know
that there were no starving children in the town?'

'Why should I 'ave to 'elp to keep the children of a man who's too lazy
to work, or spends all 'is money on drink?' shouted Crass. ''Ow are
yer goin' to make out about the likes o' them?'

'If his children are starving we should feed them first, and punish him
afterwards.'

'The rates is quite high enough as it is,' grumbled Harlow, who had
four children himself.

'That's quite true, but you must remember that the rates the working
classes at present pay are spent mostly for the benefit of other
people. Good roads are maintained for people who ride in motor cars
and carriages; the Park and the Town Band for those who have leisure to
enjoy them; the Police force to protect the property of those who have
something to lose, and so on. But if we pay this rate we shall get
something for our money.'

'We gets the benefit of the good roads when we 'as to push a 'andcart
with a load o' paint and ladders,' said Easton.

'Of course,' said Crass, 'and besides, the workin' class gets the
benefit of all the other things too, because it all makes work.'

'Well, for my part,' said Philpot, 'I wouldn't mind payin' my share
towards a 'appeny rate, although I ain't got no kids o' me own.'

The hostility of most of the working men to the proposed rate was
almost as bitter as that of the 'better' classes--the noble-minded
philanthropists who were always gushing out their sympathy for the
'dear little ones', the loathsome hypocrites who pretended that there
was no need to levy a rate because they were wil