The Week before Christmas During the next week Owen painted a sign on the outer wall of one of the workshops at the yard, and he also wrote the name of the firm on three of the handcarts.
These and other odd jobs kept him employed a few hours every day, so that he was not actually out of work.
One afternoon - there being nothing to do - he went home at three o'clock, but almost as soon as he reached the house Bert White came with a coffin-plate which had to be written at once.The lad said he had been instructed to wait for it.
Nora gave the boy some tea and bread and butter to eat whilst Owen was doing the coffin-plate, and presently Frankie - who had been playing out in the street - made his appearance.The two boys were already known to each other, for Bert had been there several times before - on errands similar to the present one, or to take lessons on graining and letter-painting from Owen.
`I'm going to have a party next Monday - after Christmas,' remarked Frankie.`Mother told me I might ask you if you'll come?'
`All right,' said Bert; `and I'll bring my Pandoramer.'
`What is it? Is it alive?' asked Frankie with a puzzled look.
`Alive! No, of course not,' replied Bert with a superior air.`It's a show, like they have at the Hippodrome or the Circus.'
`How big is it?'
`Not very big: it's made out of a sugar-box.I made it myself.It's not quite finished yet, but I shall get it done this week.There's a band as well, you know.I do that part with this.'
`This' was a large mouth organ which he produced from the inner pocket of his coat.
`Play something now.'
Bert accordingly played, and Frankie sang at the top of his voice a selection of popular songs, including `The Old Bull and Bush', `Has Anyone seen a German Band?', `Waiting at the Church' and finally -possibly as a dirge for the individual whose coffin-plate Owen was writing - `Goodbye, Mignonette' and `I wouldn't leave my little wooden hut for you'.
`You don't know what's in that,' said Frankie, referring to a large earthenware bread-pan which Nora had just asked Owen to help her to lift from the floor on to one of the chairs.The vessel in question was covered with a clean white cloth.
`Christmas pudding,' replied Bert, promptly.
`Guessed right first time!' cried Frankie.`We got the things out of the Christmas Club on Saturday.We've been paying in ever since last Christmas.We're going to mix it now, and you can have a stir too if you like, for luck.'
Whilst they were stirring the pudding, Frankie several times requested the others to feel his muscle: he said he felt sure that he would soon be strong enough to go out to work, and he explained to Bert that the extraordinary strength he possessed was to be attributed to the fact that he lived almost exclusively on porridge and milk.
For the rest of the week, Owen continued to work down at the yard with Sawkins, Crass, and Slynie, painting some of the ladders, steps and other plant belonging to the firm.These things had to have two coats of paint and the name Rushton & Co.written on them.As soon as they had got some of them second-coated, Owen went on with the writing, leaving the painting for the others, so as to share the work as fairly as possible.Several times during the week one or other of them was taken away to do some other work; once Crass and Slyme had to go and wash off and whiten a ceiling somewhere, and several times Sawkins was sent out to assist the plumbers.
Every day some of the men who had been `stood off' called at the yard to ask if any other `jobs' had `come in'.From these callers they heard all the news.Old Jack Linden had not succeeded in getting anything to do at the trade since he was discharged from Rushton's, and it was reported that he was trying to earn a little money by hawking bloaters from house to house.As for Philpot, he said that he had been round to nearly all the firms in the town and none of them had any work to speak of.
Newman - the man whom the reader will remember was sacked for taking too much pains with his work - had been arrested and sentenced to a month's imprisonment because he had not been able to pay his poor rates, and the Board of Guardians were allowing his wife three shillings a week to maintain herself and the three children.Philpot had been to see them, and she told him that the landlord was threatening to turn them into the street; he would have seized their furniture and sold it if it had been worth the expense of the doing.
`I feel ashamed of meself,' Philpot added in confidence to Owen, `when I think of all the money I chuck away on beer.If it wasn't for that, I shouldn't be in such a hole meself now, and I might be able to lend 'em a 'elpin' 'and.'
`It ain't so much that I likes the beer, you know,' he continued;`it's the company.When you ain't got no 'ome, in a manner o'
speakin', like me, the pub's about the only place where you can get a little enjoyment.But you ain't very welcome there unless you spends your money.'
`Is the three shillings all they have to live on?'
`I think she goes out charin' when she can get it,' replied Philpot, `but I don't see as she can do a great deal o' that with three young 'uns to look after, and from what I hear of it she's only just got over a illness and ain't fit to do much.'
`My God!' said Owen.
`I'll tell you what,' said Philpot.`I've been thinking we might get up a bit of a subscription for 'em.There's several chaps in work what knows Newman, and if they was each to give a trifle we could get enough to pay for a Christmas dinner, anyway.I've brought a sheet of foolscap with me, and I was goin' to ask you to write out the heading for me.'
As there was no pen available at the workshop, Philpot waited till four o'clock and then accompanied Owen home, where the heading of the list was written.Owen put his name down for a shilling and Philpot his for a similar amount.
Philpot stayed to tea and accepted an invitation to spend Christmas Day with them, and to come to Frankie's party on the Monday after.