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Updated: June 19, 2025
Men and women were beginning to sing at their work again, for as one result of the day John spent with Harlow, his lordship had opened a plain, good, and very cheap furniture store, where the workers in cotton factories could renew on easy installments the furniture they had sold for a mouthful of bread.
'I suppose you think the landlords ought to let people live in their 'ouses for nothing? said Crass, breaking the silence that followed. 'Certainly, remarked Harlow, pretending to be suddenly converted to Owen's views, 'I reckon the landlord ought to pay the rent to the tenant! 'Of course, Landlordism is not the only cause, said Owen, ignoring these remarks.
'Wot do yer mean by animals? demanded Slyme. 'A human bean ain't a animal! said Crass indignantly. 'Yes, we are! cried Harlow. 'Go into any chemist's shop you like and ask the bloke, and 'e'll tell you 'Oh, blow that! interrupted Philpot. 'Let's 'ear wot Owen's sayin'.
But though there were plenty of younger men more suitable for this, Philpot did not care to complain for fear Crass or Misery should think he was not up to his work. At dinner time all the old hands assembled in the kitchen, including Crass, Easton, Harlow, Bundy and Dick Wantley, who still sat on a pail behind his usual moat.
The last reminded Harlow of a song he knew nearly all the words of, 'Take the news to Mother', the singing of which was much appreciated by all present and when it was finished they sang it all over again, Philpot being so affected that he actually shed tears; and Easton confided to Owen that there was no getting away from the fact that a boy's best friend is his mother.
To take possession of her splendid home, to assume the social distinction it gave her, and to be near to the mother she idolized were three great compensations, superseding abundantly the doubtful pleasures of railway travel and sightseeing. Jane's mother had caused a pleasant surprise at her daughter's wedding, for the past year's efforts at Harlow House had amply proved Mrs.
And then one of them got a piece of paper and wrote a note to be given to Harlow at the first opportunity. This note was properly worded, written in a manner suitable for a gentleman like him, neatly folded and addressed: Mr Harlow Esq., c/o Macaroni's Royal Cafe till called for.
When this hymn was finished, someone else, imitating the whine of a street-singer, started, 'Oh, where is my wandering boy tonight? and then Harlow who by some strange chance had a penny took it out of his pocket and dropped it on the floor, the ringing of the coin being greeted with shouts of 'Thank you, kind lady, from several of the singers.
'Yes, it do seem a 'ell of a long week, don't it? remarked Harlow as he hung his overcoat on a nail and proceeded to put on his apron and blouse. 'I've 'ad bloody near enough of it already. 'Wish to Christ it was breakfast-time, growled the more easily satisfied Easton. Extraordinary as it may appear, none of them took any pride in their work: they did not 'love' it.
"Thank God they are alive," exclaimed Mr Harlow, instantly mixing a little brandy-and-water and pouring it on their lips. Nancy was at once able to swallow a few drops so could Bill after a little time. Mr Harlow had with forethought put some oranges in his pocket. A few drops helped little Mary to revive.
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