| Title | The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists |
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| Page | 203 |
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| Chapter | -- |
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| Text |
Idlers?' asked Frankie, dejectedly. `Hark!' said his mother, holding up her finger. `Dad!' cried Frankie, rushing to the door and flinging it open. He ran along the passage and opened the staircase door before Owen reached the top of the last flight of stairs. `Why ever do you come up at such a rate,' reproachfully exclaimed Owen's wife as he came into the room exhausted from the climb upstairs and sank panting into the nearest chair. `I al-ways-for-get,' he replied, when he had in some degree recovered. As he lay back in the chair, his face haggard and of a ghastly whiteness, and with the water dripping from his saturated clothing, Owen presented a terrible appearance. Frankie noticed with childish terror the extreme alarm with which his mother looked |
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