| Title | The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists |
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| Page | 268 |
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| Chapter | -- |
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| Text |
`Yes, sir, we've made a start on it,' replied Philpot, affably. `Is this door wet?' asked Sweater, glancing apprehensively at the sleeve of his coat. `Yes, sir,' answered Philpot, and added, as he looked meaningly at the great man, `the paint is wet, sir, but the PAINTERS is dry.' `Confound it!' exclaimed Sweater, ignoring, or not hearing the latter part of Philpot's reply. `I've got some of the beastly stuff on my coat sleeve.' `Oh, that's nothing, sir,' cried Philpot, secretly delighted. `I'll get that orf for yer in no time. You wait just 'arf a mo!' He had a piece of clean rag in his tool bag, and there was a can of turps in the room. Moistening the rag slightly with turps he carefully removed the paint from Sweater's sleeve. `It's all orf not, sir,' he remarked, |
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