| Title | The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists |
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| Page | 293 |
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| Chapter | -- |
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| Text |
Owen's heart seemed to stop beating. All the petty annoyances he had endured from Hunter rushed into his memory, together with what Easton had told him that morning. He stood, still and speechless, holding his apron in his hand and staring at the manager. `What for?' he ejaculated at length. `What's the matter?' `You'll find out what you're wanted for when you get there,' returned Hunter as he went out of the room and away from the house. When he was gone a dead silence prevailed. The hands ceased their preparations for departure and looked at each other and at Owen in astonishment. To stand a man off like that - when the job was not half finished - and for no apparent reason: and of a Monday, too. It was unheard of. There was a general chorus of indignation. Harlow and Philpot especially were very wroth. `If it comes to that,' Harlow shouted, |
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