| Title | The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists |
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| Page | 370 |
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| Chapter | -- |
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| Text |
upon the floor to such an extent that he was by this time partly surrounded by a kind of semicircular moat of dark brown spittle. `I'm a Bush Baptist!' he shouted across the moat, `and you all knows wot that is.' This confession of faith caused a fresh outburst of hilarity, because of course everyone knew what a Bush Baptist was. `If 'evven's goin' to be full of sich b--r's as Hunter,' observed Eaton, `I think I'd rather go to the other place.' `If ever ole Misery DOES get into 'eaven,' said Philpot, `'e won't stop there very long. I reckon 'e'll be chucked out of it before 'e's been there a week, because 'e's sure to start pinchin' the jewels out of the other saints' crowns.' `Well, if they won't 'ave 'im in 'eaven, |
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