`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, as he rubbed the place with a dry part of the rag.`The smell of the turps will go away in about a hour's time.'

`Thanks,' said Sweater.

Philpot looked at him wistfully, but Sweater evidently did not understand, and began looking about the room.

`I see they've put a new piece of skirting here,' he observed.

`Yes, sir,' said Newman, who came into the room just then to get the turps.`The old piece was all to bits with dry-rot.'

`I feel as if I 'ad a touch of the dry-rot meself, don't you?' said Philpot to Newman, who smiled feebly and cast a sidelong glance at Sweater, who did not appear to notice the significance of the remark, but walked out of the room and began climbing up to the next floor, where Harlow and Sawkins were working.

`Well, there's a bleeder for yer!' said Philpot with indignation.

`After all the trouble I took to clean 'is coat! Not a bloody stiver!

Well, it takes the cake, don't it?'

`I told you 'ow it would be, didn't I?' replied Newman.

`P'raps I didn't make it plain enough,' said Philpot, thoughtfully.

`We must try to get some of our own back somehow, you know.'

Going out on the landing he called softly upstairs.

`I say, Harlow.'

`Hallo,' said that individual, looking over the banisters.

`'Ow are yer getting on up there?'

`Oh, all right, you know.'

`Pretty dry job, ain't it?' Philpot continued, raising his voice a little and winking at Harlow.

`Yes, it is, rather,' replied Harlow with a grin.

`I think this would be a very good time to take up the collection, don't you?'

`Yes, it wouldn't be a bad idear.'

`Well, I'll put me cap on the stairs,' said Philpot, suiting the action to the word.`You never knows yer luck.Things is gettin' a bit serious on this floor, you know; my mate's fainted away once already!'

Philpot now went back to his room to await developments: but as Sweater made no sign, he returned to the landing and again hailed Harlow.

`I always reckon a man can work all the better after 'e's 'ad a drink:

you can seem to get over more of it, like.'

`Oh, that's true enough,' responded Harlow.`I've often noticed it meself.'

Sweater came out of the front bedroom and passed into one of the back rooms without any notice of either of the men.

`I'm afraid it's a frost, mate,' Harlow whispered, and Philpot, shaking his head sadly, returned to work; but in a little while he came out again and once more accosted Harlow.

`I knowed a case once,' he said in a melancholy tone, `where a chap died - of thirst - on a job just like this; and at the inquest the doctor said as 'arf a pint would 'a saved 'im!'

`It must 'ave been a norrible death,' remarked Harlow.

`'Orrible ain't the work for it, mate,' replied Philpot, mournfully.

`It was something chronic!'

After this final heartrending appeal to Sweater's humanity they returned to work, satisfied that, whatever the result of their efforts, they had done their best.They had placed the matter fully and fairly before him: nothing more could be said: the issue now rested entirely with him.

But it was all in vain.Sweater either did not or would not understand, and when he came downstairs he took no notice whatever of the cap which Philpot had placed so conspicuously in the centre of the landing floor.