The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists
'Four weeks. That's the three weeks you was out and this week.'
'Four sixes is twenty-four; that's one pound four,' said Easton, as he wrote it down. 'Next?'
'Grocer, twelve shillings.'
Easton looked up in astonishment.
'Twelve shillings. Why, didn't you tell me only the other day that you'd paid up all we owed for groceries?'
'Don't you remember we owed thirty-five shillings last spring? Well, I've been paying that bit by bit all the summer. I paid the last of it the week you finished your last job. Then you was out three weeks—up till last Saturday—and as we had nothing in hand I had to get what we wanted without paying for it.'
'But do you mean to say it costs us three shillings a week for tea and sugar and butter?'
'It's not only them. There's been bacon and eggs and cheese and other things.'
The man was beginning to become impatient.
'Well,' he said, 'what else?'
'We owe the baker eight shillings. We did owe nearly a pound, but I've been paying it off a little at a time.'
This was added to the list.
'Then there's the milkman. I've not paid him for four weeks. He hasn't sent a bill yet, but you can reckon it up; we have two penn'orth every day.'
'That's four and eight,' said Easton, writing it down. 'Anything else?'
'One and seven to the greengrocer for potatoes, cabbage, and paraffin oil.'
'Anything else?'
'We owe the butcher two and sevenpence.'
'Why, we haven't had any meat for a long time,' said Easton. 'When was it?'
'Three weeks ago; don't you remember? A small leg of mutton.'
'Oh, yes,' and he added the item.
'Then there's the instalments for the furniture and oilcloth—twelve shillings. A letter came from them to-day. And there's something else.'
She took three letters from the pocket of her dress and handed them to him.
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