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They all reviled Hunter； but most of them would have been glad to change places with him also： and if any one of them had been in his place they would have been compelled to do the same things； or lose the job。
They all hated and blamed Rushton。 Yet if they had been in Rushton's place they would have been compelled to adopt the same methods； or become bankrupt： for it is obvious that the only way to compete successfully against other employers who are sweaters is to be a sweater yourself。 Therefore no one who is an upholder of the present system can consistently blame any of these men。 Blame the system。
If you； reader； had been one of the hands； would you have slogged？ Or would you have preferred to starve and see your family starve？ If you had been in Crass's place； would you have resigned rather than do such dirty work？ If you had had Hunter's berth； would you have given it up and voluntarily reduced yourself to the level of the hands？ If you had been Rushton； would you rather have become bankrupt than treat your ‘hands' and your customers in the same way as your competitors treated theirs？ It may be that； so placed； you … being the noble…minded paragon that you are … would have behaved unselfishly。 But no one has any right to expect you to sacrifice yourself for the benefit of other people who would only call you a fool for your pains。 It may be true that if any one of the hands … Owen； for instance … had been an employer of labour； he would have done the same as other employers。 Some people seem to think that proves that the present system is all right！ But really it only proves that the present system compels selfishness。 One must either trample upon others or be trampled upon oneself。 Happiness might be possible if everyone were unselfish； if everyone thought of the welfare of his neighbour before thinking of his own。 But as there is only a very small percentage of such unselfish people in the world； the present system has made the earth into a sort of hell。 Under the present system there is not sufficient of anything for everyone to have enough。 Consequently there is a fight … called by Christians the ‘Battle of Life'。 In this fight some get more than they need； some barely enough； some very little； and some none at all。 The more aggressive； cunning； unfeeling and selfish you are the better it will be for you。 As long as this ‘Battle of Life' System endures； we have no right to blame other people for doing the same things that we are ourselves compelled to do。 Blame the system。
But that IS just what the hands did not do。 They blamed each other； they blamed Crass； and Hunter； and Rushton； but with the Great System of which they were all more or less the victims they were quite content； being persuaded that it was the only one possible and the best that human wisdom could devise。 The reason why they all believed this was because not one of them had ever troubled to inquire whether it would not be possible to order things differently。 They were content with the present system。 If they had not been content they would have been anxious to find some way to alter it。 But they had never taken the trouble to seriously inquire whether it was possible to find some better way； and although they all knew in a hazy fashion that other methods of managing the affairs of the world had already been proposed； they neglected to inquire whether these other methods were possible or practicable； and they were ready and willing to oppose with ignorant ridicule or brutal force any man who was foolish or quixotic enough to try to explain to them the details of what he thought was a better way。 They accepted the present system in the same way as they accepted the alternating seasons。 They knew that there was spring and summer and autumn and winter。 As to how these different seasons came to be； or what caused them； they hadn't the remotest notion； and it is extremely doubtful whether the question had ever occurred to any of them： but there is no doubt whatever about the fact that none of them knew。 From their infancy they had been trained to distrust their own intelligence； and to leave the management of the affairs of the world … and for that matter of the next world too … to their betters； and now most of them were absolutely incapable of thinking of any abstract subject whatever。 Nearly all their betters … that is； the people who do nothing … were unanimous in agreeing that he present system is a very good one and that it is impossible to alter or improve it。 Therefore Crass and his mates； although they knew nothing whatever about it themselves； accepted it as an established； incontrovertible fact that the existing state of things is immutable。 They believed it because someone else told them so。 They would have believed anything： on one condition … namely； that they were told to believe it by their betters。 They said it was surely not for the Like of Them to think that they knew better than those who were more educated and had plenty of time to study。
As the work in the drawing…room proceeded； Crass abandoned the hope that Owen was going to make a mess of it。 Some of the rooms upstairs being now ready for papering； Slyme was started on that work； Bert being taken away from Owen to assist Slyme as paste boy； and it was arranged that Crass should help Owen whenever he needed someone to lend him a hand。
Sweater came frequently during these four weeks； being interested in the progress of the work。 On these occasions Crass always managed to be present in the drawing…room and did most of the talking。 Owen was very satisfied with this arrangement； for he was always ill at ease when conversing with a man like Sweater； who spoke in an offensively patronizing way and expected common people to kowtow to and ‘Sir' him at every second word。 Crass however； seemed to enjoy doing that kind of thing。 He did not exactly grovel on the floor； when Sweater spoke to him； but he contrived to convey the impression that he was willing to do so if desired。
Outside the house Bundy and his mates had dug deep trenches in the damp ground in which they were laying new drains。 This work； like that of the painting of the inside of the house； was nearly completed。 It was a miserable job。 Owing to the fact that there had been a spell of bad weather the ground was sodden with rain and there was mud everywhere； the men's clothing and boots being caked with it。 But the worst thing about the job was the smell。 For years the old drain…pipes had been defective and leaky。 The ground a few feet below the surface was saturated with fetid moisture and a stench as of a thousand putrefying corpse emanated from the opened earth。 The clothing of the men who were working in the hendeca became saturated with this fearful odour； and for that matter； so did the men themselves。
They said they could smell and taste it all the time； even when they were away from the work at home； and when they were at meals。 Although they smoked their pipes all the time they were at work； Misery having ungraciously given them permission； several times Bundy and one or other of his mates were attacked with fits of vomiting。
But； as they began to realize that the finish of the job was in sight； a kind of panic seized upon the hands； especially those who had been taken on last and who would therefore be the first to be ‘stood still'。 Easton； however； felt pretty confident that Crass would do his best to get him kept on till the end of the job； for they had become quite chummy lately； usually spending a few evenings together at the Cricketers every week。
‘There'll be a bloody slaughter 'ere soon；' remarked Harlow to Philpot one day as they were painting the banisters of the staircase。 ‘I reckon next week will about finish the inside。'
‘And the outside ain't goin' to take very long； you know；' replied Philpot。
‘They ain't got no other work in； have they？'
‘Not that I knows of；' replied Philpot gloomily； 'and I don't think anyone else has either。'
‘You know that little place they call the 〃Kiosk〃 down the Grand Parade； near the bandstand；' asked Harlow after a pause。
‘Where they used to sell refreshments？'
‘Yes； it belongs to the Corporation； you know。'
‘It's been closed up lately； ain't it？'
‘Yes； the people who 'ad it couldn't make it pay； but I 'eard last night that Grinder the fruit…merchant is goin' to open it again。 If it's true； there'll be a bit of a job there for someone； because it'll 'ave to be done up。'
‘Well； I hope it does come orf replied Philpot。 ‘It'll be a job for some poor brs。'
‘I wonder if they've started anyone yet on the venetian blinds for this 'ouse？' remarked Easton after a pause。
‘I don't know；' replied Philpot。
They relapsed into silence for a while。
‘I wonder what time it is？' said Philpot at length。 ‘I don't know 'ow you feel； but I begin to want my dinner。'
‘That's just what I was thinking； it can't be very far off it now。 It's nearly 'arf an hour since Bert went down to make the tea。 It seems a 'ell of a long morning to me。'
‘So it does to me；' said Philpot； ‘slip upstairs and ask Slyme what time it is。'
Harlow laid his brush across the top of his paint…pot and went upstairs。