|Title||The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists|
|Chapter||The Brigands hold a Council of War|
It being now what is usually called the festive season - possibly because at this period of the year a greater number of people are suffering from hunger and cold than at any other time - the reader will not be surprised at being invited to another little party which took place on the day after the one we have just left. The scene was Mr Sweater's office. Mr Sweater was seated at his desk, but with his chair swung round to enable him to face his guests - Messrs Rushton, Didlum, and Grinder, who were also seated.
`Something will 'ave to be done, and that very soon,' Grinder was saying. `We can't go on much longer as we're doing at present. For my part, I think the best thing to do is to chuck up the sponge at once; the company is practically bankrupt now, and the longer we waits the worser it will be.'
`That's just my opinion,' said Didlum dejectedly. `If we could supply the electric light at the same price as gas, or a little