|Title||The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists|
`We must tackle 'im about that at dinner-time,' said Harlow. `I should rather like to 'ear 'ow 'e makes it out.'
`For Gord's sake don't go startin' no arguments at dinner-time,' said Easton. `Leave 'im alone when 'e is quiet.'
`Yes; let's 'ave our dinner in peace, if possible,' said Philpot. `Sh!!' he added, hoarsely, suddenly holding up his hand warningly. They listened intently. It was evident from the creaking of the stairs that someone was crawling up them. Philpot instantly disappeared. Harlow lifted up the pail of whitewash and set it down again noisily.
`I think we'd better 'ave the steps and the plank over this side, Easton,' he said in a loud voice.
`Yes. I think that'll be the best way,' replied Easton.
While they were arranging their scaffold to do the ceiling