|Title||The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists|
As no one seemed desirous of availing himself of this offer, the man returned the bottle regretfully to his pocket.
`I suppose,' said Misery, regarding the owner of the strychnine with a sneer, `I suppose you're one of them there hired critics wot's goin' about the country doin' the Devil's work?'
`Wot I wants to know is this 'ere,' said the Semi-drunk, suddenly advancing into the middle of the ring and speaking in a loud voice. `Where did Cain get 'is wife from?'
`Don't answer 'im, Brother 'Unter,' said Mr Didlum, one of the disciples. This was rather an unnecessary piece of advice, because Misery did not know the answer.
An individual in a long black garment - the `minister' - now whispered something to Miss Didlum, who was seated at the organ, whereupon she began to play, and the