Back Hurry on Down Save as PDF
Chapters (14)
  1. Introduction by Nick Bentley
  2. HURRY ON DOWN
  3. I
  4. II
  5. III
  6. IV
  7. V
  8. VI
  9. VII
  10. VIII
  11. IX
  12. X
  13. About the Author
  14. About the Cover

Not, perhaps, entirely his own, he reflected with a sudden flicker of hard canniness, until he had paid back the five pounds. But he would very soon be able to do that. He had borrowed it from an uncle who was a solicitor; ironically, he had found it very easy to get the loan, by pretending that he needed it to settle some gambling debts left over from his student days. If he had told the old fool what he really needed the money for—this pail, ladder and handcart, these rags and overalls—he would never have unbuttoned his pockets in a thousand years. But ‘a few pounds lost to his friends at the cards!’ That was a different matter. His uncle always said ‘the cards’, instead of simply ‘cards’, thus showing that he approved of the pastime; he had even used the expression ‘Debts of honour’! Charles had hardly been able to repress a sneer as he took the five pounds. Already his new job, though he had not yet earned a farthing at it, gave him the feeling of being miles above the world of small snobberies and appear­ances, as represented by his uncle. Still, the old ass had behaved decently, according to his standards, and he should have his money back. Charles went to the back door of the house and was handed his money: seven and sixpence. It had taken him about half-an-hour to earn it. Left to himself, he would never have asked for so much, but he had taken the precaution of finding out the usual rates of pay.

Even there, the directness characteristic of his new situation had made itself felt. In the ‘old days’—up to a week ago, in fact—to what evasions, what roundabout routes would he not have been driven, in his efforts to get this piece of information! How he would have circled and hinted, asking half his question here, the other half there, driven into wilder and wilder lying, until the situation became finally impossible! But now, he had merely gone straight to the Warden of the Y.M.C.A. hostel where he was staying, and asked him directly what he usually had to pay to have the windows of the place cleaned. And equally directly the old man had replied, ‘It works out at about sixpence a window.’ Very well! Sixpence a window it should be.