[The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell]@TWC D-Link book
The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists

CHAPTER 6
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Most of them fancied they were ladies, and if they had only had the sense to keep their mouths shut, other people might possibly have shared the same delusion.
But this was now a rare occurrence, because the parents of the other children found it a matter of considerable difficulty to prevent their youngsters from associating with those of inferior rank, for when left to themselves the children disregarded all such distinctions.
Frequently in that street was to be seen the appalling spectacle of the ten-year-old son of the refined and fashionable Trafaim dragging along a cart constructed of a sugar box and an old pair of perambulator wheels with no tyres, in which reposed the plebeian Frankie Owen, armed with a whip, and the dowdy daughter of a barber's clerk: while the nine-year-old heir of the coal merchant rushed up behind...
Owen's wife and little son were waiting for him in the living room.
This room was about twelve feet square and the ceiling--which was low and irregularly shaped, showing in places the formation of the roof--had been decorated by Owen with painted ornaments.
There were three or four chairs, and an oblong table, covered with a clean white tablecloth, set ready for tea.

In the recess at the right of fireplace--an ordinary open grate--were a number of shelves filled with a miscellaneous collection of books, most of which had been bought second-hand.
There were also a number of new books, mostly cheap editions in paper covers.
Over the back of a chair at one side of the fire, was hanging an old suit of Owen's, and some underclothing, which his wife had placed there to air, knowing that he would be wet through by the time he arrived home...
The woman was half-sitting, half lying, on a couch by the other side of the fire.

She was very thin, and her pale face bore the traces of much physical and mental suffering.

She was sewing, a task which her reclining position rendered somewhat difficult.

Although she was really only twenty-eight years of age, she appeared older.
The boy, who was sitting on the hearthrug playing with some toys, bore a strong resemblance to his mother.


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