The result was worse than Sawkins! He messed and fooled about for some time, but could not make it come right.

At last he gave it up.
'I suppose it'll have to have two coats after all,' he said, mournfully.

'But it's a thousand pities.' He almost wept.
The firm would be ruined if things went on like this.
'You'd better go on with it,' he said as he laid down the brush.
He began to walk about the house again.

He wanted to go away now, but he did not want them to know that he was gone, so he sneaked out of the back door, crept around the house and out of the gate, mounted his bicycle and rode away.
No one saw him go.
For some time the only sounds that broke the silence were the noises made by the hands as they worked.

The musical ringing of Bundy's trowel, the noise of the carpenters' hammers and saws and the occasional moving of a pair of steps.
No one dared to speak.
At last Philpot could stand it no longer.