gled and fomented all morning,
but it is too late. I couldn't scream to save my life. It's a
terrible, terrible disappointment, but I am thankful that I need not
upset the Committee's plans. You shall take my place!"

"I?" cried Norah shrilly. "No, no--I can't! I couldn't--I wouldn't--
not for anything in the whole wide world! Call out before a whole
meeting, have them all staring at me, strange men catching hold of me,
dragging my sleeves, crushing my hat--_never_! I'd sooner die!"

"Then," croaked Miss Mellor hoarsely, "I shall go myself!" And from
this point she refused to budge. She was ill; in the natural course of
events she would grow worse; if she went out into the damp and the cold,
and endured the excitement of a crowded political meeting, she would
most certainly be very ill indeed; but she had promised; she could not
disappoint the Committee at the eleventh hour; she had no energy to seek
further for a substitute. Then her voice took a pathetic turn, and she
sighed feebly.

"I have been kind to you, Norah. I have tried to be your friend.
Danvers (the maid) would accompany you to the Hall. You have nothing to
do but to sit still and interrupt when your turn arrives. How can you
be so selfish and unkind?"

As time went on and argument and appeal alike failed to move Miss Mellor
from her position, a paralysis of helplessness seized Norah in its grip.
She knew that in the end she would be compelled to consent, for of two
horrifying alternatives it seemed the least to dare a certain amount of
buffeting for herself, rather than allow another woman to run the risk
of serious, even fatal, consequences. At nine o'clock that evening,
then, behold a trembling and faint-hearted Number Nine seated at the end
of one of the rows of stalls at the Albert Hall, the faithful Danvers by
her side, listening with all her ears, not to the eloquence of the
Chancellor of the Exchequer, but to the shrill interruptions from
feminine tongues which punctuated his utterances. Numbers One and Two
had been escorted from the gallery by indulgent, if somewhat
contemptuous, stewards. Numbers Pour and Five had received less
consideration; Number Six had been undeniably hustled; Number Seven had
squealed aloud. Norah realised with a dread sinking of the heart that
the temper of the meeting was rising, and that each fresh disturber of
the peace would receive less consideration. Only one more, and then...
The great building