for a good while. You must be needin' a cup o'
tea yerself.'
'In India I'm told they burn the widows. In England they do worse than
that. They keep them _half_ alive.'
The crowd rose to that, with the pinched proof before their eyes.
'Just enough alive to suffer through their children. And so the workin'
women round about where I live--that's 'Ackney--they say if we ain't
'eathins in this country let's give up 'eathin ways. Let the mothers o'
this country 'ave their 'ands untied. We're willin' to work for our
children, but it breaks our 'earts to work without tools. The tool we're
needin' is the tool that mends the laws. I 'ave pleasure in secondin'
the resolution.'
With nervously twitching lips the woman sat down. They cheered her
lustily--a little out of sympathy, a good deal from relief that she had
finished, and a very different sort of person was being introduced by
the chairman.
CHAPTER IX
'I will now call upon the last speaker. Yes, I will answer any general
questions _after_ Miss Ernestine Blunt has spoken.'
'Oh, I sy!'
''Ere's Miss Blunt.'
'Not that little one?'
'Yes. This is the one I was tellin' you about.'
People pushed and craned their necks, the crowd swayed as the other one
of the two youngest 'Suffragettes' came forward. She had been sitting
very quietly in her corner of the cart, looking the least concerned
person in Hyde Park. Almost dull the round rather pouting face with the
vivid scarlet lips; almost sleepy the heavy-lidded eyes. But when she
had taken the speaker's post above the crowd, the onlooker wondered why
he had not noticed her before.
It seemed probable that all save those quite new to the scene had been
keeping an eye on this person, who, despite her childish look, was
plainly no new recruit. Her self-possession demonstrated that as
abundantly as the reception she got--the vigorous hoots and hoorays in
the midst of clapping and cries--
'Does your mother know you're out?'
'Go 'ome and darn your stockens.'
'Hurrah!'
'You're a disgryce!'
'I bet on little Blunt!'
'Boo!'
Even in that portion of the crowd that did not relieve its feelings by
either talking or shouting, there was observable the indefinable
something that says, 'Now the real fun's going to begin.' You see the
same sort of manifestation in the playhouse when the favourite comedian
makes his entrance. He may have come on quite soberly only to say, 'Tea
is ready,' but the grin on
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