s the
Drury Lane stage suddenly offered him to present it on. It would be
folly to deny himself the luxury, though the presence of Mr. Gladstone
and the nature of the ceremony should perhaps have given him pause. Yet,
on the other hand, these were the very factors of the temptation. Wimp
went in and took a seat behind Denzil. All the seats were numbered, so
that everybody might have the satisfaction of occupying somebody else's.
Denzil was in the special reserved places in the front row just by the
central gangway; Crowl was squeezed into a corner behind a pillar near
the back of the hall. Grodman had been honored with a seat on the
platform, which was accessible by steps on the right and left, but he
kept his eye on Denzil. The picture of the poor idealist hung on the
wall behind Grodman's head, covered by its curtain of brown holland.
There was a subdued buzz of excitement about the hall, which swelled
into cheers every now and again as some gentleman known to fame or Bow
took his place upon the platform. It was occupied by several local M.
P.'s of varying politics, a number of other Parliamentary satellites of
the great man, three or four labor leaders, a peer or two of
philanthropic pretensions, a sprinkling of Toynbee and Oxford Hall men,
the president and other honorary officials, some of the family and
friends of the deceased, together with the inevitable percentage of
persons who had no claim to be there save cheek. Gladstone was
late--later than Mortlake, who was cheered to the echo when he arrived,
someone starting "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow," as if it were a
political meeting. Gladstone came in just in time to acknowledge the
compliment. The noise of the song, trolled out from iron lungs, had
drowned the huzzahs heralding the old man's advent. The convivial chorus
went to Mortlake's head, as if champagne had really preceded it. His
eyes grew moist and dim. He saw himself swimming to the Millenium on
waves of enthusiasm. Ah, how his brother-toilers should be rewarded for
their trust in him!

With his usual courtesy and consideration, Mr. Gladstone had refused to
perform the actual unveiling of Arthur Constant's portrait. "That," he
said in his postcard, "will fall most appropriately to Mr. Mortlake, a
gentleman who has, I am given to understand, enjoyed the personal
friendship of the late Mr. Constant, and has co-operated with him in
various schemes for the organization of skilled and unskilled classes of