ughed, and they, too, for the
most part, went on.

An Eton boy, who looked as if he might be her grandson, came by with a
white-haired lady of distinguished aspect, who held up her voluminous
silken skirts and stared silently at the legend.

'Do you see what it says?' the Eton boy laughed as he looked back. '"_We
demand the vote._" Fancy! They "demand" it. What awful cheek!' and he
laughed again at the fatuity of the female creature.

Vida glanced at the dignified old dame as though with an uneasy new
sense of the incongruity in the attitude of those two quite commonplace,
everyday members of a world that was her world, and that yet could for a
moment look quite strange.

She turned and glanced back at the ridiculous cart as if summoning the
invisible presence of Mrs. Chisholm to moderate the insolence of the
budding male. Still there was no sign either of Mrs. Chisholm or any of
her fellow-conspirators against the old order of the world. Miss
Levering stood a moment hesitating.

'I believe I'm a little tired,' she said to the discreet maid. 'We'll
rest here a moment,' and she sat down with her back to the crowd.

A woman, apparently of the small shopkeeping class, was already
established at one end of the only bench anywhere near the cart. Her
child who was playing about, was neatly dressed, and to Vida's surprise
wore sandals on her stockingless feet. This fashion for children, which
had been growing for years among the upper classes, had found little
imitation among tradesmen or working people. They presumably were still
too near the difficulty of keeping their children in shoes and
stockings, to be able to see anything but a confession of failure in
going without. In the same way, the 'Simple Life,' when led by the rich,
wears to the poverty-struck an aspect of masked meanness--a matter far
less tolerable in the eyes of the pauper than the traditional splendour
of extravagance in the upper class, an extravagance that feeds more than
the famished stomach with the crumbs that it lets fall.

As Miss Levering sat watching the child, and wondering a little at the
sandals, the woman caught her eye.

'Could you please tell me the time?' she asked.

Miss Levering took out her watch, and then spoke of the wisdom of that
plan of sandals.

The woman answered with such self-possession and good sense, that the
lady sent a half-amused glance over her shoulder as if relishing in
advance the sturdy disapproval of this h