who want to see
women free, hold up your hands.'

A strange, orchid-like growth sprang up in the air. Hands gloved and
ungloved, hands of many shades and sizes, hands grimy and hands ringed.

Something curious to the unaccustomed eye, these curling, clutching,
digitated members raised above their usual range and common avocations,
suddenly endowed with speech, and holding forth there in the silent
upper air for the whole human economy.

'Now, down.' The pallid growth vanished. 'Those against the freedom of
women.' Again hands, hands. Far too many to suit the promoters of the
meeting. But Miss Claxton announced, 'The ayes are in the majority. The
meeting is with us.'

'She can't even count!' The air was full of the taunting phrase--'Can't
count!'

'Yes,' said Miss Claxton, wheeling round again upon the people, as some
of her companions began to get down out of the cart. 'Yes, she can
count, and she can see when men don't play fair. Each one in that group
held up _two_ hands when the last vote was taken.' She made a great deal
of this incident, and elevated it into a principle. 'It is entirely
characteristic of the means men will stoop to use in opposing the
Women's Cause.'

To hoots and groans and laughter the tam-o'-shanter disappeared.

'Rank Socialists every one of 'em!' was one of the verdicts that flew
about.

'They ought _all_ to be locked up.'

'A danger to the public peace.'

A man circulating about on the edge of the crowd was calling out,
''Andsome souvenir. Scented paper 'andkerchief! With full programme of
Great Suffragette Meeting in 'Yde Park!'

As the crowd thinned, some of the roughs pressing forward were trying to
'rush' the speakers. The police hastened to the rescue. It looked as if
there would be trouble. Vida and her maid escaped towards the Marble
Arch.

''Andsome scented 'andkerchief! Suffragette Programme!' The raucous
voice followed them, and not the voice alone. Through the air was wafted
the cheap and stifling scent of patchouli.

CHAPTER X

Jean Dunbarton received Mr. Geoffrey Stonor upon his entrance into Mrs.
Freddy's drawing-room with a charming little air of fluttered
responsibility.

'Mrs. Freddy and I have been lunching with the Whyteleafes. She had to
go afterwards to say good-bye to some people who are leaving for abroad.
So Mrs. Freddy asked me to turn over my Girls' Club to your cousin
Sophia----'

'Are you given to good works, too?' he interrupted. 'Wh