come to hear," she says, "it's just that a woman making
a speech is so much more interesting than a man making a speech." It
surprises you? So it did me.'

'Nothing surprises me!' said Borrodaile, with a wave of his long hands.

'Last night she was wonderful, our Ernestine! Even I, who am used to
her, I was stirred. I was even thrilled. She had that crowd in the
hollow of her hand! When she wound up, "The motion is carried. The
meeting is over!" and climbed down off her perch, the mob cheered and
pressed round her so close that I had to give up trying to join her. I
extricated myself and crossed the street. She is so little that, unless
she's on a chair, she is swallowed up. For a long time I couldn't see
her. I didn't know whether she was taking the names and addresses of the
people who want to join the Union, or whether she had slipped away and
gone home, till I saw practically the whole crowd moving off after her
up the street. I followed for some distance on the off-side. She went
calmly on her way, a tiny figure in a long grey coat between two
helpers, the Lancashire cotton-spinner and the Cockney working woman,
with that immense tail of boys and men (and a few women) all following
after--quite quiet and well-behaved--just following, because it didn't
occur to them to do anything else. In a way she was still exercising her
hold over her meeting. I saw, presently, there was one person in front
of her--a great big fellow--he looked like a carter--he was carrying
home the chair!'

They both laughed.

'Well, she's found a thick-and-thin advocate in you apparently,' said
Borrodaile.

'Ah! if only you could _see_ her! trudging along, apparently quite
oblivious of her quaint following, dinner bell in one hand, leather case
piled high with "tracts" on the other arm, some of the leaflets sliding
off, tumbling on to the pavement.' Vida laughed as she recalled the
scene. 'Then dozens of hands darting out to help her to recover her
precious property! After the chair had been returned the crowd thinned,
and I crossed over to her.'

'You in that _melee_!' Borrodaile ejaculated. 'Well, Ernestine hadn't
the quaintness all to herself.'

'No. Oh, no,' Vida agreed. 'I thought of you, and how you'd look if you
had come on us suddenly. After the crowd had melted and the helpers had
vanished into the night, we went on together--all the way, from the
Battersea Fire Station to Sloane Square, did Ernestine and I walk,
talking ref