elves'--she
measured off the tit-bits of wisdom with a slim forefinger--'not to say
anything against the press, and, if possible, remember to praise the
police.'

'Praise the police!' ejaculated the mauve matron.

'Sh!' said Ernestine, softly. But not so easily was the tide of
indignation stemmed.

'I saw with my own eyes----' began the woman.

'Yes, yes, but----' she lowered her voice, Borrodaile had to strain to
catch what she said, 'you see it's no use beating our heads against a
stone wall. A movement that means to be popular must have the police on
its side. After all, they do very well--considering.'

'Considering they're men?' demanded the matron.

'Anyhow,' Ernestine went on, 'even if they behaved ten times worse, it's
not a bit of good to antagonize the police or the press. If they aren't
our friends, we've got to make them our friends. They're both _much_
better than they were. They must be encouraged!' said the wise young
Daniel, with a little nod. Then as she saw or felt that the big matron
might elude her vigilance and break out into indiscretion, 'Why, we had
a reporter in from the _Morning Magnifier_ only to-day. He said, "The
public seems to have got tired of reading that you spit and scratch and
prod policemen with your hatpins. Now, do you mind saying what is it you
really do?" I told him to come here this afternoon. Now, when I've
opened the meeting, _you'll_ tell him!'

'Oh, _dear_!' the young woman patted her fringe, 'do you suppose we'll
be in the _Magnifier_ to-morrow? How dreadful!'

During this little interchange a procession of men streaming homeward in
their hundreds came walking down the Embankment in twos and threes or
singly, shambling past the loosely gathered assemblage about the bench.

The child on the riverward side still clutching its penny was
unceremoniously ousted. As soon as Ernestine had mounted the seat the
slackly held gathering showed signs of cohesion. The waiting units drew
closer. The dingy procession slowed--the workmen, looking up at the
young face with the fluttering sycamore shadows printed on its pink and
white, grinned or frowned, but many halted and listened. Through the
early part of the speech Miss Levering kept looking out of the corner of
her eye to see what effect it had on Borrodaile. But Borrodaile gave no
sign. Ernestine was trying to make it clear what a gain it would be,
especially to this class, if women had the vote. An uphill task to catch
and