ack in Birmingham, thanks to
the convenience of a new line lately opened, in time for the second
meeting of the congress, which was fixed for the early afternoon.

He spoke with great cordiality and persuasiveness. Among the men who
surrounded him, his youth, good looks, and easy breeding shone out
conspicuous. In the opinion of Wilkins, indeed, who followed his every
word and gesture, he was far too well dressed and too well educated. A
day would soon come when the labour movement would be able to show these
young aristocrats the door. Not yet, however.

"Well, I thowt you wouldn't dine with us," he said, turning away with a
blunt laugh.

Bennett's mild eye showed annoyance. "Mr. Wharton has explained himself
very fully, I think," he said, turning to the others. "We shall miss him
at dinner--but this matter seems to be one of life and death. And we
mustn't forget anyway that Mr. Wharton is fulfilling this engagement at
great inconvenience to himself. We none of us knew when we elected him
last year that he would have to be fighting his election at the same
time. Next Saturday, isn't it?"

Bennett rose as he spoke and carefully buttoned his coat. It was curious
to contrast his position among his fellows--one of marked ascendency and
authority--with his small insignificant physique. He had a gentle
deprecating eye, and the heart of a poet. He played the flute and
possessed the gift of repeating verse--especially Ebenezer Eliot's Corn
Law Rhymes--so as to stir a great audience to enthusiasm or tears. The
Wesleyan community of his native Cheshire village owned no more
successful class-leader, and no humbler Christian. At the same time he
could hold a large business meeting sternly in check, was the secretary
of one of the largest and oldest Unions in the country, had been in
Parliament for years, and was generally looked upon even by the men who
hated his "moderate" policy, as a power not to be ignored.

"Next Saturday. Yes!" said Wharton, nodding in answer to his inquiry.

"Well, are you going to do it?" said Casey, looking round at him.

"Oh, yes!" said Wharton, cheerfully; "oh, yes! we shall do it. We shall
settle old Dodgson, I think."

"Are the Raeburns as strong as they were?" asked Molloy, who knew
Brookshire.

"What landlord is? Since '84 the ground is mined for them all--good and
bad--and they know it."

"The mine takes a long time blowing up--too long for my patience," said
Wilkins, gruffly. "How the