unable to overcome. Into the shock of
it she went, with "nothing to complain of," forgetful of self, forgetful
of all but her blind unreasoning determination to gain her end. Her
passive yet battling form was borne away from him in the huge eddies of
the crowd.

"Hot work!" said a voice at his side; a little man, with keen, appetized
face, ferreting this way and that, was hurriedly taking notes as though
his life depended on it. The King looked at him in surprise, and
wondered what it meant.

"Got any news?" inquired the man, still scribbling at his notebook.

"What kind of news?"

"I'm not particular; anything suits me. I'm the Press."

"The Press?"

"Yes, reporter." And, as one proud of his great connection, he named the
King's favorite journal.

Never it is to be hoped to his dying day did that poor penny-a-liner
know what a piece of news he allowed in that moment to slip by--news
which to him would have meant almost a fortune; and here he was actually
rubbing shoulders with it; and making no profit.

"How many arrested?" he inquired.

"I don't know."

"Any of the leaders yet?"

"I have not heard."

Unprofitable company; the man moved away. They were separated by a
fresh movement of the crowd.

A royal mail-van drove through the square, the police with difficulty
making way for it. And the crowd, mistaking it for something else,
rushed off to gaze and cheer excitedly at the prisoners within. The
postman who sat mounting guard over the netted window at the rear smiled
wittily at the popular error which made him for a few brief moments so
conspicuous a figure. No doubt the incident gave the newspaper-man some
copy, and the van, having contributed its share to the general
amusement, rolled on its way.

Again the crowd made a rush; on the other side of the square a woman had
managed to get arrested, and a strong body of constables was escorting
her across to the police-station. Captors and captive walked quickly,
anxious to get the thing through. The woman had a scared yet triumphant
look in her eyes: she had succeeded in making the police do what they
did not want to do; and now for a fortnight, or a month, or for two
months--according to what these men might swear to, or the magistrate
think--she and a few score of others would find in a criminal cell that
temporary goal at which they had aimed; and the press would quiet the
public conscience by saying that they had done it "for notoriety."

Alway