in was like a demure cat among a company of splendid curly dogs.

The toasts, every one of them, called forth enthusiasm. Even in the
early part of the evening much good-nature had bubbled out when, at
intervals, a slim young bachelor of fifty, armed with a violent mallet,
had rapped authoritatively on the table and cried: "Mr President wishes
to take wine with Mr Vice," "Mr President wishes to take wine with the
bachelors on the right," "Mr President wishes to take wine with the
married Felons on the left," and so on till every sort and condition and
geographical situation had been thus distinguished. But the toasts
proper aroused displays of the most affectionate loving-kindness. Each
reference to a Felon was greeted with warm cheers, and each reference
touched the superlative of laudation. Every stroke of humour was
noisily approved, and every exhibition of tender feeling effusively
endorsed. And all the estates of the realm, and all the institutions of
the realm and of the town, and all the services of war and peace, and
all the official castes were handsomely and unreservedly praised, and
their health and prosperity pledged with enthusiastic fervour. The
organism of the Empire was pronounced to be essentially perfect. Nobody
of importance, from the Queen's Majesty to the `ministers of the
Established Church and other denominations,' was omitted from the
certificate of supreme excellence and efficiency. And even when an
alderman, proposing the toast of the `town and trade of Bursley,'
mentioned certain disturbing symptoms in the demeanour of the lower
classes, he immediately added his earnest conviction that the `heart of
the country beat true,' and was comforted with grave applause.

Towards the end of the toast-list one of the humorous vocal quartets
which were designed to relieve the seriousness of the programme, was
interrupted by the formidable sound of the governed proletariat beyond
the walls of the Town Hall. And Edwin's memory, making him feel very
old, leapt suddenly back into another generation of male glee-singers
that did not disport humorously and that would not have permitted
themselves to be interrupted by the shouting of populations; and he
recalled `Loud Ocean's Roar,' and the figure of Florence Simcox flitted
in front of him. The proletariat was cheering somebody. The cheers
died down. And in another moment the Conservative candidate burst into
the room, and was followed by two of his