"It's all raight, lads," roared Harry, in a voice of thunder. "Three
cheers for Missus Glaire!"
The cheers were given lustily, in spite of Sim Slee, who, mounting on a
pile of old metal, began to wave his hands in protestation.
"Stop, stop!" he cried; "it isn't all raight yet. I want to know
whether we are to have our rights as British wuckmen, and our just and
righteous demands 'corded to us. What I want to know is--"
"Stop a moment, Simeon Slee," said Mrs Glaire, quickly; and a dead
silence fell on the crowd, as her clear, sharp voice was heard. "When I
was young, I was taught to look a home first. Now, tell me this--before
you began to put matters straight for others, did you make things right
at home?"
There was a laugh ran through the crowd at this; but shaken, not
daunted, the orator exclaimed--
"Oh, come, that wean't do for me, Mrs Glaire, ma'am--that's begging of
the question. What I want to know is--"
"And what I want to know is," cried Mrs Glaire, interrupting, "whether,
before you came out here leading these men into mischief, you provided
your poor wife with a dinner?"
"Hear, hear,"--"That's a good one,"--"Come down, Sim,"--"The Missus is
too much for ye!" were amongst the shouts that arose on all sides,
mingled with roars of laughter; and Sim Slee's defeat was completed by
Harry, the big hammerman, who, incited thereto by Banks, shouted--
"Three more cheers for the Missus!" These were given, and three more,
and three more after that, the workmen forgetting for the time being the
object they had in view in the defeat of Simeon Slee, who, vainly trying
to make himself heard from the hill of old metal, was finally pulled
down and lost in the crowd, while now, in a trembling voice, Mrs Glaire
said--
"My men, I can't tell you how sorry I am to find you fighting against
the people who supply you with the work by which you live."
"Not again you, Missus," cried half a dozen.
"Yes, against me and my son--the son of your old master," said Mrs
Glaire, gathering strength as she proceeded.
"You come back agen, and take the wucks, Missus," roared Harry. "Things
was all raight then."
"Well said, Harry; well said," cried Tom Podmore, bringing his hand down
on the hammerman's shoulder with a tremendous slap. "Well said.
Hooray!"
There was a tremendous burst of cheering, and it was some little time
before Mrs Glaire could again make herself heard.
"I cannot do that," she said, "but I will talk matters over with my son,
and you shall have fair play, if you will give us fair play in return."
"That's all very well," cried a shrill voice; and Sim Slee and his red
waistcoat were once more seen above the heads of the crowd, for, put out
of the gates, he had managed to mount the wall; "but what we want to
know, as an independent body of sittizens, is--"
"Will some on yo' get shoot of that chap, an' let Missus speak," cried
Tom Podmore.
There was a bit of a rush, and Sim Slee disappeared suddenly, as if he
had been pulled down by the legs.
"I don't think I need say any more," said Mrs Glaire, "only to ask you
all to come quietly back to work, and I promise you, in my son's name--"
"No, no, in yours," cried a dozen.
"Well," said Mrs Glaire, "in my own and your dead master's name--that
you shall all have justice."
"That's all raight, Missus," cried Harry. "Three more cheers for the
Missus, lads!"
"Stop!" cried Mrs Glaire, waving her hands for silence. "Before we go,
I think we should one and all thank our new friend here--our new
clergyman, for putting a stop to a scene that you as well as I would
have regretted to the end of our days."
Mrs Glaire had got to the end of her powers here, for the mother
stepped in as she conjured up the trampled, bleeding form of her only
son; her face began to work, the tears streamed down her cheeks, and,
trembling and sobbing, she laid both her hands in those of Mr Selwood,
and turned away.
"Raight, Missus," roared Harry, who had certainly partaken of more gills
of ale than was good for him. "Raight, Missus. Parson hits harder nor
any man I ever knowed. Look here, lads, here wur a blob. Three cheers
for new parson!"
He pointed laughingly to his bruised forehead with one hand, while he
waved the other in the air, with the result that a perfect thunder of
cheers arose, during which the self-instituted, irrepressible advocate
of workmen's rights made another attempt to be heard; but his time had
passed, the men were in another temper, and he was met with a cry raised
by Tom Podmore.
"Put him oonder the poomp." Simeon Slee turned and fled, the majority
of the crowd after him, and the others slowly filtered away till the
yard was empty.
Volume 1, Chapter VIII.