"What"s the matter?" said Lady John.
"I can"t have you ladies pushed about in this crowd," he said under his breath. "I must get hold of a policeman. You wait just here. I"ll find one."
The adoring eyes of the girl watched the tall figure disappear.
"Look at her face!" Lady John, with her eyegla.s.s up, was staring in the opposite direction. "She"s like an inspired charwoman!"
Jean turned, and in her eagerness pressed on, Lady John following.
The agreeable presence of the young chairman was withdrawn from the fighting-line, and the figure of the working-woman stood alone. With her lean brown finger pointing straight at the more outrageous of the young hooligans, and her voice raised shrill above their impertinence--
"I"ve got boys of me own," she said, "and we laugh at all sorts o"
things, but I should be ashymed, and so would they, if ever they wus to be"yve as you"re doin" to-d"y."
When they had duly hooted that sentiment, they were quieter for a moment.
"People "ave been sayin" this is a Middle-Cla.s.s Woman"s Movement. It"s a libel. I"m a workin" woman m"self, the wife of a workin" man----"
"Pore devil!"
"Don"t envy "im, m"self!"
As one giving her credentials, she went on, "I"m a Pore Law Guardian----"
"Think o" that, now! Gracious me!"
A friendly person in the crowd turned upon the scoffer.
"Shut up, cawn"t yer."
"Not fur you!
Further statements on the part of the orator were drowned by--
"Go "ome and darn your ol" man"s stockin"s."
"Just clean yer _own_ doorstep."
She glowered her contempt upon the interrupters." It"s a pore sort of "ousekeeper that leaves "er doorstep till Sunday afternoon. Maybe that"s when you would do your doorstep. I do mine in the mornin", before you men are awake!" They relished that and gave her credit for a bull"s eye.
"You think," she went on quietly, seeing she had "got them"--"you think we women "ave no business servin" on Boards and thinking about politics." In a tone of exquisite contempt, "But wot"s politics!" she demanded. "It"s just "ousekeepin" on a big scyle." Somebody applauded.
"Oo among you workin" men "as the most comfortable "omes? Those of you that gives yer wives yer wyges."
"That"s it! That"s it!" they roared with pa.s.sion.
"Wantin" our money."
"That"s all this agitation"s about."
"Listen to me!" She came close to the edge of the plinth. "If it wus only to use fur _our_ comfort, d"ye think many o" you workin" men would be found turnin" over their wyges to their wives? No! Wot"s the reason thousands do--and the best and the soberest? Because the workin" man knows that wot"s a pound to _"im_ is twenty shillins to "is wife, and she"ll myke every penny in every one o" them shillins _tell_. She gets more fur "im out of "is wyges than wot "e can. Some o" you know wot the "omes is like w"ere the men _don"t_ let the women manage. Well, the Poor Laws and the "ole Government is just in the syme muddle because the men "ave tried to do the national "ousekeepin" without the women!"
They hooted, but they listened, too.
"Like I said to you before, it"s a libel to say it"s only the well-off women wot"s wantin" the vote. I can tell you wot plenty o" the poor women think about it. I"m one o" them! And I can tell you we see there"s reforms needed. _We ought to "ave the vote_; and we know "ow to appreciate the other women "oo go to prison for tryin" to get it for us!"
With a little final bob of emphasis, and a glance over her shoulder at the old woman and the young one behind her, she was about to retire. But she paused as the murmur in the crowd grew into distinct phrases.
""Inderin" policemen!"--"Mykin" rows in the street;" and a voice called out so near Jean that the girl jumped, "It"s the w"y yer goes on as mykes "em keep ye from gettin" votes. They see ye ain"t fit to "ave----"
And then all the varied charges were swallowed in a general uproar.
"Where"s Geoffrey? Oh, _isn"t_ she too funny for words?"
The agitated chairman had come forward. "You evidently don"t know," he said, "what had to be done by _men_ before the extension of suffrage in "67. If it hadn"t been for demonstrations----" But the rest was drowned.
The brown-serge woman stood there waiting, wavering a moment; and suddenly her shrill note rose clear over the indistinguishable Babel.
"You s"y woman"s plyce is "ome! Don"t you know there"s a third of the women in this country can"t afford the luxury of stayin" in their "omes?
They _got_ to go out and "elp make money to p"y the rent and keep the "ome from bein" sold up. Then there"s all the women that "aven"t got even miserable "omes. They "aven"t got any "omes _at all_."
"You said _you_ got one. W"y don"t you stop in it?"
"Yes, that"s like a man. If one o" you is all right he thinks the rest don"t matter. We women----"
But they overwhelmed her. She stood there with her gaunt arms folded--waiting. You felt that she had met other crises of her life with just that same smouldering patience. When the wave of noise subsided again, she was discovered to be speaking.
"P"raps _your_ "omes are all right! P"raps your children never goes "ungry. P"raps you aren"t livin", old and young, married and single, in one room."
"I suppose life is like that for a good many people," Jean Dunbarton turned round to say.
"Oh, yes," said her aunt.
"I come from a plyce where many fam"lies, if they"re to go on livin" _at all_, "ave to live like that. If you don"t believe me, come and let me show you!" She spread out her lean arms. "Come with me to Canning Town--come with me to Bromley--come to Poplar and to Bow. No, you won"t even think about the over-worked women and the underfed children, and the "ovels they live in. And you want that _we_ shouldn"t think neither----"
"We"ll do the thinkin". You go "ome and nuss the byby."
"I do nurse my byby; I"ve nursed seven. What have you done for yours?"
She waited in vain for the answer. "P"raps," her voice quivered, "p"raps your children never goes "ungry, and maybe you"re satisfied--though I must say I wouldn"t a thought it from the look o" yer."
"Oh, I s"y!"
"But we women are not satisfied. We don"t only want better things for our own children; we want better things for all. _Every_ child is our child. We know in our "earts we oughtn"t to rest till we"ve mothered "em every one."
"Wot about the men? Are _they_ all "appy?"
There was derisive laughter at that, and "No! No!" "Not precisely!"
"_"Appy?_ Lord!"
"No, there"s lots o" you men I"m sorry for," she said.