During the hour-long oration Eves was up and down several times, noting with satisfaction that the mercury was steadily rising, yet a little doubtful whether it would reach the critical point before the close of the meeting. He noticed towards the end of the hour that the heat was telling on some members of the audience. Women were fanning themselves; two or three plethoric farmers had fallen asleep: all the Tommies had unbuttoned their tunics. "Some fug, mate!" one of them remarked in a stage whisper. Eves only smiled in answer; he had seen that the mercury now touched 74°, and having stoked up the furnace to its full capacity, was satisfied that he could do no more, and stood among the soldiers. The great speech ended in wild and whirling words: the speaker sat down amid applause, and Noakes arose. "Now, my friends, we’ve heard a terrible fine speech, that we have, and I agree with every word of it. Afore I call upon our candidate—he’ll be our member to-morrow—to propose a vote of thanks to our comrade, I’ve a thing or two to say for to bring it home to the hearts o’ the men and women o’ Pudlington. Capitalism, as he truly said, is the deadly poison as is driving a nail into the roots o’ the nation: I couldn’t say better nor that. Well, then, neighbours all, what I do say is, don’t ’ee go and vote for no capitalist as belongs to a covey of profiteers, birds of prey as peck out the vitals o’ the widder and the orphan. Ah, neighbours! my heart bleeds as I think o’ the poor lone widder woman as pays dear for her bread, and can’t get no cheese, scraping to pay the rate collector as he——" "Who raised Widow Pouncey’s rent?" came a clear voice from the back of the hall. The mayor paused, and cast a swift glance in the direction of the questioner. He had recognised the voice, and sought for that well-remembered figure in officer’s khaki. The somnolent audience was roused, every head was turned, many people had risen from their seats. Mrs. Pouncey, who had been dozing, her head constantly wobbling over towards Templeton’s shoulder, suddenly sat erect, and exclaimed with a cry of delight: "That’s Mr. Eves at last, bless him!" Eves himself, having launched his question, and ascertained that the mercury stood at 75°, turned with a smile towards the eager Tommies who wanted to know all about Widow Pouncey. Noakes recovered from the shock before the first thrill of excitement had passed off. "’Tis low manners to interrupt," he said in his smoothest tones, still trying to discover Eves’s whereabouts, but in vain. "I was a-going to say——" "Answer the question!" came in a chorused roar from the soldiers. "Who raised Widow Pouncey’s rent?" "Shall I tell ’em, sir?" whispered Mrs. Pouncey. "No, no!" advised Templeton, anxious to avoid publicity. "Better say nothing." "Ay, I be that shy, and the room so terrible hot." "As chairman of this meeting," said Noakes, with a patient smile, "I rule that questions can’t be asked now."