There was nothing for it but to leap on to the very benches and yell as long as your voice would hold out. After that the meeting was mere exuberance of mutual congratulations. Mr. Cullen was understood to be moving the usual vote of thanks, but even his vocal organs strove hard for little purpose. Daniel Dabbs had never made a speech in his life, but excitement drove him on the honourable post of seconder. The chairman endeavoured to make certain announcements; then the assembly broke up. The estrade was invaded; everybody wished to shake hands with Mutimer. Mr. Cullen tried to obtain Richard’s attention to certain remarks of value; failing, he went off with a scowl. Mr. Cowes attempted to button-hole the popular hero; finding Richard conversing with someone else at the same time, he turned away with a covert sneer. The former of the two worthies had desired to insist upon every member of the Union becoming a teetotaller; the latter wished to say that he thought it would be well if a badge of temperance were henceforth worn by Unionists. On turning away, each glanced at the clock and hurried his step. In a certain dark street not very far from the lecture-room Mr. Cullen rose on tip-toe at the windows of a dull little public-house. A Unionist was standing at the bar; Mr. Cullen hurried on, into a street yet darker. Again he tip-toed at a window. The glimpse reassured him; he passed quickly through the doorway, stepped to the bar, gave an order. Then he turned, and behold, on a seat just under the window sat Mr. Cowes, & short pipe in his mouth, a smoking tumbler held on his knee. The supporters of total abstinence nodded to each other, with a slight lack of spontaneity. Mr. Cullen, having secured his own tumbler, came by his comrade’s side. ‘Deal o’ fine talk to wind up with,’ he remarked tentatively. ‘He means what he says,’ returned the other gravely. ‘Oh yes,’ Mr. Cullen hastened to admit. ‘Mutimer means what he says! Only the way of saying it, I meant--I’ve got a bit of a sore throat.’ ‘So have I. After that there hot room.’ They nodded at each other sympathetically. Mr. Cullen filled a little black pipe. ‘Got alight?’ Mr. Cowes offered the glowing bowl of his own clay; they put their noses together and blew a cloud. ‘Of course there’s no saying what time ‘ll do,’ observed tall Mr. Cowes, sententiously, after a gulp of warm liquor. ‘No more there is,’ assented short Mr. Cullen with half a wink. ‘It’s easy to promise.’ ‘As easy as tellin’ lies.’ Another silence. ‘Don’t suppose you and me ‘ll get much of it,’ Mr. Cowes ventured to observe. ‘About as much as you can put in your eye without winkin’,’ was the other’s picturesque agreement. They talked till closing time. CHAPTER VII