Looking over the banisters, Erb saw that women-folk had arrived, charged with the double duty of listening to the coming concert and of conveying their male relatives home at a reasonable hour. Louisa’s white young face glanced up at him with a twitch, and asked anxiously whether it was all over; Erb replied that, on the contrary, it was just about to begin. “Kindly take your former seats,” said the Chairman importantly. The chattering room became quiet as the two men entered, and Payne rapped with his hammer for silence. “The voting has come out,” he went on, looking at some figures on the sheet of foolscap before him, “the voting has come out 29 on one side and 14 on the other.” The rattle of conversation recommenced. “Less noise there, less noise!” cried the Chair urgently. “I can’t ’ear meself talk.” “Wish we couldn’t,” remarked the Great Eastern man from his end of the table. “Be careful, my friend,” said the Chair warningly. “Be careful, or else I shall rule you out of order. I have the pleasure now of calling on my friend Erb Barnes.” The room cheered. “Order, please, for Erb Barnes.” “What have I got to talk about?” demanded Erb. “Talk about?” echoed the Chair amazedly. “Talk about? Why, you’ve got to acknowledge in a few appropriate words your appointment as paid organisin’ secretary of the Railway Carmen’s Society.” CHAPTER V ERB entered upon his duties with appetite. The single office of the new society was a spare room over a coffee tavern in Grange Road, and the first disbursement was for the painting on the window in bold white letters the full title of the society, with the added words, “Herbert Barnes, secretary.” (Young Louisa went five minutes out of her way, morning and evening, in order to see this proclamation of her brother’s name.) To the office came Erb promptly every morning at an hour when the attendants at the coffee-room were on their knees scrubbing, chairs set high on tables, and forms on end against the walls, and the young women were a good deal annoyed by the fact that Erb, in these circumstances, bestowed on them none of the chaff and badinage which were as necessary to their existence as the very air. When he had gone through the post letters—the more there were of these the more contented he was—and had answered them on post-cards, he went out, fixing a notice on the door, “Back Shortly. Any messages leave at Bar,” and hurried to some railway depot, or some point where railway carmen were likely to congregate, hurrying non-members into becoming members, passing the word round in regard to public meetings, hunting for grievances, and listening always, even when some, with erroneous ideas of his duties, requested advice in regard to some domestic trouble with lodgers, or insubordination on the part of babes. All this meant visits to Paddington, to Willesden, to Dalston, to Poplar, to Nine Elms: it gave to him a fine sensation of