London (England) -- Fiction; Working class -- Fiction
This was written on the slip of paper, and passed along to Erb at a
moment when the grisly fear had begun to possess him that he might not be
called upon at all. He nodded to the secretary, and felt that the
audience, now tired of listening to spoken words, looked at him
doubtfully. One of the three clergymen being selected to move the
resolution, the other two looked at their shoes with a pained interest,
and presently tugged at their black watch-guards, ascertained the time,
and, just before the chosen man arose, slipped quietly out. Fortunately
for Erb, the remaining clergyman started on a line of reasoning
excellently calculated to annoy and to stimulate. Began by pointing out
that everybody nowadays worked excepting the working man, doubted whether
it was of much use offering to him help, but declaring himself, in
doleful tones, an optimist, congratulated the new movement on its
courage, its altruism, its high nobility of purpose, and managed, before
sitting down, to intimate very defiantly that unless labour seized this
unique opportunity, then labour must be left to shift for itself and
could no longer expect any assistance from him.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” said Erb distinctly. The promise of listening to
a voice that could be heard without difficulty aroused the Hall. “I
should be glad if the gentleman who spoke last could spare just three
minutes of his time, and refrain for that space from making a hurried and
somewhat undignified departure from the Hall.” The clergyman who had
adopted the crouching attitude of those who desire to escape furtively
from close confinement, returned and sat, his back straightened. “He has
spoke—I should say, he has spoken—in a patronising way of labour, and I
want to tell him that we resent very strongly his condescending and
almost contemptuous words.”
His predecessor rose and said, “May it please your—”
“No, no, no!” said Erb, with but a slight modification of his Southwark
Park manner, “I didn’t interrupt the reverend gentleman, and I’m not
going to allow him to interrupt me. Or to assume the duties, your
Grace,” with a nod to the chair, “which you perform with such conspicuous
charm and ability.”
The Duchess, who, fearing a row, had been anxiously consulting those
around her in order to gain hints as to procedure, recovered confidence
on receiving this compliment, and gave a smile of relief. Men at the
table below adjusted their black leaves of carbonic paper and began to
write.
“Now, I’ve been into the details almost as carefully as the reverend
gentleman has, and what I want to say, in order that this audience should
not consider that we are absolutely silly fools, is, that so far from
this movement having been arranged in order to benefit the workers
exclusively, it is very clear to me that there’s a few behind the scenes
who are going to make a bit out of it.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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