One cry of approval came from the distant gallery, but this scarcely counted, for it was a voice that had applauded contrary statements with the same decision. Erb knew the owner of the voice, a queer old crank, who went about to public meetings, his pockets bursting with newspapers, more than content if in the Free Library the next day he should find but one of his solitary cries of “Hear, hear,” reported in the daily press. “I’ve no doubt they feel pretty certain of a safe eight or ten per cent.; if they didn’t, this meeting would never have been held, and we should have been denied the pleasure of listening to that lucid and illuminating speech with which your Grace has favoured us. I say this that the previous speaker may see and that you all may recognise the fact that if those I represent give the cause any assistance, we do so with our eyes wide open, and that we are not blindfolded by the cheap flannel sort of arguments to which we have just listened. But let me go on. Because this is going to be a soft thing for the capitalists, it by no means follows that it is going to be a hard thing for the worker. On the contrary! I can see—or I think I can see—that this is likely to benefit both of us. (Cheers.) And whilst I repudiate the attitude and the arguments of the last speaker, I promise you that I am prepared to do all that I can for the scheme—(cheers)—not in the interests of capital, for capital can look after itself, but in the interests of labour, which sometimes wants a lot of looking after. Your Grace, I beg to second the resolution.” Not a great speech by any means, but one with the golden virtue of brevity, and one spoken with obvious earnestness. The Hall liked it; the subsequent speakers made genial references to it, and the Duchess, in acknowledging a vote of thanks, repaid Erb for his compliment to herself by prophesying that Mr. Barnes would prove a pillar of strength to the cause, declaring graciously that she should watch his career with interest, and gave him a fierce smile that seemed to hint that this in itself was sufficient to ensure success. (Later, when he said goodbye, the Duchess called him Mr. Blenkinsop, and begged him to convey her kindest regards to his dear wife.) “I wonder,” said a gentleman with concave spectacles, “I wonder, now, whether you have a card about you?” “Going to do a trick?” asked Erb. “Here’s mine. Have you ever thought of entering the House?” “Someone would have to provide me with a latch-key.” “I take you!” remarked the spectacled gentleman adroitly. “Don’t happen to be Welsh, I suppose, by any chance? Ah! a pity!” For a moment it occurred to Erb that this might be a sample of aristocratic chaff; he stopped his retort on seeing that the other was talking with perfect seriousness. “But something else may happen at any moment. We live in strange times.” “We always do,” said Erb. “I shall keep you in my mind.”