Bray was one of the first on the spot, piping, drumming, and shaking his bells at the appearance of every new group. Other musicians joined the train, flags were displayed, the women gathered to look on, the children cheered and brought green boughs, and all had the appearance of rejoicing, though it would have been difficult for any one to say what there was to rejoice about. Many had no clear idea of what was doing or going to be done: some had no idea at all, and those who knew best thought it a pity that such a display should have been made as might bear the appearance of being intended to intimidate the masters. The Committee were so generally of this opinion, that they did not attend, but went quietly, one by one, to the Spread Eagle; so that, in fact, the procession was formed to escort Clack, and nobody else. This was all the more glorious for him, he thought; and he walked proudly just behind the chief musician, Bray, now shaking hands from side to side, now bowing with his hand on his heart, now bidding all halt and giving the signal for groans or cheers. There were three groans at Mortimer and Rowe’s, and three cheers at Elliott’s, which were received with infinite disdain by that gentleman as he sat at his breakfast table, balancing his egg-spoon and glancing at the newspaper. The procession next overtook Mr. Wentworth in Chancery Lane, pacing to business on his gray pony. All eyes were turned to Clack for a signal whether to groan or cheer. There was, in the meanwhile, a faint beginning of each, at which the pony looked more astonished than his master, who only chuckled and murmured in his usual manner as he looked upon the assemblage with a quiet smile. “What do you expect to get by this fine show?” said he to a youth near him. “Cheap bread! Hurrah!” cried the lad waving his bludgeon, and wishing there was a loaf on the top of it. “And you, and you, and you?” said Mr. Wentworth to one and another as they passed. “No potato peelings! Reform and good wages! Liberty and cheap bread!” cried they, according to their various notions. The children’s only idea was (and it was the wisest) that it was a holiday, with a procession and a band of music. When Clack had got a little a-head of the slow-moving pony and its rider, he decided to halt and hold a short parley. Advancing with a bow, he said, “You call yourself the poor man’s friend, I believe, sir?” “No man’s enemy, I hope,” replied Mr. Wentworth. “Then allow us the honour of giving you three cheers on your pledge to support our interests this evening. Hats off!” “Better wait awhile,” said Mr. Wentworth. “Cheers will keep, and I dislike unnecessary pledges.” Clack looked suspicious, and nods and winks went round. “We might differ, you know, as to what your interests are, and then I might seem to break my word when I did not mean it.” “Let him go free,” said a bystander. “He knows the consequences if he opposes us.”