The crowd looked around at the village constable. The constable frowned with the air of a man who had not entirely succeeded in making up his mind. “We’ve got our rights,” the butcher went on, “and I defy any one to say the contrairy. If there’s anybody here who don’t agree with me, now’s the time for him to step up and express his opinion. Free speech is our motto and— What name, please?” “My name is Gleeson,” announced the newcomer, “and I should like to say a few words.” “For the agitation, may I ask, or against?” “My attitude,” said Mr. Gleeson, “is that of a peace-maker.” The crowd grumbled; the butcher called for order. Mr. Gleeson ascended the chair. When, at the end of ten minutes, he stepped down, only the constable was there to give him a hand. The constable accounted for the dispersal of the crowd by pointing out that supper time was near, and on Mr. Gleeson asking whether he thought the words spoken had produced any effect, replied, cautiously, that it was difficult to say. The constable, as one who had looked on at many struggles, gave the opinion that you could not do better than let the parties fight it out and, this done, then possibly, but not certainly, came the moment for you to interfere. Mr. Gleeson felt bound, in reply, to mention that he had in his time been called to the bar; intimated that, in circumstances such as these, it seemed more fitting that he should give advice than take it. “Now,” admitted the constable, “now you’re putting a different light, sir, on the matter. To tell the truth, I wasn’t quite aweer who I was talking to. I look on your arrival here, sir, as particular fortunate, because you can back me up in any action I see fit to take.” “Any correct action.” “That’s the only way I’ve got of doing things. I’ve never yet made a blunder, and I don’t suppose now I ever shall.” “We are all of us liable to err,” pointed out Mr. Gleeson. “Being liable to do a thing,” retorted the constable judicially, “and actually doing it, is two entirely different matters. Shall I tell you, sir, what idea has just come into my head?” Permission given. “This is the way I get ’old of notions,” went on the other self-exultantly. “I may be walking along a quiet lane, or standing here, as I am now, and all at once they come into my noddle like a—well, more like a flash of lightning than anything else. It’s won’erful. Gives me quite a turn for the moment. Guess what the notion is that I’ve just thought of.” The gentleman from London excused himself from making the attempt, and found his arm hooked confidentially by the handle of the policeman’s stick.