Before the words had left his lips the crowd was on the two men. The doctor was well known as a friend of the poor, and he thought that he was rather liked by the women, who had been often helped through their troubles by him. But there were a good many women in the crowd, and there was no mistaking their hostile intentions towards him. He was severely hustled, and when he turned and faced them he looked into countenances full of malice. His hat was knocked off, his coat was torn, and, as he was only one man against two hundred, he was not at all sure that his life was not in danger. He had got separated from his friend, and was wondering if he could find a way of escape, when a door was opened, and he was drawn in by a man who had watched the scene and resolved to help the doctor. Soon a loud knocking was heard at the street door, and Stapleton’s name was called. The door was cautiously opened, and a woman, half-drunk and badly cut, was thrust in. Dr. Stapleton bound up her wounds, the woman cursing him all the while. At length the street grew more quiet, and he reached the hall where the meeting was to be held, and found it a scene of the greatest confusion. The chairman’s appearance and that of the speakers called forth a storm of hisses and groans. He tried to speak, but the people would not hear him; neither would they allow the candidate to be heard. Evidently it was a packed meeting of Lavender’s supporters. But there was strange irony in their making themselves hoarse by shouting, “Liberty! Liberty!” though, after all, it was no new thing that the liberty they wanted was liberty to think and do as they pleased, and compel everybody else to do the same. Somebody uttered in a lull the name of Stapleton. “Try what you can do,” said the chairman. “I am sure they will not hear me,” said the doctor, “since they will not listen to you.” And he was correct. There was a perfect yell when he rose to his feet, and he sat down, as the others had done, without being heard. There were a few remarks made for the benefit of the reporters, and then the meeting concluded in an uproar, as it had commenced. Dr. Stapleton noticed, as he went home, a little heap of stones, which he did not remember to have seen before. He understood its meaning later. His servants had retired, and he was reading, when he received a shock. A shower of stones came crashing through the windows of his house, smashing glass and breaking lamps, mirrors, and vases. One stone that, fortunately, fell on the table instead of the person of the doctor, had a label affixed to it, on which was written “Good-night, doctor, and pleasant dreams to you!” Stapleton was rather comforted by this when, having examined the house and discovered the damage done to it, he read the inscription. “After all,” he said, “this looks more like fun than fury.”