"O, for an hour of the Kaiser!--He'd deal with em. The one man left in Europe--now my poor Emperah's gone. Lloyd George ... Bowing the knee to Baal ... Traitors to their country ... Want a lesson ... What can you expect?" He mouthed away grandiloquently in detached sentences to the air in general; and nobody paid any attention to him. Near by, Mr. Pigott, red and ruffled, was asking what the Army had to do with it?--who wanted the soldiers?--why not leave it to the civilians?--with a provocative glance at the Colonel. Then there was a noise of marching in the street, and a body of working-men drew up outside the door. "Who are those fellows?" asked the Archdeacon loudly. "Workers from the East-end, old cock," shouted one of them as offensively through the door. "Come to sign on as Specials! And just as good a right here as you have...." The leader of the men in the street broke away from them and shouldered into the yard, battle in his eye. It was Joe Burt, who, as the Colonel had once remarked, was sometimes a wise statesman, and sometimes a foaming demagogue. To-day he was the latter at his worst. "What did I tell yo?" he said to the Colonel roughly. "Bringin oop the Army against us. Royal Engineers driving trains and all! It's a disgrace." The Colonel reasoned with him. "But, my dear fellow, you can't have one section of the community holding up the country." "Can't have it!" surly and savage. "Yo've had five hundred dud plutocrats in the House of Lords holding up the people for years past. Did ye shout then? If they use direct action in their own interests why make a rout when 500,000 railway men come out for a living wage?--And _then_ you coom to the workers and ask them to strengthen the Army the Government'll use against them!--A wonder yo've the face!" He turned away, shaking. Just then happily there was a diversion. The yard-door, which a policeman had shut, burst open; and a baggy old gentleman lumbered through it with the scared look of a bear lost in a busy thoroughfare and much the motions of one. Holding on to his coat-tails like a keeper came Ruth. She was panting, and a little dishevelled; in her arms was her baby, and her hat was a-wry. "He would come!" she said, almost in tears. "There was no stoppin him. So I had just to come along too." Joe, aware that he had gone too far, and glad of the interruption, stepped up to Ruth and took the baby from her arms. The distressed woman gave him a look of gratitude and began to pat and preen her hair. At this moment Ernie burst into the yard. He was more alert than usual, and threw a swift, almost hostile, glance about him. Then he saw Ruth busy tidying herself, and relaxed. "Caught him playing truant, didn't you, in Saffrons Croft?" he said. "The park-keeper tell me." Ruth was recovering rapidly. "Yes," she laughed. "I told him it was nothing to do with him--strikes and riots and bloodshed!--Such an idea!"