'Then I hope the dickens you won't have,' said Mike. Of all things he hated most being conspicuous before a crowd--except at cricket, which was a different thing--and he had an uneasy feeling that Psmith would rather like it than otherwise. 'We shall see,' said Psmith absently. 'Of course, if in the vein, I might do something big in the way of oratory. I am a plain, blunt man, but I feel convinced that, given the opportunity, I should haul up my slacks to some effect. But--well, we shall see. We shall see.' And with this ghastly state of doubt Mike had to be content. It was with feelings of apprehension that he accompanied Psmith from the flat to Trafalgar Square in search of a cab which should convey them to Clapham Common. They were to meet Mr Waller at the edge of the Common nearest the old town of Clapham. On the journey down Psmith was inclined to be _debonnaire_. Mike, on the other hand, was silent and apprehensive. He knew enough of Psmith to know that, if half an opportunity were offered him, he would extract entertainment from this affair after his own fashion; and then the odds were that he himself would be dragged into it. Perhaps--his scalp bristled at the mere idea--he would even be let in for a speech. This grisly thought had hardly come into his head, when Psmith spoke. 'I'm not half sure,' he said thoughtfully, 'I sha'n't call on you for a speech, Comrade Jackson.' 'Look here, Psmith--' began Mike agitatedly. 'I don't know. I think your solid, incisive style would rather go down with the masses. However, we shall see, we shall see.' Mike reached the Common in a state of nervous collapse. Mr Waller was waiting for them by the railings near the pond. The apostle of the Revolution was clad soberly in black, except for a tie of vivid crimson. His eyes shone with the light of enthusiasm, vastly different from the mild glow of amiability which they exhibited for six days in every week. The man was transformed. 'Here you are,' he said. 'Here you are. Excellent. You are in good time. Comrades Wotherspoon and Prebble have already begun to speak. I shall commence now that you have come. This is the way. Over by these trees.' They made their way towards a small clump of trees, near which a fair-sized crowd had already begun to collect. Evidently listening to the speakers was one of Clapham's fashionable Sunday amusements. Mr Waller talked and gesticulated incessantly as he walked. Psmith's demeanour was perhaps a shade patronizing, but he displayed interest. Mike proceeded to the meeting with the air of an about-to-be-washed dog. He was loathing the whole business with a heartiness worthy of a better cause. Somehow, he felt he was going to be made to look a fool before the afternoon was over. But he registered a vow that nothing should drag him on to the small platform which had been erected for the benefit of the speaker.