Feminist fiction; Suffragists -- Fiction; Women -- Fiction
Presently one of the children burst out crying, and continued to howl
lustily till the lady looked up from her page and inquired what was the
matter. The unwashed infant stared open-mouthed at this intruder upon
her grief. Instead of answering, she regarded the lady with a bored
astonishment, as who should say: What are you interrupting me for, just
in the middle of a good yell? She then took up the strain as nearly as
possible where she had left off. She was getting on very well with this
second attempt at a demonstration until Miss Levering made some mention
of a penny, whereupon the infant again suspended her more violent
manifestations, though the tears kept rolling down.
After various attempts on the lady's part, the little girl was induced
to come and occupy the middle place on the river side of the bench,
between Vida and the tramp. While the lady held the penny in her hand,
and cross-examined the still weeping child, Borrodaile sat quietly
listening behind his paper. When the child couldn't answer those
questions that were of a general nature, the tramp did, and the three
were presently quite a pleasant family party. The only person 'out of
it' was the petrified gentleman on the other side.
A few minutes before the arrival of the Suffragettes, two nondescript
young men, in a larky mood, appeared with the announcement that they'd
seen 'one of them' at the top of Ranelagh Street.
'That'll be the little 'un,' said the tramp to nobody. 'You don't ketch
'er bein' late!'
'Blunt! No--cheeky little devil,' remarked one of the young men,
offering a new light upon the royal virtue of punctuality; but from the
enthusiasm with which they availed themselves of the rest of Lord
Borrodaile's side of the bench, it was obvious they had hurried to the
spot with the intention of securing front seats at the show.
'Of course it ain't goin' to be as much fun as the 'Yde Park Sunday
aufternoons. Jim Wrightson goes to them. Keeps things lively--'e does.'
'Kicks up a reg'lar shindy, don't 'e?'
'Yes. We can't do nothin' 'ere--ain't enough'--whether of space or of
spirited young men he did not specify.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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