'But I'm so afraid that, just out of pure nervousness, I'll say the wrong thing.' 'If you do, I'll be there,' returned the chairman, a little grimly. 'But it's the very first time in my life----' 'Now, look here----' Ernestine reached out past this person who was luxuriating in her own emotions, and drew the ample mauve matron into the official group close to where Miss Levering sat nursing the handbills. 'It's easy enough talking to these little meetings. They're quite good and quiet--not a bit like Hyde Park.' (One of the young men poked the other. They exchanged looks.) 'But there are three things we all agree it's just as well to keep in mind: Not to talk about ourselves'--she measured off the tit-bits of wisdom with a slim forefinger--'not to say anything against the press, and, if possible, remember to praise the police.' 'Praise the police!' ejaculated the mauve matron. 'Sh!' said Ernestine, softly. But not so easily was the tide of indignation stemmed. 'I saw with my own eyes----' began the woman. 'Yes, yes, but----' she lowered her voice, Borrodaile had to strain to catch what she said, 'you see it's no use beating our heads against a stone wall. A movement that means to be popular must have the police on its side. After all, they do very well--considering.' 'Considering they're men?' demanded the matron. 'Anyhow,' Ernestine went on, 'even if they behaved ten times worse, it's not a bit of good to antagonize the police or the press. If they aren't our friends, we've got to make them our friends. They're both _much_ better than they were. They must be encouraged!' said the wise young Daniel, with a little nod. Then as she saw or felt that the big matron might elude her vigilance and break out into indiscretion, 'Why, we had a reporter in from the _Morning Magnifier_ only to-day. He said, "The public seems to have got tired of reading that you spit and scratch and prod policemen with your hatpins. Now, do you mind saying what is it you really do?" I told him to come here this afternoon. Now, when I've opened the meeting, _you'll_ tell him!' 'Oh, _dear_!' the young woman patted her fringe, 'do you suppose we'll be in the _Magnifier_ to-morrow? How dreadful!' During this little interchange a procession of men streaming homeward in their hundreds came walking down the Embankment in twos and threes or singly, shambling past the loosely gathered assemblage about the bench.