The crowd liked that, and found themselves jeering at the interrupter as well as at the speaker. 'Why, you'--he pointed at some one in the crowd--'_you_'re like the man at 'Ammersmith this morning. 'E wus awskin' me, "'Ow would you like men to st'y at 'ome and do the fam'ly washin'?" I told 'im I wouldn't advise it. I 'ave too much respect fur'--they waited while slyly he brought out--'me clo'es.' 'It's their place,' said some one in a rage; 'the women _ought_ to do the washin'.' 'I'm not sure you aren't right. For a good many o' you fellas from the look o' you, you cawn't even wash yourselves.' This was outrageous. It was resented in an incipient riot. The helmets of the police bobbed about. An angry voice had called out-- 'Oo are you talkin' to?' The anxiety of the inexperienced chairman was almost touching. The Socialist revelled in the disturbance he'd created. He walked up and down with that funny rolling gait, poking out his head at intervals in a turtle-esque fashion highly provocative, holding his huge paws kangaroo fashion, only with fingers stiffly pointed, and shooting them out at intervals towards the crowd in a very ecstasy of good-natured contempt. 'Better go 'ome and awsk yer wife to wash yer fice,' he advised. '_You_ cawn't even do _that_ bit o' fam'ly washin'. Go and awsk _some_ woman.' There was a scuffle in the crowd. A section of it surged up towards the monument. 'Which of us d'you mean?' demanded a threatening voice. 'Well,' said the Socialist, coolly looking down, 'it takes about ten of your sort to make a man, so you may take it I mean the lot of you.' Again the hands shot out and scattered scorn amongst his critics. There were angry, indistinguishable retorts, and the crowd swayed. Miss Ernestine Blunt, who had been watching the fray with serious face, turned suddenly, catching sight of some one just arrived at the end of the platform. She jumped up, saying audibly to the speaker as she passed him, 'Here she is,' and proceeded to offer her hand to help some one to get up the improvised steps behind the lion. The Socialist had seized with fervour upon his last chance, and was flinging out showers of caustic advice among his foes, stirring them up to frenzy. Stonor, with contracted brows, had stared one dazed instant as the head of the new-comer came up behind the lion on the left. Jean, her eyes wide, incredulous, as though unable to accept their testimony, pressed a shade nearer the monument. Stonor made a sharp move forward, and took her by the arm. 'We're going now,' he said. 'Not yet--oh, _please_ not just yet,' she pleaded as he drew her round. 'Geoffrey, I do believe----' She looked back, with an air almost bewildered, over her shoulder, like one struggling to wake from a dream. Stonor was saying with decision to Lady John, 'I'm going to take Jean out of this mob. Will you come?'