All the same, when they saw she had staying power, and a kind of Transpontine sense of drama in her, the populace mocked less and applauded more. Why not? She was very much like an overblown Adelphi heroine, and they could see her act for nothing. But every time she apostrophized the '_Wim--men--nof--Vinglund!_' two of those same gave way to overcharged feelings. 'Oh, my dear, I can't stand this! I'm going home!' 'Yes, yes. Let's get away from this terrible female. I suppose they keep back the best speakers for the last.' The two ladies turned, and began to edge their way out of the tightly packed mass of humanity. 'It's rather a pity, too,' said Mrs. Fox-Moore, looking back, 'for this is the only chance we'll ever have. I did want to hear what the skilly was.' 'Yes, and about the dog-whip.' 'Skilly! Sounds as if it might be what she hit the policeman with.' Mrs. Fox-Moore was again pausing to look back. 'That gyrating female is more what I expected them _all_ to be.' 'Yes; but just listen to that.' 'To what?' 'Why, the way they're applauding her.' 'Yes, they positively revel in the creature!' It was a long, tiresome business this worming their way out. They paused again and again two or three times, looking back at the scene with a recurrent curiosity, and each time repelled by the platform graces of the lady who was so obviously enjoying herself to the top of her bent. Yet even after the fleeing twain arrived on the fringe of the greatly augmented crowd, something even then prevented their instantly making the most of their escape. They stood criticizing and denouncing. Again Mrs. Fox-Moore said it was a pity, since they were there, that they should have to go without hearing one of those who had been in prison, 'For we'll never have another chance.' 'Perhaps,' said her sister, looking back at the gesticulating figure--'perhaps we're being a little unreasonable. We were annoyed at first because they weren't what we expected, and when we get what we came to see, we run away.' While still they lingered, with a final fling of arms and toss of plumes, the champion of the women of England sat down in the midst of applause. 'You hear? It's all very well. Most of them simply loved it.' And now the chairman, in a strikingly different style, was preparing the way for the next speaker, at mention of whom the crowd seemed to feel they'd been neglecting their prerogative of hissing. 'What name did she say? Why do they make that noise?' The two ladies began to worm their way back; but this was a different matter from coming out. 'Wot yer doin'?' some one inquired sternly of Mrs. Fox-Moore. Another turned sharply, 'Look out! Oo yer pushin', old girl?' The horrid low creatures seemed to have no sense of deference. And the stuff they smoked! 'Pah!' observed Mrs. Fox-Moore, getting the full benefit of a noxious puff. '_Pah!_'