She stopped. The men, worried and puzzled and surprised, looked a little sheepishly at each other. “Oh, well,” said he of the hostler type, “my leddy, no offense, seein’ how you feel about it. Hi say--’ave your way.” “Yes, yes,” squealed the preacher, “if the empty badges of mournin’ give ennyone--ennyone--satisfaction, why it’s not in reason to question their motives in this excroociating moment.” “Gad! the lady’s right,” shouted the former belligerent, whose prompt hint had at first nearly precipitated the riot, “She’s got the right ring--and I’m damned if anyone teches the rags there I’ll bust his cock-eyed head aff his shoulders.” This vociferous statement produced a hubbub of approval, and won many distinct admissions of entire acquiescence--and with these reassuring murmurs the lady retired, after telling her thanks, and the gathering withdrew down the street. Leacraft and Thomsen continued their way westward. Before them suddenly, after a half-hour’s sauntering, shone an avenue of military splendor. They were in Charing Cross, having pushed down the Strand, and they were on the south side of Trafalgar Square, and not far from the equestrian statue of Charles I. Trafalgar Square was filled with troops. The effect of color was transporting. The massed regiments of infantry were broken by parks of artillery, while immediately under Nelson’s column the Nineteenth Hussars--the “Dumpies of 1759,” the Fifteenth Hussars--“Elliott’s Light Horse,” the Sixteenth Lancers--“the Queen’s,” and the Thirteenth Hussars--“the ragged brigade”--were confusedly stationed, their mingling busbies and dependent bags looking like a garden patch. From point to point issued galloping videttes, carrying their pennants on lance-heads affixed to the stirrups, which undulated in the air, as the horses pranced and caracolled. The tramp of troops, the sighing of bugles, and the resounding surges of music, surrounded them. It was afternoon. The beginning of the first day’s procession from the Abbey doubtless was at hand. The stirring air communicated the thrills of an immense event, and the people, petrified into attention, stood crushed against each other in rows of forlorn expectancy. The suffocating excitement was unbearable, the more so because of its immobility. Leacraft decided to rush through London, and reach Victoria Park, the Hackney Marshes and Clapton, in order to determine the attitude, the action, of the poorer classes. Thomsen was unwilling to desert the fermenting throngs around Trafalgar Square, or miss, for a moment, the kaleidoscope of changing soldiery, and so Leacraft, leaving him, entered a hansom and shot off.