When Garrick and his friends reached the Oxford road, as the thoroughfare was then called, the result of this meeting was making itself felt. The road was crowded with people who seemed waiting for something unusual to occur, though of what form it was to assume no one seemed to be aware. The crowd were at any rate good-humoured. They cheered heartily every coach that rolled by bearing splendidly dressed ladies to the Pantheon and to other and less public entertainments. They waved their hats over the chairs which, similarly burdened, went swinging along between the bearers, footmen walking on each side and link-boys running in advance, the glare of their torches giving additional redness to the faces of the hot fellows who had the chair-straps over their shoulders. Every now and again an officer of the Guards would come in for the cheers of the people, and occasionally a jostling match took place between some supercilious young beau and the apprentices, through the midst of whom he attempted to force his way. More than once swords flashed beneath the sickly illumination of the lamps, but the drawers of the weapons regretted their impetuosity the next minute, for they were quickly disarmed, either by the crowd closing with them or jolting them into the kennel, which at no time was savoury. Once, however, a tall young fellow, who had been struck by a stick, drew his sword and stood against a lamp-post preparatory to charging the crowd. It looked as if those who interfered with him would suffer, and a space was soon cleared in front of him. At that instant, however, he was thrown to the ground by the assault of a previously unseen foe: a boy dropped upon him from the lamp-post and sent his sword flying, while the crowd cheered and jeered in turn. At intervals a roar would arise, and the people would part before the frantic flight of a pickpocket, pursued and belaboured in his rush by a dozen apprentices, who carried sticks and straps, and were well able to use both. But a few minutes after Garrick, Goldsmith and Burke reached the road, all the energies of the crowds seemed to be directed upon one object, and there was a cry of, “Here they come--here she comes--a cheer for Mrs. Baddeley!” “O Lord,” cried Garrick, “they have gone so far as to choose Sophia Baddeley for their experiment!” “Their notion clearly is not to do things by degrees,” said Goldsmith. “They might have begun with a less conspicuous person than Mrs. Baddeley. There are many gradations in colour between black and white.” “But not between black and White's,” said Burke. “This notion is well worthy of the wit of White's.” “Sophia is not among the gradations that Goldsmith speaks of,” said Garrick. “But whatever be the result of this jerk into prominence, it cannot fail to increase her popularity at the playhouse.” “That's the standpoint from which a good manager regards such a scene as this,” said Burke. “Sophia will claim an extra twenty guineas a week after to-night.”