MR. P. Lucky for me! There seems to be a _gentleman_ 'ere who doesn't think women ought to 'ave the vote. VOICE. _One?_ Oh-h! (_Laughter._) MR. P. Per'aps 'e doesn't know much about women? (_Indistinguishable repartee._) Oh, the gentleman says 'e's married. Well, then, fur the syke of 'is wife we musn't be too sorry 'e's 'ere. No doubt she's s'ying: "'Eaven by prysed those women are mykin' a Demonstrytion in Trafalgar Square, and I'll 'ave a little peace and quiet at 'ome for one Sunday in my life." (_The crowd laughs and there are jeers for the interrupter--and at the speaker._) (_Pointing._) Why, _you're_ like the man at 'Ammersmith this morning. 'E was awskin' me: "'Ow would you like men to st'y at 'ome and do the fam'ly washin'?" (_Laughter._) I told 'im I wouldn't advise it. I 'ave too much respect fur--me clo'es. VAGRANT. It's their place--the women ought to do the washin'. MR. P. I'm not sure you ain't right. For a good many o' you fellas, from the look o' you--you cawn't even wash yerselves. (_Laughter._) VOICE (_threatening_). 'Oo are you talkin' to? (_Chairman more anxious than before--movement in the crowd._) THREATENING VOICE. Which of us d'you mean? MR. P. (_coolly looking down_). Well, it takes about ten of your sort to myke a man, so you may take it I mean the lot of you. (_Angry indistinguishable retorts and the crowd sways._ MISS ERNESTINE BLUNT, _who has been watching the fray with serious face, turns suddenly, catching sight of some one just arrived at the end of the platform._ MISS BLUNT _goes_ R. _with alacrity, saying audibly to_ PILCHER _as she passes, "Here she is," and proceeds to offer her hand helping some one to get up the improvised steps. Laughter and interruption in the crowd._) LADY JOHN. Now, there's another woman going to speak. JEAN. Oh, is she? Who? Which? I do hope she'll be one of the wild ones. MR. P. (_speaking through this last. Glancing at the new arrival whose hat appears above the platform_ R.). That's all right, then. (_Turns to the left._) When I've attended to this microbe that's vitiating the air on my right---- (_Laughter and interruptions from the crowd._) STONOR (_staring_ R., _one dazed instant, at the face of the new arrival, his own changes_). (JEAN _withdraws her arm from his and quite suddenly presses a shade nearer the platform._ STONOR _moves forward and takes her by the arm._) We're going now. JEAN. Not yet--oh, please not yet. (_Breathless, looking back._) Why I--I do believe---- STONOR (_to_ LADY JOHN, _with decision_). I'm going to take JEAN out of this mob. Will you come? LADY JOHN. What? Oh yes, if you think---- (_Another look through her glasses._) But isn't that--_surely_ its----!!!