"You've borne patiently with me, and I mustn't tax you further, though there's plenty more I could say yet. But I do want you just to think over these matters for yourselves, and not be led away by fine talk which hasn't sense in it. And while you're thinking, you just remember the wives and children at home. What's best for them?"
Holdfast sat down without another word, and not without his meed of applause.
But though he was heard patiently throughout, and though he had dropped some seeds which might perchance take root, yet those present were few in number compared with the many out on strike; and those few had not force of character or vigour of will to speak out and to act for themselves.
[CHAPTER IX.]
A COLD EVENING.
IT was a Sunday evening, and bitterly cold. A hard frost had come to aggravate the misery which already reigned in the town.
Martha Stevens cowered over a scanty fire, with her shivering children. Harry had wailed himself to sleep in his little bed; but Millie and Bobbie were up still, clinging to their mother's faded dress.
"I wonder what father's doing," patient Millie said. She did not utter the first words which rose to her lips—"I wonder if father 'll bring us anything to eat." Millie was unusually thoughtful for her few years, and would not say needlessly what would distress "mother."