"But, my dear fellow, you can't have one section of the community holding up the country."
"Can't have it!" surly and savage. "Yo've had five hundred dud plutocrats in the House of Lords holding up the people for years past. Did ye shout then? If they use direct action in their own interests why make a rout when 500,000 railway men come out for a living wage?—And then you coom to the workers and ask them to strengthen the Army the Government'll use against them!—A wonder yo've the face!" He turned away, shaking.
Just then happily there was a diversion. The yard-door, which a policeman had shut, burst open; and a baggy old gentleman lumbered through it with the scared look of a bear lost in a busy thoroughfare and much the motions of one.
Holding on to his coat-tails like a keeper came Ruth. She was panting, and a little dishevelled; in her arms was her baby, and her hat was a-wry.
"He would come!" she said, almost in tears. "There was no stoppin him. So I had just to come along too."
Joe, aware that he had gone too far, and glad of the interruption, stepped up to Ruth and took the baby from her arms. The distressed woman gave him a look of gratitude and began to pat and preen her hair.
At this moment Ernie burst into the yard. He was more alert than usual, and threw a swift, almost hostile, glance about him. Then he saw Ruth busy tidying herself, and relaxed.
"Caught him playing truant, didn't you, in Saffrons Croft?" he said. "The park-keeper tell me."
Ruth was recovering rapidly.
"Yes," she laughed. "I told him it was nothing to do with him—strikes and riots and bloodshed!—Such an idea!"