Joe knew it, and was only provoked to increased aggressiveness.
"Go on, ma lad!" he would roar from the back of the hall. "Yon's the road to revolution aw reet!"
There came a climax at a meeting in the Institute, Old Town. Joe at question time had proved himself unusually bland and provocative. The stewards had tried to put him out; and there had been a rough and tumble in the course of which somebody had hit the engineer a crack on the head from behind with the handle of a motor-car. Joe dropped; and Ernie stood over him in the ensuing scuffle. The news that there was trouble drew a little crowd. Ruth, on her evening marketings in Church Street, looked in. She found Joe sitting up against the wall, dazed; and Ernie kneeling beside him and having words with Stanley Bessemere, who was strolling towards the door.
"Brought his troubles on his own head," said the young member casually.
"Hit a man from behind!" retorted Ernie, quiet but rather white. "English, ain't it?"
"It was your own brother, then!" volunteered an onlooker.
Joe rallied, rubbed his head, looked up, saw Ruth and reassured her.
"A'm maself," he said.
He rose unsteadily on Ernie's arm.
"He must come home along of us," said Ruth.