'I'm glad you don't think me a fright. Oh!'—she turned at the sound of applause—'we're forgetting all about——'
A big sandy man, not hitherto seen, was rolling his loose-knit body up and down the platform, smiling at the people and mopping a great bony skull, on which, low down, a few scanty wisps of colourless hair were growing.
'If you can't afford a bottle of Tatcho,' a boy called out, 'w'y don't you get yer 'air cut?'
He just shot out one hand and wagged it in grotesque greeting, not in the least discomposed.
'I've been addressin' a big meetin' at 'Ammersmith this morning, and w'en I told 'em I wus comin' 'ere this awfternoon to speak fur the women—well—then the usual thing began.'
An appreciative roar rose from the crowd.
'Yes,' he grinned, 'if you want peace and quiet at a public meetin', better not go mentionin' the lydies these times!'
He stopped, and the crowd filled in the hiatus with laughter.
'There wus a man at 'Ammersmith, too, talkin' about Woman's sphere bein' 'Ome. 'Ome do you call it? 'Ome!' and at the word his bonhomie suffered a singular eclipse. '’Ome!' he bellowed, as if some one had struck him in a vital spot, and the word was merely a roar of pain. ''Ome! You've got a kennel w'ere you can munch your tommy. You got a corner w'ere you can curl up fur a few hours till you go out to work again. But 'omes! No, my men, there's too many of you ain't able to give the women 'omes fit to live in; too many of you in that fix fur you to go on jawin' at those o' the women 'oo want to myke the 'omes a little more deservin' o' the name.'
'If the vote ain't done us any good,' a man bawled up at him, '’ow'll it do the women any good?'