[III]
Shaking Hands with the Middle Ages
"Going to be a good meeting, don't you think?" chatted one of the men wearing a steward's button to a woman dressed in black, who sat in the front row of the little block of seats reserved for ladies, just below the platform.
She gave an indifferent glance round the hall.
"Yes," she acquiesced; "I suppose it is. I've never been to a political meeting before."
"Really?" said the steward blandly. "Quite an experience for you, then, with a Cabinet Minister coming!"
He hurried away, unaware of the touch of condescension that had jarred indescribably, and spoke in an eager undertone to a large stout gentleman who was inspecting tickets at the ladies' entrance.
"It's all right," he said officiously. "I've just been talking to her. She isn't one of them."
The stout gentleman looked over his shoulder. "Who? That one next my wife? Oh, no! She's not their sort. Besides, they all wear green or purple, or both. I'm up to their dodges by this time—just had to turn away quite a nice little girl in a green hat——"
"My sister!" observed the other. "Oh, it don't matter; I let her in by the side door, and it won't do her any harm. They've got so out of hand, some of these canvassers, since the general election."