“Stop a moment, Simeon Slee,” said Mrs Glaire, quickly; and a dead silence fell on the crowd, as her clear, sharp voice was heard. “When I was young, I was taught to look a home first. Now, tell me this—before you began to put matters straight for others, did you make things right at home?”
There was a laugh ran through the crowd at this; but shaken, not daunted, the orator exclaimed—
“Oh, come, that wean’t do for me, Mrs Glaire, ma’am—that’s begging of the question. What I want to know is—”
“And what I want to know is,” cried Mrs Glaire, interrupting, “whether, before you came out here leading these men into mischief, you provided your poor wife with a dinner?”
“Hear, hear,”—“That’s a good one,”—“Come down, Sim,”—“The Missus is too much for ye!” were amongst the shouts that arose on all sides, mingled with roars of laughter; and Sim Slee’s defeat was completed by Harry, the big hammerman, who, incited thereto by Banks, shouted—
“Three more cheers for the Missus!” These were given, and three more, and three more after that, the workmen forgetting for the time being the object they had in view in the defeat of Simeon Slee, who, vainly trying to make himself heard from the hill of old metal, was finally pulled down and lost in the crowd, while now, in a trembling voice, Mrs Glaire said—
“My men, I can’t tell you how sorry I am to find you fighting against the people who supply you with the work by which you live.”
“Not again you, Missus,” cried half a dozen.
“Yes, against me and my son—the son of your old master,” said Mrs Glaire, gathering strength as she proceeded.
“You come back agen, and take the wucks, Missus,” roared Harry. “Things was all raight then.”