He did not need to say more. The fat was in the fire.
XIII. SPARKS FLYING
The fat crackled and sputtered. In thirty-six hours the business of the town was at a standstill, and by that time Mr. Bly had visited three other towns, and they too succumbed to his passion. At every town he visited he was welcomed with brass bands and red carpets, and his orders were obeyed. The Labour Agitators of the neighbouring countries desired his services and cabled for him, and he promised to go as soon as Jah was driven out of Fatland.
The strikes were begun in feasting and merrymaking, and things were done that delighted Mr. Nicodemus and the widow Martin’s heart:
“The men are becoming quite themselves again.”
And Mr. Nicodemus gazed upon it all and sighed:
“Ah! If only Hell were open!”
The widow Martin gazed upon him voluptuously and muttered:
“It would be just ’Eaven to keep that public you’re always talking about for ever and ever with you.”