Whether it was that the bucolic mind moved too slowly to keep pace with the orator's flying periods, or that the townsmen from London and the North were spell-bound by his fervid eloquence, or simply that the growing heat of the hall induced lethargy; certain it is that the meeting was quite orderly and decorous during the great speech. Not until the chairman was again on his feet did trouble arise, and that was due to a simple question put by Eves. But we must go back a little.
When Eves descended into the furnace room, and released the stoker, he stripped off coat, waistcoat and collar, rolled up his shirt-sleeves, and started energetically upon his self-assumed task. Hardly two minutes had elapsed when he heard a rasping voice behind him.
"That's the way. Keep it going steady, my man. There's a thermometer on the wall just inside the hall; run up every now and again and take a look at it: never let it drop below 60°."
"Ay sure," said Eves, counterfeiting the local brogue, and Noakes, who had been standing on the bottom step, went away gratified that his orders were being carried out so well.
"Not below 60°!" said Eves under his breath. "Sixteen degrees to go! Well, it's a long, long way to Tipperary, but my heart is there!" And he ladled coal and coke into the furnace with the fresh enthusiasm of an amateur.
It occurred to him that if he was to slip up into the hall for the purpose of examining the thermometer it would be just as well to look the part he was playing. So he smeared his face and arms, and what was visible of his shirt, with coal dust, much assisted by the dampness of his perspiring skin.
He paid his first visit to the thermometer just as the meeting opened. It hung on the wall near a group of Tommies who had been unable to obtain seats. They eyed him with a certain humorous sympathy. The thermometer registered 62°.
During the hour-long oration Eves was up and down several times, noting with satisfaction that the mercury was steadily rising, yet a little doubtful whether it would reach the critical point before the close of the meeting. He noticed towards the end of the hour that the heat was telling on some members of the audience. Women were fanning themselves; two or three plethoric farmers had fallen asleep: all the Tommies had unbuttoned their tunics. "Some fug, mate!" one of them remarked in a stage whisper. Eves only smiled in answer; he had seen that the mercury now touched 74°, and having stoked up the furnace to its full capacity, was satisfied that he could do no more, and stood among the soldiers.
The great speech ended in wild and whirling words: the speaker sat down amid applause, and Noakes arose.
"Now, my friends, we've heard a terrible fine speech, that we have, and I agree with every word of it. Afore I call upon our candidate—he'll be our member to-morrow—to propose a vote of thanks to our comrade, I've a thing or two to say for to bring it home to the hearts o' the men and women o' Pudlington. Capitalism, as he truly said, is the deadly poison as is driving a nail into the roots o' the nation: I couldn't say better nor that. Well, then, neighbours all, what I do say is, don't 'ee go and vote for no capitalist as belongs to a covey of profiteers, birds of prey as peck out the vitals o' the widder and the orphan. Ah, neighbours! my heart bleeds as I think o' the poor lone widder woman as pays dear for her bread, and can't get no cheese, scraping to pay the rate collector as he——"