“I can’t help it. They’re crowding me.”
“The people are pushing and shoving as if they were crazy.”
“Did you ever see the like? You know what I think? Kalver Street ought to be as wide again as it is.”
“Yes, as wide again. The street’s too narrow.”
“That’s why everybody’s scroudging so.”
There was much truth in this. Pressure was high. People were mashed and squeezed together. Those who, by reason of a lack of avoirdupois, were less firmly attached to the ground, were lifted bodily. Walter hung suspended in mid-air and looked over the heads of men much taller than he.
“Are you walking on stilts?” asked a big fat woman, whose hips had come into collision with Walter’s knees. “Well, that’s something.”
The pressure was increasing. It seemed that the fat woman would soon have Walter on her shoulder, like a gun; while Walter was thinking that soon he would be roaming over the country like a knight. No one was looking at the candles now. People were finding their amusement in crowding and being crowded.
No, Kalver Street ought not to be widened. For, properly understood, this crowding and pushing and shoving was the nicest part of the whole business.
How tedious it would have been quietly to watch those two hundred and fifty thousand candles from some comfortable position.