“Equal to them,” said William. “Why, just think of the things they’ve got. They’ve got lots of money, haven’t they?—lots more than what we have, an’ they can buy anything they want, an’ they stay up for dinner always, and go out late at night, an’ eat what they want with no one sayin’ had they better, or cert’nly not, or what happened last time, an’ they smoke an’ don’t go to school, an’ go to the pictures, an’ they’ve got lots more things ’n we’ve got—bicycles an’ grammerphones, an’ fountain-pens, an’ watches, an’ things what we’ve not got. Well, an’ we’re ’uman beings, too, an’ we ought to be equal, an’ why shun’t we be equal?—an’ now’s the time for Action! They said so.”
... AN’ WE’RE ’UMAN BEINGS, TOO, AN’ WE OUGHT TO
BE EQUAL, AN’ WHY SHUN’T WE BE EQUAL?...”
There was a silence.
“But——” said Douglas slowly, “we can’t just take things, can we?”
“Yes,” said William, “we can if we’re Bolshevists. They said so. An’ we’re all Bolshevist Branches. They made me, an’ I made you. See? So we can take anything to make us equal. See? We’ve got to be equal.”
Here the meeting was stopped by the spectacle of the Senior Bolshevists issuing from the side door wearing frowns of stern determination. Douglas’s brother fingered his red tie ostentatiously; Ronald pulled down his cap over his eyes with the air of a conspirator; Jameson Jameson limped slightly and smiled patiently and forgivingly upon Robert, who was still apologising for William. The words that were wafted across to listening ears upon the Spring breeze were: “Next Tuesday, then.”
Then the Branches turned to a discussion of details. They were nothing if not practical. After about a quarter of an hour they departed, each pulling his cap over his eye and frowning. As they departed they murmured: “Next Tuesday, then.”
Next Tuesday dawned bright and clear, with no hint that it was one of those days on which the world’s fate is decided.
The Senior Bolshevists met in the morning. They discussed the possibility of getting into touch with Lenin, but no one knew his exact address, or the rate of postage to Russia, so no definite step was taken.