“I am secretary of the Union of which that firm’s men are a part, and I may add, the strongest Union in London. I am chairman of this committee, composed of that firm’s men. I did not seek the position, but was unanimously elected to it; therefore I claim that practically I am an employee of Monkton & Hope, and that no man here has a better right to speak for those employees—aye, or to stand up for them against oppression—than I have. And I will tell the man who interrupts me—I’ll tell him to his face—that I am not to be brow-beaten from the path of duty, by him, or by Mr. Sartwell either, as long as I retain the confidence of the men who put me here. I acknowledge no other masters. If you want to address this meeting, come up here on the platform and face it like a man, and not stand barking there like a dog. Let’s have a look at you.”
There was wild cheering at this. The fight was on, and the crowd was jubilant. This was the kind of talk they liked to hear.
Braunt smote young Marsten on the back and pushed him forward.
“Take oop the challenge, lad,” he cried. “Oop wi’ ye. I’ll follow ye, and give them some facts about the unemployed. We’ve got this meeting if we work it right. Oop wi’ ye, mate.”
Marsten went toward the platform, the crowd making way for him. Gibbons stood for a moment apparently surprised at this unexpected opposition, then walked back to his chair at the head of the committee. The good-natured gathering cheered when they saw the young man standing before them.
“Fellow-workingmen—” he began.
“Address the Chair,” admonished some one in the middle of the hall, whereat there was a laugh. Scimmins himself indulged in a sickly smile. The speaker reddened slightly, and in confused haste said:
“Mr. Chairman and fellow-workers——-”
The crowd cheered lustily, and it was some moments before Marsten could again get a hearing. A feeling of despair came over him as he stood before them. It was only too evident that they all looked upon the whole proceeding as a great lark, something in the way of a music-hall entertainment without the beer,—which was a drawback of course; but also without any charge for admission,—which was an advantage, for it left so much more cash to expend in stimulants after the fun was over. He wondered, as he looked at the chaffing jocular assemblage, whether he was taking too serious a view of the situation. There flashed across his mind a sentence he had heard in a lecture on socialism. “It is not the capitalist nor the government you have to conquer,” the lecturer had said, “but the workmen themselves.”
When the disorder had subsided so that his voice could be heard, Marsten went on: