“Yes! and you’ll never be able to get rid of ’em, mate,” cried Crass, triumphantly—and the man with the copper wire stitches in his boot said that it couldn’t be done.
“Well, we mean to have a good try, anyhow,” said Barrington.
Crass and most of the others tried hard to think of something to say in defence of the existing state of affairs, or against the proposals put forward by the lecturer; but finding nothing, they maintained a sullen and gloomy silence. The man with the copper wire stitches in his boot in particular appeared to be very much upset; perhaps he was afraid that if the things advocated by the speaker ever came to pass he would not have any boots at all. To assume that he had some such thought as this, is the only rational way to account for his hostility, for in his case no change could have been for the worse unless it reduced him to almost absolute nakedness and starvation.
To judge by their unwillingness to consider any proposals to alter the present system, one might have supposed that they were afraid of losing something, instead of having nothing to lose—except their poverty.
It was not till the chairman had made several urgent appeals for more questions that Crass brightened up: a glad smile slowly spread over and illuminated his greasy visage: he had at last thought of a most serious and insurmountable obstacle to the establishment of the Co-operative Commonwealth.
“What,” he demanded, in a loud voice, “what are you goin’ to do, in this ’ere Socialist Republic of yours, with them wot WON’T WORK!”
As Crass flung this bombshell into the Socialist camp, the miserable, ragged-trousered crew around him could scarce forbear a cheer; but the more intelligent part of the audience only laughed.
“We don’t believe that there will be any such people as that,” said Barrington.
“There’s plenty of ’em about now, anyway,” sneered Crass.
“You can’t change ’uman nature, you know,” cried the man behind the moat, and the one who had the copper wire stitches in his boot laughed scornfully.