Then came the chorus:
Hear ther truth our tongues are telling,
Spread ther light from shore to shore--
Oh, be faithful! Oh, be truthful!
Earth is flat for evermore.
They sang several verses with the fervour of Christians awaiting their lions. Then there were growlings in the air. The sexton, embraced by the landlord, two-stepped out of the pub-door. Each was trying to outroar the other. 'Apologising in advarnce for what he says,' the landlord shouted: 'You'd better go away' (here the sexton began to speak words). 'This isn't the time nor yet the place for--for any more o' this chat.'
The crowd thickened. I saw the village police-sergeant come out of his cottage buckling his belt.
'But surely,' said the woman at the harmonium, 'there must be some mistake. We are not suffragettes.'
'Damn it! They'd be a change,' cried the sexton. 'You get out of this! Don't talk! I can't stand it for one! Get right out, or we'll font you!'
The crowd which was being recruited from every house in sight echoed the invitation. The sergeant pushed forward. A man beside the reading-desk said: 'But surely we are among dear friends and sympathisers. Listen to me for a moment.'