Billy laughed and touched his lip. “You’ll get as much as I will.”
“What’s that?”
“The fun. See? Now hike, and bring those benches over here.” He waved his doubled fist at them as if it were a club; and thirty or more hurried off laughing, and began to labor with the park benches which they set in semi-circular rows on the grass around a central bench between two torches, that was the speakers’ stand.
Coming on Sis Jones a moment later, Billy asked him to look after the bench brigade, which he did, crying out to Billy when he passed again, “Gee! This is work! Where’s the reward?”
“Where mine is,” Billy jeered. “Look at the girls; they’re doing half of the work.” He nodded to a dozen or more struggling by with the heavy seats, one bending alone under the weight of a short bench, and refusing help.
“Look at the strong Miss Kid!” shouted a small boy.
“The mighty suffragette!” another fleered.
The girls only laughed, straightened a little, and tugged on.
Some of the Kid’s followers caught Sis Jones, stripped off his coat, tied a girl’s hat on him with a scarf, threw a girl’s wrap over him, pulled off his shoes and socks, and dragged him forward into the circle of light, only to be themselves caught and lashed to trees farther back.
Billy and his helpers rushed about frantically. Redtop mounted his bench platform and tried to call the meeting to order; but the uproar increased, and after a moment of vain gesticulating for quiet he stepped down amid wildest cheers.