“Ay, by the Lord,” the Honourable Bob cried. “The revolution in France bred the whole of this trouble!”
“The mob there won, and the mob here know it. In my opinion,” Brereton continued, “conciliation is our only card, if we do not want to see a revolution.”
“Hang your conciliation! Shoot, I say!”
“What do you think, Mr. Vaughan?”
“I think with you, Colonel Brereton,” Vaughan answered, “that the only way to avoid such a crisis as has befallen France is to pass the Bill, and to set the Constitution on a wider basis by enlisting as large a number as possible in its defence.”
“Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!” from Flixton.
“On the other hand,” Vaughan continued, “I would put down the beginnings of disorder with a strong hand. I would allow no intimidation, no violence. The Bill should be passed by argument.”
“Argument? Why, d——n me, intimidation is your argument!” the Honourable Bob struck in, with more acuteness than he commonly evinced. “Pass the Bill or we’ll loose the dog! At ’em, Mob, good dog! At ’em! That’s your argument!” triumphantly. “But I’ll be back in a minute.” And he left them.
Vaughan laughed. Brereton, however, seemed to be unable to take the matter lightly. “Do you really mean, Mr. Vaughan,” he said, “that if there were trouble, here, for instance, you would not hesitate to give the order to fire?”
“Certainly, sir, if it could not be put down with the cold steel.”