“Obviously,” replied the girl, delighted at the importance of her task, “obviously, your work will be to organise.”
“Organise what?”
“Meetings of working men to take up the idea, discussion in the halfpenny papers, argument in workshops. In this way,” she said, with her engaging frankness, “in this way, you see, you could strengthen my uncle’s hands.”
“Not sure that that is the one desire of my life.”
“I am so clumsy,” deplored Lady Frances.
“Not more than most people.”
“If you would only see my uncle and argue it out! He, I am sure, would succeed where I,” with a sigh, “where I so horribly fail.”
“Look here,” said Erb, hastily, “if it’s any satisfaction to you, I’ll say at once that I’m with the movement, heart, body, and soul.”
Lady Frances took his big hand and patted it thankfully.
“Can’t tell you how pleased I am,” she declared. “I’ll send on all the circulars and figures and things when I reach Eaton Square to-night—(Children, children, you are tiresome, really)—and then you can start work directly, can’t you?”