The audience opened its mighty mouth and roared, then burst again into, For he’s a jolly good fellow! Arthur Branderton, when the tumult was subsiding, rose from his chair and called for more cheers. The object of all this enthusiasm sat calmly, with a well-satisfied look on his face, taking it all with his usual modest complacency. At last the meeting broke up, with cheers, and God save the Queen, and He’s a jolly good fellow. The committee and the personal friends of the Craddocks retired to the side-room for light refreshment.
The ladies clustered round Edward, congratulating him. Arthur Branderton came to Bertha.
“Ripping speech, wasn’t it?” he said. “I had no idea he could jaw like that. By Jove, it simply stirred me right through.”
Before Bertha could answer, Mrs. Mayston Ryle sailed in.
“Where’s the man?” she cried, in her loud tones. “Where is he? Show him to me.... My dear Mr. Craddock, your speech was perfect. I say it.”
“And in such good taste,” said Miss Hancock, her eyes glowing. “How proud you must be of your husband, Mrs. Craddock!”
“There’s no chance for the Radicals now,” said the Vicar, rubbing his hands.
“Oh, Mr. Craddock, let me come near you,” cried Mrs. Branderton. “I’ve been trying to get at you for twenty minutes.... You’ve simply extinguished the horrid Radicals; I couldn’t help crying, you were so pathetic.”
“One may say what one likes,” whispered Miss Glover to her brother, “but there’s nothing in the world so beautiful as sentiment. I felt my heart simply bursting.”
“Mr. Craddock,” added Mrs. Mayston Ryle, “you’ve pleased me! Where’s your wife, that I may tell her so?”