Itll have to be a gallant rush! You would rather be outside, wouldnt you, Miss. Lord? Here it comes: charge!
But the charge was ineffectual for their purpose. A throng of far more resolute and more sinewy people swept them aside, and seized every vacant place on the top of the vehicle. Only with much struggle did they obtain places within. In an ordinary mood, Nancy would have resented this hustling of her person by the profane public; as it was, she half enjoyed the tumult, and looked forward to get more of it along the packed streets, with a sense that she might as well amuse herself in vulgar ways, since nothing better was attainable. This did not, however, modify her contempt of Samuel Barmby; it seemed never to have occurred to him that the rough-and-tumble might be avoided, and time gained, by the simple expedient of taking a cab.
Sitting opposite to Samuel, she avoided his persistent glances by reading the rows of advertisements above his head. Somebodys Blue; somebodys Soap; somebodys High-class Jams; and behold, inserted between the Soap and the JamGod so loved the world, that He gave His only-begotten Son, that whoso believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. Nancy perused the passage without perception of incongruity, without emotion of any kind. Her religion had long since fallen to pieces, and universal defilement of Scriptural phrase by the associations of the market-place had in this respect blunted her sensibilities.
Barmby was talking to Jessica Morgan. She caught his words now and then.
Can you tell me what is the smallest tree in the world?No, its the Greenland birch. Its full-grown height is only three inchespositively! But it spreads over several feet.
Nancy was tempted to lean forward and say, How do you know? But the jest seemed to involve her in too much familiarity with Mr Barmby; for her own peace it was better to treat him with all possible coldness.
A woman near her talked loudly about the procession, with special reference to a personage whom she called Prince of Wiles. This enthusiast declared with pride that she had stood at a certain street corner for seven hours, accompanied by a child of five years old, the same who now sat on her lap, nodding in utter weariness; together they were going to see the illuminations, and walk about, with intervals devoted to refreshments, for several hours more. Beyond sat a working-man, overtaken with liquor, who railed vehemently at the Jubilee, and in no measured terms gave his opinion of our Sovereign Lady; the whole thing was a lay, an occasion for filling the Royal pocket, and it had succeeded to the tune of something like half a million of money, wheedled, most of it, from the imbecile poor. Shut up! roared a loyalist, whose patience could endure no longer. Were not going to let a boozing blackguard like you talk in that way about er Majesty! Thereupon, retort of insult, challenge to combat, clamour from many throats, deep and shrill. Nancy laughed, and would rather have enjoyed it if the men had fought.
At Westminster Bridge all jumped confusedly into the street and ran for the pavement. It was still broad daylight; the suna potentate who keeps no Jubileedropping westward amid the hues of summer eventide, was unmarked, for all his splendour, by the roaring multitudes.
Where are you going to leave us? Nancy inquired of her brother.
Charing Cross, or somewhere about there.
Keep by me till then.
Barmby was endeavouring to secure her companionship. He began to cross the bridge at her side, but Nancy turned and bade him attend upon Miss. Morgan, saying that she wished to talk with her brother. In this order they moved towards Parliament Street, where the crowd began to thicken.
Now let us decide upon our route, exclaimed Barmby, with the air of a popular leader planning a great demonstration. Miss. Lord, we will be directed by your wishes. Where would you like to be when the lighting-up begins?
I dont care. What does it matter? Let us go straight on and see whatever comes in our way.
Thats the right spirit! Let us give ourselves up to the occasion! We cant be wrong in making for Trafalgar Square. Advance!
They followed upon a group of reeling lads and girls, who yelled in chorus the popular song of the day, a sentimental one as it happened
Do not forget me, Do not forget me, Think sometimes of me still
Nancy was working herself into a nervous, excited state. She felt it impossible to walk on and on under Barmbys protection, listening to his atrocious commonplaces, his enthusiasms of the Young Mens Debating Society. The glow of midsummer had entered into her blood; she resolved to taste independence, to mingle with the limitless crowd as one of its units, borne in whatever direction. That song of the streets pleased her, made sympathetic appeal to her; she would have liked to join in it.
Just behind herit was on the broad pavement at Whitehallsome one spoke her name.
Miss. Lord! Why, who would have expected to see you here? Shouldnt have dared to think of such a thing; upon my word, I shouldnt!
A man of about thirty, dressed without much care, middle-sized, wiry, ruddy of cheek, and his coarse but strong features vivid with festive energy, held a hand to her. Luckworth Crewe was his name. Nancy had come to know him at the house of Mrs. Peachey, where from time to time she had met various people unrecognised in her own home. His tongue bewrayed him for a native of some northern county; his manner had no polish, but a genuine heartiness which would have atoned for many defects. Horace, who also knew him, offered a friendly greeting; but Samuel Barmby, when the voice caught his ear, regarded this intruder with cold surprise.
May I walk on with you? Crewe asked, when he saw that Miss. Lord felt no distaste for his company.
Nancy deigned not even a glance at her nominal protector.
If you are going our way, she replied.
Barmby, his dignity unobserved, strode on with Miss. Morgan, of whom he sought information concerning the loud-voiced man. Crewe talked away.
So youve come out to have a look at it, after all. I saw the Miss Frenches last Sunday, and they told me you cared no more for the Jubilee than for a dog-fight. Of course I wasnt surprised; youve other things to think about. But its worth seeing, thats my opinion. Were you out this morning?
No. I dont care for Royalties.
No more do I. Expensive humbugs, thats what I call em. But I had a look at them, for all that. The Crown Prince was worth seeing; yes, he really was. Im not so prejudiced as to deny that. Hes the kind of chap I should like to get hold of, and have a bit of a talk with, and ask him what he thought about things in general. Its been a big affair, hasnt it? I know a chap who made a Jubilee Perfume, and hes netting something like a hundred pounds a day.
Have you any Jubilee speculation on hand?
Dont ask me! It makes me mad. I had a really big thing,a Jubilee Drink,a teetotal beverage; the kind of thing that would have sold itself, this weather. A friend of mine hit on it, a clerk in a City warehouse, one of the cleverest chaps I ever knew. It really was the drink; Ive never tasted anything like it. Why, theres the biggest fortune on record waiting for the man who can supply the drink for total-abstainers. And this friend of mine had it. He gave me some to taste one night, about a month ago, and I roared with delight. It was all arranged. I undertook to find enough capital to start with, and to manage the concern. I would have given up my work with Bullock and Freeman. Id have gone in, tooth and nail, for that drink! I sat up all one night trying to find a name for it; but couldnt hit on the right one. A name is just as important as the stuff itself that you want to sell. Next morningit was SundayI went round to my friends lodgings, andhe slapped his thighIm blest if the chap hadnt cut his throat!