by W. W. Jacobs
and polishedand the carpet swept. She had even altered the position of thefurniture. The table had been pushed against the wall, and the easy-chair, with its back to the window, stood stiffly confronting six orseven assorted chairs, two of which at least had been promoted from alower sphere.
"It's for the meeting," said Muriel, peeping in.
"Meeting?" repeated her father, in a dazed voice.
"Strike-meetings," was the reply. "Mrs. Gorman and some other ladies arecoming at four o'clock. Didn't mother tell you?"
Mr. Porter, staring helplessly at the row of chairs, shook his head.
"Mrs. Evans is coming," continued Muriel, in a hushed voice--"the ladywhat punched Mr. Brown because he kept Bobbie Evans in one day. He ain'tbeen kept in since. I wish you----"
She stopped suddenly, and, held by her father's gaze, backed slowly outof the room. Mr. Porter, left with the chairs, stood regarding themthoughtfully. Their emptiness made an appeal that no right-minded mancould ignore. He put his hand over his mouth and his eyes watered.
He spent the next half-hour in issuing invitations, and at half-pastthree every chair was filled by fellow-strikers. Three cans of beer,clay pipes, and a paper of shag stood on the table. Mr. Benjamin Todd,an obese, fresh-coloured gentleman of middle age, took the easy-chair.Glasses and teacups were filled.
"Gentlemen," said Mr. Todd, lighting his pipe, "afore we get on to thebusiness of this meeting I want to remind you that there is anothermeeting, of ladies, at four o'clock; so we've got to hurry up. O'course, if it should happen that we ain't finished----"
"Go on, Bennie!" said a delighted admirer. "I see a female 'ead peepingin at the winder already," said a voice.
"Let 'em peep," said Mr. Todd, benignly. "Then p'r'aps they'll be ableto see how to run a meeting."
"There's two more 'eads," said the other. "Oh, Lord, I know I sha'n't beable to keep a straight face!"
"H'sh!" commanded Mr. Todd, sternly, as the street-door was heard toopen. "Be'ave yourself. As I was saying, the thing we've got toconsider about this strike----"
The door opened, and six ladies, headed by Mrs. Porter, entered the roomin single file and ranged themselves silently along the wall.
"Strike," proceeded Mr. Todd, who found himself gazing uneasily into theeyes of Mrs. Gorman----"strike--er--strike----"
"He said that before," said a stout lady, in a loud whisper; "I'm sure hedid."
"Is," continued Mr. Todd, "that we have got to keep this--this--er--"
"Strike," prompted the same voice.
Mr. Todd paused, and, wiping his mouth with a red pocket-handkerchief,sat staring straight before him.
"I move," said Mrs. Evans, her sharp features twitching with excitement,"that Mrs. Gorman takes the chair."
"'Ow can I take it when he's sitting in it?" demanded that lady.
"She's a lady that knows what she wants and how to get it," pursued Mrs.Evans, unheeding. "She understands men--"
"I've buried two 'usbands," murmured Mrs. Gorman, nodding.
"And how to manage them," continued Mrs. Evans. "I move that Mrs. Gormantakes the chair. Those in favour--"
Mr. Todd, leaning back in his chair and gripping the arms, gazeddefiantly at a row of palms.
"Carried unanimously!" snapped Mrs. Evans.
Mrs. Gorman, tall and bony, advanced and stood over Mr. Todd. Strong menheld their breath.
"It's my chair," she said, gruffly. "I've been moved into it."
"Possession," said Mr. Todd, in as firm a voice as he could manage, "isnine points of the law. I'm here and--"
Mrs. Gorman turned, and, without the slightest warning, sat down suddenlyand heavily in his lap. A hum of admiration greeted the achievement.
"Get up!" shouted the horrified Mr. Todd. "Get up!"
Mrs. Gorman settled herself more firmly.
"Let me get up," said Mr. Todd, panting.
Mrs. Gorman rose, but remained in a hovering position, between which andthe chair Mr. Todd, flushed and dishevelled, extricated himself in allhaste. A shrill titter of laughter and a clapping of hands greeted hisappearance. He turned furiously on the pallid Mr. Porter.
"What d'you mean by it?" he demanded. "Are you the master, or ain'tyou? A man what can't keep order in his own house ain't fit to be calleda man. If my wife was carrying on like this----"
"I wish I was your wife," said Mrs. Gorman, moistening her lips.
Mr. Todd turned slowly and surveyed her.
"I don't," he said, simply, and, being by this time near the door, fadedgently from the room.
"Order!" cried Mrs. Gorman, thumping the arm of her chair with a large,hard-working fist. "Take your seats, ladies."
A strange thrill passed through the bodies of her companions andcommunicated itself to the men in the chairs. There was a moment's tensepause, and then the end man, muttering something about "going to see whathad happened to poor old Ben Todd," rose slowly and went out. Hiscompanions, with heads erect and a look of cold disdain upon their faces,followed him.
It was Mr. Porter's last meeting, but his wife had several more. Theylasted, in fact, until the day, a fortnight later, when he came in withflushed face and sparkling eyes to announce that the strike was over andthe men victorious.
"Six bob a week more!" he said, with enthusiasm. "You see, I was rightto strike, after all."
Mrs. Porter eyed him. "I am out for four bob a week more," she said,calmly.
Her husband swallowed. "You--you don't understand 'ow these things aredone," he said, at last. "It takes time. We ought to ne--negotiate."
"All right," said Mrs. Porter, readily. "Seven shillings a week, then."
"Let's say four and have done with it," exclaimed the other, hastily.
And Mrs. Porter said it.
