long silences. Until, at last, one cheeky ragamuffin had piped out:

"Please, Miss, have you got red hair all over you? Or only on your
head?"

For answer she had rolled up her sleeve, and let them examine her arm.
And then, in her turn, had insisted on rolling up his sleeve, revealing
the fact that his arms above the wrists had evidently not too recently
been washed; and the episode had ended in laughter and a babel of shrill
voices. And, at once, they were a party of chums, discussing matters
together.

They were but children, these tired men and women, just released from
their day's toil, hastening homeward to their play, or to their evening
tasks. A little humour, a little understanding, a recognition of the
wonderful likeness of us all to one another underneath our outward
coverings was all that was needed to break down the barrier, establish
comradeship. She stood aside a moment to watch them streaming by. Keen,
strong faces were among them, high, thoughtful brows, kind eyes; they
must learn to think, to speak for themselves.

She would build again the Forum. The people's business should no longer
be settled for them behind lackey-guarded doors. The good of the farm
labourer should be determined not exclusively by the squire and his
relations. The man with the hoe, the man with the bent back and the
patient ox-like eyes: he, too, should be invited to the Council board.
Middle-class domestic problems should be solved not solely by fine
gentlemen from Oxford; the wife of the little clerk should be allowed her
say. War or peace, it should no longer be regarded as a question
concerning only the aged rich. The common people--the cannon fodder, the