Some miners had just come from Slavin's, evidently bent on breaking up
the meeting, in revenge for the collapse of the dance, which Slavin
was unable to enjoy, much less direct. Craig was gallantly holding his
ground, finding it hard work to keep his men in good humour, and so
prevent a fight, for there were cries of 'Put him out! Put the beast
out!' at a miner half drunk and wholly outrageous.

The look of relief that came over his face when Craig caught sight of us
told how anxious he had been, and reconciled me to Mrs. Mavor's singing.
'Thank the good God,' he said, with what came near being a sob, 'I was
about to despair.'

He immediately walked to the front and called out--

'Gentlemen, if you wish it, Mrs. Mavor will sing.'

There was a dead silence. Some one began to applaud, but a miner said
savagely, 'Stop that, you fool!'

There was a few moments' delay, when from the crowd a voice called out,
'Does Mrs. Mavor wish to sing?' followed by cries of 'Ay, that's it.'
Then Shaw, the foreman at the mines, stood up in the audience and said--

'Mr. Craig and gentlemen, you know that three years ago I was known as
"Old Ricketts," and that I owe all I am to-night, under God, to Mrs.
Mavor, and'--with a little quiver in his voice--'her baby. And we all
know that for two years she has not sung; and we all know why. And what
I say is, that if she does not feel like singing to-night, she is not
going to sing to keep any drunken brute of Slavin's crowd quiet.'