the presence of what I feel to be an infringement of the rights of free
people. I venture very humbly to protest against this injustice, and to
say that this gentleman has a right to be heard."

An even more intense silence fell upon the people. The Rector stood
speechless, gazing upon the little woman who had thus broken every
tradition of the community in lifting her voice in a public assembly and
who had dared to challenge the authority of one who for nearly twenty
years had been recognised as the autocrat of the village and of the
whole countryside. But the Rector was an alert and gallant fighter. He
quickly recovered his poise.

"If Mrs. Gwynne, our good friend and neighbour, desires to address this
meeting," he said with a courteous and elaborate bow, "and I am sure by
training and tradition she is quite capable of doing so, I am confident
that all of us will be delighted to listen to her. But the question in
hand is not quite so simple as she imagines. It is--"

"Liberty of speech," said the voice again from the dark corner.

The Rector wheeled fiercely in the direction from which the interruption
came.

"Who speaks," he cried; "why does he shrink into the darkness? Let him
come forth."

Again discretion held the interrupter silent.

"As for you--you, sir," continued the Rector, turning upon the
evangelist, "if you desire--"