howling hubbub arose, a confused sound of booing and groaning, and the
carriage was soon surrounded by grimed men, gesticulating and shouting.

"Yer bloated parasites, yer!" cried a young fellow, catching at the
door-handle on Lord Fontenoy's side; "we'll make a d----d end o' yer
afore we've done wi' yer. Who asked yer to come meddlin in
Malford--d----n yer!"

"Whativer do we want wi' the loikes o' yo representin us!" shouted
another man, pointing at Tressady. "Look at 'im; ee can't walk, ee can't;
mus be druv, poor hinnercent! When did yo iver do a day's work, eh? Look
at my 'ands! Them's the 'ands for honest men--ain't they, you fellers?"

There was a roar of laughter and approval from the crowd, and up went a
forest of begrimed hands, flourishing and waving.

George calmly put down the carriage-window, and, leaning his arms upon
it, put his head out. He flung some good-humoured banter at some of
the nearest men, and two or three responded. But the majority of the
faces were lowering and fierce, and the horses were becoming
inconveniently crowded.

"Get on, Gregson," said Fontenoy, opening the front window of the
brougham.

"If they'll let me, your lordship," said Gregson, rather pale,
raising his whip.

The horses made a sudden start forward. There was a yell from the crowd,
and three or four men had just dashed for the horses' heads, when a shout