Whilst seeing
that no customer lacked due attention, he conversed genially with a
group of his special friends. One of these had been present at a
meeting held on Clerkenwell Green that morning, a meeting assembled
to hear Richard Mutimer. Richard, a year having passed since his
temporary eclipse, was once more prominent as a popular leader. He
was addressing himself to the East End especially, and had a scheme
to propound which, whatever might be its success or the opposite,
kept him well before the eyes of men.
'What's all this 'ere about?' cried one of the group in an
impatiently contemptuous tone. 'I can't see nothin' in it myself.'
'I can see as he wants money,' observed another, laughing. 'There's
a good many ways o' gettin' money without earnin' it, particular if
you've got a tongue as goes like a steam engine.'
'I don't think so bad of him as all that,' said the man who had
attended the meeting. ''Tain't for himself as he wants the money.
What do _you_ think o' this 'ere job, Dan?'
'I'll tell you more about that in a year's time,' replied Dabbs,
thrusting his fingers into his waistcoat pockets. ''Cording to Mike,
we're all goin' to be rich before we know it. Let's hope it'll come
true.'
He put his tongue in his cheek and let his eye circle round the
group.
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