Mutimer looked on a tempest of savage faces--a sight which
might have daunted any man in his position. Fists were shaken at
him, curses were roared at him from every direction. It was clear
that the feeling of the mob was hopelessly against him; his
explanations were ridiculed. A second man was reared on others'
shoulders; but instead of speaking from the place where he was, he
demanded to be borne forward and helped to a standing on the cart.
This was effected after a brief struggle with Mutimer's supporters.
Then all at once there was a cessation of the hubbub that the new
speaker might be heard.
'Look at this man!' he cried, pointing at Mutimer, who had drawn as
far aside as the cart would let him. 'He's been a-tellin' you what
he did when somebody died an' left him a fortune. There's just one
thing he's forgot, an' shall I tell you what that is? When he was a
workin' man like ourselves, mates, he was a-goin' to marry a pore
girl, a workin' girl. When he gets his money, what does he do? Why,
he pitches her over, if you please, an' marries a fine lady, as took
him because he was rich--that's the way _ladies_ always chooses
their husbands, y'understand.'
He was interrupted by a terrific yell, but by dint of vigorous
pantomime secured a hearing again.
'But wait a bit, maties; I haven't done yet.
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