"I call it
the 'Cadger's Arms,'" she explained, turning to Joan. "We bring our own
victuals, and Mary cooks them for us and waits on us; and the more of us
the merrier. You look forward to your Sunday evening parties, don't
you?" she asked of Mary.
Mary laughed. She was busy in a corner with basins and a saucepan. "Of
course I do, dearie," she answered. "I've always been fond of company."
There came another opening of the door. A little hairy man entered. He
wore spectacles and was dressed in black. He carried a paper parcel
which he laid upon the table. He looked a little doubtful at Joan. Mary
introduced them. His name was Julius Simson. He shook hands as if under
protest.
"As friends of Mary Stopperton," he said, "we meet on neutral ground. But
in all matters of moment I expect we are as far asunder as the poles. I
stand for the People."
"We ought to be comrades," answered Joan, with a smile. "I, too, am
trying to help the People."
"You and your class," said Mr. Simson, "are friends enough to the People,
so long as they remember that they are the People, and keep their proper
place--at the bottom.
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