Ragged Trousered Philanthropists/Chapter 30
CHAPTER XXX
The Beano
When the eventful day of the beano arrived, the hands were paid at twelve o'clock and rushed off home to have a wash and change.
The brakes were to start from the 'Cricketers' at one, but it was arranged for the convenience of those who lived at Windley that they were to be picked up at the Cross Roads at one-thirty.
There were four brakes altogether, three large ones for the men, and one small one for the accommodation of Mr Rushton and a few of his personal friends, Didlum, Grinder, Mr Toonarf, an architect, and Mr Lettum, a house and estate agent. One of the drivers was accompanied by a friend who carried a long coach horn. This gentleman was not paid to come, but being out of work, he thought that the men would be sure to stand him a few drinks and would probably make a collection for him in return for his services.
A brief halt was made at the Cross Roads to pick up several of the men, including Philpot, Harlow, Easton, Ned Dawson, Sawkins, Bill Bates and the Semi-Drunk. The two last named were now working for Smeariton and Leavit, but as they had been paying in from the first, they had elected to go to the beano rather than have their money back. The Semi-Drunk and one or two other habitual boozers were very shabby and down at heel, but the majority of the men were decently dressed. Some had taken their Sunday clothes out of pawn especially for the occasion. Crass, Slyme and one or two of the single men were in new 'secondhand' suits. Harlow's wife had cleaned up his old straw hat with oxalic acid, and Easton had carefully dyed the faded ribbon of his black bowler with ink.
The small brake with Rushton and his friends led the way, followed by the largest brake, with Misery in the front seat. Payne, the foreman carpenter, occupied the position of honour on the third brake, while Crass presided over the fourth, on the step of which was perched the man with the coach horn.
The mean streets of Windley were soon left far behind and the bean-feasters found themselves journeying along a sunlit, winding road bordered with hedges of hawthorn, holly and briar, past rich brown fields of standing corn, through lofty avenues of elms and oaks, over old mossy stone bridges, past thatched wayside cottages where the people waved their hands in friendly greeting, and the sunburnt children ran, cheering, behind the brakes, for the pennies the men threw to them.
From time to time the men made half-hearted attempts at singing, but it never came to much because most of them were very hungry. They had not had time for dinner and would not have taken any even if they had, for they wished to reserve their appetites for the banquet at the 'Queen Elizabeth' at half past three. However, they cheered up a little after the first halt at the 'Blue Lion', where most of them got down and had a drink. Two or three, including the Semi-Drunk, Ned Dawson, Bill Bates and Joe Philpot, had more than one and felt so much happier that shortly after they started off again sounds of melody were heard from their brake. But it was not very successful, and though after the second halt—about five miles further on—at the 'Warrior's Head' fitful bursts of singing arose from time to time from each of the brakes, there was no heart in it. It is not easy to be jolly on an empty stomach. Neither could they properly appreciate the scenes through which they were passing. They wanted their dinners, and that was the reason why this long ride, instead of being a pleasure, after a while became a weary journey which seemed as if it were never coming to an end.
The next stop was at the 'Bird in Hand', a wayside public house that stood all by itself in a lonely hollow. The landlord was a fat, jolly-looking man, and there were several customers in the bar, men who looked like farm labourers, but there were no other houses to be seen anywhere. This extraordinary circumstance exercised the minds of the travellers and formed the principal topic of conversation until they arrived at the 'Dewdrop Inn' about half-an-hour afterwards. The first brake, containing Rushton and his friends, passed on without stopping here. The occupants of the second brake, which was only a little way behind the first, were divided in opinion whether to stop or go on. Some shouted out to the driver to pull up, others ordered him to proceed, the rest were uncertain which course to pursue. Their indecision, however, was not shared by the coachman, who, knowing that if they stopped somebody would be sure to stand him a drink, drew rein at the inn, an example that was followed by both the other brakes as they drove up.
It was a very brief halt, not more than half the men getting down at all, and those who remained in the brakes grumbled so much at the delay that the others hastily drank their beer and the journey proceeded almost in silence. No attempts at singing, no noisy laughter; they scarcely spoke to each other, but sat gloomily gazing out over the surrounding country.
Instructions had been given to the drivers not to stop again till they reached the 'Queen Elizabeth,' and they therefore drove past the 'World turned Upside Down' without stopping, much to the chagrin of the landlord of that house, who stood at the door with a sickly smile on his face. Some of the men shouted out that they would give him a call on their way back, and with this he had to be content.
They reached the long desired 'Queen Elizabeth' at twenty minutes to four, and were immediately ushered into a large room where a round table and two long ones were set for dinner in a manner worthy of the reputation of the house.
The table-cloths and the serviettes, arranged fanwise in the drinking-glasses, were literally as white as snow. About a dozen knives, forks and spoons were laid for each person, and down the centre of the table glasses of delicious yellow custard and cut glass dishes of glistening red and golden jelly alternated with vases of sweet-smelling flowers.
Rushton, with Didlum and Grinder and his other friends, sat at the round table near the piano. Hunter took the head of the longer of the other two tables and Crass the foot, while on either side of Crass were Bundy and Slyme, who had acted with him as the committee who had arranged the beano. Payne, the foreman carpenter, occupied the head of the other table.
The dinner was all that could be desired.
There was soup, roast beef, boiled mutton, roast turkey, roast goose, ham, cabbage, peas, beans and potatoes, plum pudding, custard, jelly, fruit tarts, bread and cheese, and as much beer or lemonade as they liked to pay for, the drinks being an extra.
Everything was cooked to a turn, and although the diners were somewhat bewildered by the multitude of knives and forks, they all, with one or two exceptions, rose to the occasion and enjoyed themselves famously.
The turkeys, the roast beef and the boiled mutton, the peas and beans and the cabbage, disappeared with astonishing rapidity, which was not to be wondered at, for they were all very hungry from the long drive, and nearly everyone made a point of having at least one helping of everything and some of them went in for two lots of soup.
Crass frequently paused to mop the perspiration from his face and neck with his serviette, an example followed by many others. The beer was of the best, and all the time, amid the rattle of the crockery and the knives and forks, the proceedings were enlivened by many jests and flashes of wit which continuously kept the table in a roar.
'Chuck us over another dollop of that there "white stuff," Bob,' shouted the Semi-Drunk to Crass, indicating the blanc-mange.
Crass reached out his hand and took hold of the dish containing the 'white stuff,' but instead of passing it to the Semi-Drunk he proceeded to demolish it himself, gobbling it up quickly from the dish with a spoon.
'Why, you're eating it all yerself, yer swine,' cried the Semi-Drunk indignantly, as soon as he realised what was happening.
'That's all right, matey,' replied Crass, affably, as he deposited the empty dish on the table. 'It don't matter, there's plenty more where it come from. Tell the landlord to bring in another lot.'
Upon being applied to the landlord, who was assisted in the waiting by his daughter, two other young women and two young men, brought in several more lots and so the Semi-Drunk was appeased.
As for the plum pudding, it was unanimously voted a fair knock out, just like Christmas; but as Ned Dawson and Bill Bates had drunk all the brandy sauce before the pudding was served, the others all had to have their first helping without any. However, the landlord soon supplied the deficit, so that the incident passed off without unpleasantness.
As soon as dinner was over Crass rose to make his statement as secretary. Thirty-seven men had paid in five shillings each; that made nine pounds five shillings. The committee had decided that the three boys, the painter's boy, the carpenter's boy, and the front shop boy, should be allowed to come half-price; that made it nine pounds twelve and six. In addition to paying the ordinary five shilling subscription, Mr Rushton had given one pound ten towards the expenses (loud cheers), and several other gentlemen had also given something towards it:—
Mr Sweater, of 'The Cave,' one pound (applause).
Mr Grinder, ten shillings in addition to the five shilling subscription (applause).
Mr Lettum, ten shillings as well as the five shilling subscription (applause).
Mr Didlum, ten shillings in addition to the five shillings (cheers).
Mr Toonarf, ten shillings as well as the five shilling subscription.
They had also written to some of the manufacturers who supplied the firm with materials, and asked them to give something. Some of 'em had sent half-a-crown, some five shillings, some hadn't answered at all, and two of 'em had written back to say that as things is cut so fine nowadays they didn't get hardly no profit on their stuff, so they couldn't afford to give nothing. But out of all the firms they wrote to they managed to get thirty-two and sixpence altogether, making a grand total of seventeen pounds.
As for the expenses, the dinner was two and six a head, and there was forty-five of them there, so that came to five pounds twelve and six. Then there was the hire of the brakes, also two and six a head, five pounds twelve and six, which left a surplus of five pound fifteen to be shared out (applause). This came to three shillings each for the thirty-seven men, and one and fourpence for each of the boys. (Loud and prolonged cheers).
Crass, Slyme and Bundy now walked round the tables distributing the share out, which was very welcome to everybody, especially those who had spent nearly all their money during the journey from Mugsborough, and when the ceremony was completed, Philpot moved a hearty vote of thanks to the committee for the manner in which they had carried out their duties, which was accorded with acclamation. A collection was made for the waiters and the three waitresses, which amounted to eleven shillings, for which the host returned thanks on behalf of the recipients, who were all smiles.
Then Mr Rushton requested the landlord to serve drinks and cigars all round. Some had cigarettes and the teetotallers had lemonade or ginger beer. Those who did not smoke themselves took the cigar all the same and gave it to someone else who did. When all were supplied there suddenly arose loud cries of 'Order!' and it was seen that Hunter was upon his feet.
As soon as silence was obtained Misery said that he believed that everyone there present would agree with him when he said that they should not let that occasion pass without drinking the 'ealth of their esteemed and respected employer, Mr Rushton (hear, hear!). Some of them had worked for Mr Rushton hon and hoff for many years, and as far as they was concerned it was not necessary for him (Hunter) to say much in praise of Mr Rushton (hear, hear!). They knew Mr Rushton as well as he did himself, and to know him was to esteem him (cheers). As for the new hands, although they did not know Mr Rushton as well as the old hands did, he felt sure that they would agree as no one could wish for a better master (loud applause). He had much pleasure in asking them to drink Mr Rushton's 'ealth.
Everyone rose.
'Musical honours, chaps,' shouted Crass, waving his glass and leading off the singing, which was immediately joined in with great enthusiasm by most of the men, the Semi-Drunk conducting the music with a table knife:
'For he's a jolly good fellow,
For he's a jolly good fellow,
For he's a jolly good fell-ell-o
And so say all of us.
So 'ip, 'ip, 'ip 'ooray!
So 'ip, 'ip, 'ip 'ooray!
For 'e's a jolly good fellow,
For 'e's a jolly good fellow,
For 'e's a jolly good fel-ell-o
And so say all of us.'
'Now three cheers!' shouted Crass, leading off:
'Hip, hip, hip Hooray!
Hip, hip, hip Hooray!!
Hip, hip, hip Hooray!!!'
Everyone present drank Rushton's health, or at any rate went through the motions of doing so, but during the roar of cheering and singing that preceded it several of the men stood with expressions of contempt or uneasiness upon their faces, silently watching the enthusiasts or looking at the ceiling or on the floor.
'I will say this much,' remarked the Semi-Drunk as they all resumed their seats—he had had several drinks during dinner, besides those he had taken on the journey—'I will say this much, although I did have a little misunderstanding with Mr 'Unter when I was workin' at the Royal Caif, I must admit that this is the best firm that's ever worked under me.'
This statement caused a shout of laughter, which, however, died away as Mr Rushton rose to acknowledge the toast of his 'health. He said that he had now been in business for nearly sixteen years and this was, he believed, the eleventh houting he had had the pleasure of attending. During all that time the business had steadily progressed and had increased in volume from year to year, and he 'oped and believed that the progress made in the past would be continued in the future (hear, hear). Of course he realised that the success of the business depended very largely upon the men as well as upon himself. The masters could not do without the men, and the men could not live without the masters (hear, hear). It was a matter of division of labour; the men worked with their 'ands and the masters worked with their brains, and one was no use without the other. He 'oped the good feeling which had hitherto hexisted between himself and his workmen would always continue, and he thanked them for the way in which they had responded to the toast of his 'ealth.
Loud cheers greeted the conclusion of this speech, and then Crass stood up and said that he begged to propose the 'ealth of Mr 'Unter (hear, hear). He wasn't going to make a long speech as he wasn't much of a speaker (cries of, 'You're all right,' 'Go on,' etc.), but he felt sure as they would all hagree with him when he said that, next to Mr Rushton, there wasn't no one the men had more respect and liking for than Mr 'Unter (cheers). A few weeks ago when Mr 'Unter was laid up many of them began to be afraid as they was going to lose 'im. He was sure that all the 'ands was glad to 'ave this hoppertunity of congratulating him on his recovery (hear, hear), and of wishing him the best of 'ealth in the future and 'oping as he would be spared to come to a good many more beanos.
Loud applause greeted the conclusion of Grass's remarks, and once more the meeting burst into song:
'For he's a jolly good fellow,
For he's a jolly good fellow,
For he's a jolly good fellow,
And so say all of us.'
So 'ip, 'ip, 'ip ooray!
So 'ip, 'ip, 'ip ooray!'
When they had done cheering Nimrod rose. His voice trembled a little as he thanked them for their kindness, and said that he 'oped he deserved their good will. He could only say as he was sure as he always tried to be fair and considerate to heveryone (cheers). He would now request the landlord to replenish their glasses (hear, hear).
As soon as the drinks were served Nimrod again rose and said he wished to propose the 'ealths of their visitors who had so kindly contributed to their expenses—Mr Lettum, Mr Didlum, Mr Toonarf and Mr Grinder (cheers). They were very pleased and proud to see them there (hear, hear), and he was sure the men would agree with him when he said that Messrs Lettum, Didlum, Toonarf and Grinder were jolly good fellows.
To judge from the manner in which they sang the chorus and cheered, it was quite evident that most of the hands did agree. When they left off, Grinder rose to reply on behalf of those included in the toast. He said that it gave them much pleasure to be there and take part in such pleasant proceedings, and they were glad to think that they had been hable to 'elp to bring it about. It was very gratifying to see the good feeling that existed between Mr Rushton and his workmen, which was as it should be, because masters and men was really fellow workers—the masters did the brain work, the men the 'and work. They was both workers, and their interests was the same. He liked to see men doing their best for their master and knowing that their master was doing his best for them, that he was not only a master, but a friend. That was what he (Grinder) liked to see, master and men pulling together, doing their best, and realising that their interests was identical (cheers). If only all masters and men would do this they would find that heverything would go on hall right. There would be more work and less poverty. Let the men do their best for their masters and the masters do their best for their men and they would find that that was the true solution of the social problem, and not that there silly nonsense as was talked by people what went about with red flags (cheers and laughter). Most of those fellers were chaps who was too lazy to work for their livin' (hear, hear). They could take it from him that if hever the Socialists got the upper 'and there would just be a few of the hartful dodgers who would get all the cream, and there would be nothing left but 'ard work for the rest (hear, hear)! That's wot hall those hagitators was hafter: they wanted them (his hearers), to work and keep 'em in idleness (hear, hear). On behalf of Mr Didlum, Mr Toonarf, Mr Lettum and himself he thanked them for their good wishes, and hoped to be with them on a simler occasion in the future.
Loud cheers greeted the termination of this speech and when Grinder sat down many jeering glances were sent towards the corner of the table where Owen sat.
'What have you got to say to that?' they shouted. 'That's up against yer!'
'He ain't got nothing to say now.'
'Why don't you get up and make a speech?'
This last appeared a very good idea and there arose shouts of 'Owen!', 'Owen!', 'Come on 'ere; get up and make a speech,' 'Be a man!' and so on. Several of those who had been loudest in applauding Grinder joined in the demand that Owen should make a speech, because they were certain that the last speaker and the other gentlemen would be able to dispose of all his arguments. But Owen made no response except to laugh, so presently Crass tied a white handkerchief on a cane walking stick that belonged to Mr Didlum, and stuck it, amid roars of laughter, in the vase of flowers that stood on the end of the table where Owen was sitting.
When the noise had in some measure ceased, Grinder again rose. 'When I made those few remarks,' he said, 'I didn't know as there was any Socialists 'ere. I could tell from the look of you that most of you had more sense. At the same time I'm rather glad I said what I did, because it just shows you what sort of chaps these Socialists are. They're pretty hartful; they know when to talk and when to keep their mouths shut. What they like is to get 'old of a few ignorant workin' men in a workshop or a public-'ouse, and then they can talk by the mile—reg'ler shop lawyers, you know wot I mean—"I'm right and everybody else is wrong" (laughter). But when they finds theirselves in the company of edicated people wot knows a little more nor what they does theirselves, and who isn't likely to be misled by a lot of claptrap, why then, mum's the word. So next time you hears any of these shop lawyers' arguments, you'll know how much it's worth.'
Most of the men were delighted with this speech, which was received with much laughing and knocking on the tables. They remarked to each other that Grinder was a smart man; he'd got the Socialists weighed up just about right, to an ounce.
Then it was seen that Owen was on his feet facing Grinder, and a sudden silence fell.
'It may or may not be true, that Socialists always know when to speak and when to keep silent,' he said, 'but the present occasion hardly seemed a suitable one to discuss such subjects. We are here to-day as friends and want to forget our differences and enjoy ourselves for a few hours. But after what Mr Grinder has said I am quite ready to reply to him to the best of my ability.
'The fact that I am a Socialist and that I am here to-day as one of Mr Rushton's employees should be an answer to the charge that Socialists are too lazy to work for their living. And as to taking advantage of the ignorance and simplicity of working men and trying to mislead them with nonsensical claptrap, it would have been more to the point if Mr Grinder had taken some particular socialist doctrine and had proved it to be untrue or misleading, instead of adopting the method of making vague general charges that he cannot prove. Mr Grinder tells us that the employers work with their brains and the men with their hands. If it is true that no brains are required to do manual labour, why put idiots into imbecile asylums? Why not let them do some of the hand work for which no brains are required? As they are idiots they would probably be willing to work for even less than the ideal "living wage". If Mr Grinder had ever tried he would know that manual workers have to concentrate their minds and their attention on their work or they would not be able to do it at all. Neither can I agree with what he says about the masters being the "friends" of their workmen, because he knows as well as we do that no matter how good or benevolent an employer may be, no matter how much he might desire to give his men better conditions, it is impossible for him to do so, because he has to compete against other employers who would not adopt his methods. It is the bad employer, the sweating, slave-driving employer, who sets the pace for the others. If any employer to-day were to resolve to pay his workmen such wages as he would be able to live upon in comfort himself, and if he did not require them to do more work every day than he himself would like to perform, he would be bankrupt in a month.
'Mr Grinder tells us that the interests of masters and men are identical, but if an employer has a contract it is to his interest to get the work done quickly for the sake of his profits, but the sooner the job is done, so much the sooner will the men be out of employment. How can it be true then that their interests are identical?
'Again, let us suppose that an employer is, say, thirty years of age when he commences business, and that he carries it on for twenty years, and employs forty men more or less regularly during that period, and that their average age is also thirty years. At the end of the twenty years it usually happens that the employer has made enough money to enable him to live for the remainder of his life in ease and comfort. But what about the workmen? All through those twenty years they have earned but a bare living wage, and have had to endure such privations that those who are not already dead are broken in health.
'In the case of the employer there had been twenty years of steady progrees towards ease and leisure and independence. In the case of the majority of the men there were twenty years of deterioration, twenty years of steady, continuous sinking towards the scrap heap, the workhouse, and premature death. How can it be true to say that their interests were identical with those of their employer?
'Such talk as that is not likely to deceive any but children or fools. We are not children, but it is very evident that Mr Grinder thinks we are fools.
'At the same time it is quite true that the real interests of employers and workmen are the same, but not in the sense that Mr Grinder would have us believe. Under the existing system of society only very few people, no matter how wealthy they are, can be absolutely certain that they or their children will not eventually come to want, and even those who think they are secure themselves find their happiness diminished by the knowledge of the poverty and misery that surrounds them on every side.
'In that sense only is it true that the interests of masters and men are identical, for it is to the true interest of all, both 'rich and poor, to help to destroy a system that inflicts suffering upon the many and allows true happiness to none.'
Here Crass jumped up and interrupted, shouting out that they hadn't come there to listen to a lot of speechmaking, a remark that was greeted with unbounded applause by most of those present. Loud cries of 'Hear, hear!' resounded through the room, and the Semi-Drunk suggested that someone should sing a song.
The men who had clamoured for a speech from Owen said nothing, and Mr Grinder seemed very glad of the interruption.
The Semi-Drunk's suggestion that someone should sing a song was received with unqualified approbation by everybody. The landlord's daughter sat down at the piano, and the Semi-Drunk, taking his place at the side of the instrument and facing the audience, sang 'Down at the old Bull and Bush' with appropriate gestures, the chorus being rendered by the full strength of the company, including Misery, who by this time was slightly drunk with gin and ginger beer.
Crass next approached the piano and gave them 'Work Boys Work!', at the end of which three cheers were given for Tariff Reform and 'Plenty of Work.' Then Philpot was called upon to oblige, and received a great ovation when he stood up. Everybody liked Philpot, ''E never did no 'arm to nobody,' and was always ready to do a mate a good turn, and shouts of 'good old Joe!' were enthusiastically raised as he crossed over to the piano, and, in response to numerous requests for 'the old song,' gave them 'Won't you buy my pretty Flowers?'.
Dick Wantley, 'the man behind the moat,' sang 'Put me among the Girls' with many suggestive grimaces, after which Payne gave them 'I'm the Marquis of Camberwell Green.' He was ghastly pale and very nervous, but went through a lot of galvanic motions and gestures which were part of the business. During the song the audience maintained a frigid silence, which so disconcerted Payne that he stopped half-way and said he couldn't remember any more. But to atone for this failure he sang another called 'We all must die like the Fire in the Grate,' which annoyed the audience so much, that it was loudly suggested that if he couldn't do better than that the sooner he died the better.
This was followed by a Tory ballad with a chorus that all the men sang with great fervour:
'His clothes may be ragged, his 'and may be soiled,
But where's the disgrace if for bread he has toiled!
His 'art's in the right place, deny it who can
The back bone of England's the honest Working Man.'
After the concert the men strolled into the garden and some played skittles, some played quoits, some sat on the grass and watched the others, and some amused themselves drinking beer and playing shove ha'penny in the bar parlour. The time passed quickly enough and by half-past seven the brakes were loaded up again and a start made for the return journey.
They called at all the taverns on the road, and by the time they reached the 'Blue Lion' half of them were three sheets in the wind and five or six were very drunk, including the driver of Crass's brake and the man with the coach horn. The latter was so helpless that they had to let him lie down amongst their feet, where he fell fast asleep, while the others amused themselves by blowing weird sounds out of the horn.
There was an automatic penny-in-the-slot piano at the 'Blue Lion,' and as this was the last house on the road they made a rather long stay there, playing hooks and rings and shove ha'penny, drinking, singing, dancing and finally quarrelling.
Several of them seemed to fall foul of Newman. They made offensive remarks in his hearing, knocked his lemonade over, and a little later someone else collided violently with him just as he was in the act of drinking. Unfortunately most of the rowdy ones were his fellow-passengers in Crass's brake, and there was not much chance of getting a seat in either of the other carriages, which were overcrowded already.
Finally Dick Wantley shouted out that he was going to go for the dirty tyke who had offered to work underprice last winter. It was his fault they were all working for sixpence half-penny, and he was going to wipe the floor with him. Some of his friends eagerly offered to assist but others interposed, and for a time it looked as if there was going to be a free fight, the aggressors struggling hard to get at their inoffensive victim. Eventually, however, Newman found a seat in Misery's brake, squatting on the floor with his back to the horses, thankful enough to be out of reach of the drunken savages, who were now roaring out ribald songs and startling the countryside as they drove along with unearthly blasts on the coach horn.
Meantime, although none of them seemed to notice it, the brake was travelling at a furious rate, and swaying about from side to side. It should have been the last of the procession but things had got a bit mixed at the 'Blue Lion' and instead of bringing up the rear it had taken second place, just behind the small vehicle containing Rushton and his friends.
Crass several times reminded them that the other carriage was so near that Rushton must be able to hear every word that was said, and these repeated admonitions at length enraged the Semi-Drunk, who shouted out that they didn't care if he could hear. To hell with him!
'Damn Rushton, and you too!' cried Bill Bates, addressing Crass. 'You're only a dirty toe-rag! That's all you are! That's the only reason you gets put in charge of jobs, 'cos you're a good nigger driver! You're a bloody sight worse than Rushton or Misery either!'
'Knock 'im orf into the road,' suggested Bundy.
Everybody seemed to think this was a very good idea, but when the Semi-Drunk attempted to rise for the purpose of carrying it out he was thrown down by a sudden lurch of the carriage on top of the prostrate figure of the owner of the coach horn, and by the time he had got right end up he had forgotten all about the plan of getting rid of Crass.
Meanwhile Rushton and the other occupants of the little wagonette had been for some time shouting to them to moderate the pace of their horses, but as the driver of Crass's brake was too drunk to understand what they said, he took no notice, and they had no alternative but to increase their own speed to avoid being run down. The drunken driver now began to imagine that they were trying to race him, and became fired with the determination to pass them. It was a very narrow road, but there was just about room to pass, and he had sufficient confidence in his own skill with the ribands to believe that he could do it.
The terrified gesticulations and the shouts of Rushton's party only served to infuriate him. He stood up on the foot board and lashed the horses till they almost flew over the ground, while the brake swayed and skidded appallingly.
In front, the horses of Rushton's conveyance were also galloping at top speed, the vehicle bounding and reeling from one side of the road to the other, whilst its occupants, with panic-stricken faces, sat clinging to their seats and to each other, looking back with terror at their pursuers, who were encouraging the drunken driver and urging on the horses with curses and yells.
However, notwithstanding his frantic efforts, the driver was unable to overtake the smaller vehicle, and when the hill to Windley was reached he reluctantly abandoned the race, while Rushton and his friends, without waiting to say goodnight, drove off towards Mugsborough as fast as they could.
Crass's brake halted at the summit for the arrival of the others, and then amid shouts of 'good night!' and 'don't forget six o'clock Monday morning' the bean-feasters dispersed and the great event of the year was over.