’It’ll have to be a gallant rush!  You would rather be outside, wouldn’t you, Miss.  Lord?  Here it comes:  charge!’

But the charge was ineffectual for their purpose.  A throng of far more resolute and more sinewy people swept them aside, and seized every vacant place on the top of the vehicle.  Only with much struggle did they obtain places within.  In an ordinary mood, Nancy would have resented this hustling of her person by the profane public; as it was, she half enjoyed the tumult, and looked forward to get more of it along the packed streets, with a sense that she might as well amuse herself in vulgar ways, since nothing better was attainable.  This did not, however, modify her contempt of Samuel Barmby; it seemed never to have occurred to him that the rough-and-tumble might be avoided, and time gained, by the simple expedient of taking a cab.

Sitting opposite to Samuel, she avoided his persistent glances by reading the rows of advertisements above his head.  Somebody’s ‘Blue;’ somebody’s ‘Soap;’ somebody’s ‘High-class Jams;’ and behold, inserted between the Soap and the Jam—­’God so loved the world, that He gave His only-begotten Son, that whoso believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.’  Nancy perused the passage without perception of incongruity, without emotion of any kind.  Her religion had long since fallen to pieces, and universal defilement of Scriptural phrase by the associations of the market-place had in this respect blunted her sensibilities.

Barmby was talking to Jessica Morgan.  She caught his words now and then.

’Can you tell me what is the smallest tree in the world?—­No, it’s the Greenland birch.  Its full-grown height is only three inches—­ positively!  But it spreads over several feet.’

Nancy was tempted to lean forward and say, ‘How do you know?’ But the jest seemed to involve her in too much familiarity with Mr Barmby; for her own peace it was better to treat him with all possible coldness.

A woman near her talked loudly about the procession, with special reference to a personage whom she called ‘Prince of Wiles.’  This enthusiast declared with pride that she had stood at a certain street corner for seven hours, accompanied by a child of five years old, the same who now sat on her lap, nodding in utter weariness; together they were going to see the illuminations, and walk about, with intervals devoted to refreshments, for several hours more.  Beyond sat a working-man, overtaken with liquor, who railed vehemently at the Jubilee, and in no measured terms gave his opinion of our Sovereign Lady; the whole thing was a ‘lay,’ an occasion for filling the Royal pocket, and it had succeeded to the tune of something like half a million of money, wheedled, most of it, from the imbecile poor.  ‘Shut up!’ roared a loyalist, whose patience could endure no longer.  ’We’re not going to let a boozing blackguard like you talk in that way about ‘er Majesty!’ Thereupon, retort of insult, challenge to combat, clamour from many throats, deep and shrill.  Nancy laughed, and would rather have enjoyed it if the men had fought.