The Burning Spear | Page 8

"Ah! We're in irons. You may as well walk 'ome, sir. It ain't two miles.
"No! no!" said Mr. Lavender. "We passed the Garden City a little way
back; I could go and hold a meeting. How long will you be?"
"A day or two," said Joe.
Mr. Lavender sighed, and at this manifestation of his grief his
sheep-dog redoubled her efforts to comfort him. "Nothing becomes one
more than the practice of philosophy," he thought. "I always admired
those great public men who in moments of national peril can still dine

with a good appetite. We will sit in the car a little, for I have rather a
pain, and think over a speech." So musing he mounted the car, followed
by his dog, and sat down in considerable discomfort.
"What subject can I choose for a Garden City?" he thought, and
remembering that he had with him the speech of a bishop on the subject
of babies, he dived into his bundle of literature, and extracting a
pamphlet began to con its periods. A sharp blow from a hammer on the
bottom of the car just below where Blink was sitting caused him to
pause and the dog to rise and examine her tiny tail.
"Curious," thought Mr. Lavender dreamily, "how Joe always does the
right thing in the wrong place. He is very English." The hammering
continued, and the dog, who traced it to the omnipotence of her master,
got up on the seat where she could lick his face. Mr. Lavender was
compelled to stop.
"Joe," he said, leaning out and down; "must you?"
The face of Joe, very red, leaned out and up. "What's the matter now,
sir?"
"I am preparing a speech; must you hammer?"
"No," returned Joe, "I needn't."
"I don't wish you to waste your time," said Mr Lavender.
"Don't worry about that, sir," replied Joe; "there's plenty to do."
"In that case I shall be glad to finish my speech."
Mr. Lavender resumed his seat and Blink her position on the floor, with
her head on his feet. The sound of his voice soon rose again in the car
like the buzzing of large flies. "'If we are to win this war we must have
an ever-increasing population. In town and countryside, in the palace
and the slum, above all in the Garden City, we must have babies.'"
Here Blink, who had been regarding him with lustrous eyes, leaped on
to his knees and licked his mouth. Again Mr. Lavender was compelled
to stop.
"Down, Blink, down! I am not speaking to you. 'The future of our
country depends on the little citizens born now. I especially appeal to
women. It is to them we must look----'"
"Will you 'ave a glass, sir?"
Mr. Lavender saw before him a tumbler containing a yellow fluid.
"Joe," he said sadly, "you know my rule----"
"'Ere's the exception, sir."

Mr. Lavender sighed. "No, no; I must practise what I preach. I shall
soon be rousing the people on the liquor question, too."
Well, 'ere's luck," said Joe, draining the glass. "Will you 'ave a slice of
'am?"
"That would not be amiss," said Mr. Lavender, taking Joe's knife with
the slice of ham upon its point. "'It is to them that we must look,'" he
resumed, "'to rejuvenate the Empire and make good the losses in the
firing-line.'" And he raised the knife to his mouth. No result followed,
while Blink wriggled on her base and licked her lips.
"Blink!" said Mr. Lavender reproachfully. "Joe!"
"Sir!"
"When you've finished your lunch and repaired the car you will find me
in the Town Hall or market-place. Take care of Blink. I'll tie her up.
Have you some string?"
Having secured his dog to the handle of the door and disregarded the
intensity of her gaze, Mr. Lavender walked back towards the Garden
City with a pamphlet in one hand and a crutch-handled stick in the
other. Restoring the ham to its nest behind his feet, Joe finished the
bottle of Bass. "This is a bit of all right!" he thought dreamily. "Lie
down, you bitch! Quiet! How can I get my nap while you make that
row? Lie down! That's better."
Blink was silent, gnawing at her string. The smile deepened on Joe's
face, his head fell a little one side his mouth fell open a fly flew into it.
"Ah!" he thought, spitting it out; "dog's quiet now." He slept.

III
MR. LAVENDER ADDRESSES A CROWD OF HUNS
"'Give them ginger!'" thought Mr. Lavender, approaching the first
houses. "My first task, however, will be to collect them."
"Can you tell me," he said to a dustman, "where the market-place is?"
"Ain't none."
"The Town Hall, then?"
"Likewise."
"What place is there, then," said Mr. Lavender,"