The Irrepressible Small Boys Were Clustering Over The Slight Fence That Surrounded The Platform, Crawling Under It, Roosting On Top Of It, Squatting Round My Chair And Smiling Up At Me As If They Expected A Universal Pat On The Head.

The time for the meeting arrived, and with it a squad of reporters, who monopolised one table, all the chairs but one, and proceeded to make themselves at home, producing their pencils and note books in a business-like manner.

The crowd clustered at the back of the platform began to fling jokes from one to the other about penny-a-liners. Two policemen, one tall, blonde, pleasant featured, one short, dark and rosy-cheeked, arrived next with their note books and pencils. There were a few more policemen at the entrance gate into the field, one soldier standing carelessly on the road, an unconcerned spectator to all appearance.

Presently the straggling crowd began to concentrate round the platform. The women who were peeping into the tent and the men who were helping them forsook that pleasing occupation and made for the platform at a double quick trot. Many voices said, "yon's them." Looking along the road toward the town black with the coming crowd, I saw a waggonette drawn by four horses, gallant greys, coming along at a spanking pace.

The crowd around me disputed whether the driver was able to bring his four in hand safely through the rather narrow gate, which involved a sharp turn, but he did, and drew up inside with a flourish, to the great admiration of all.

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