He got upon a chair, not far from where
George sat, but refused to go upon the platform. "No, thank yer my
friends, I'm best down here; up there's the place for the gentlefolk,
the clever uns, them as buy grey mares!"--(roars of laughter)--"but,
Mr. Chairman, with your permission"--and here Bill put his had upon
his chest and made a most profound bow to the chair, which caused
more laughter--"there is just one question I should like to ask--not
about the grey mare, sir"--(roars of laughter again)--"but I see a
young gentleman here beknown to us all"--(points to George)--"and I
should just like to ask him, does his mother-in-law--not his mother,
you observe, sir--does his mother-in-law know he's out?" Once more
there was an explosion, for Mr. Broad's refusal to take part in the
contest was generally ascribed to Mrs. Broad. George sat still for a
moment, hardly realising his position, and then the blood rose to his
head; up crashed across the forms, and before the grin had settled
into smoothness on Bill's half-intoxicated features there was a grip
like that of a giant on his greasy coat collar; he was dragged amidst
shouts and blows to the door, George nothing heeding, and dismissed
with such energy that he fell prostrate on the pavement.
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