Page 219 - down-and-out-in-paris-and-london

indignant ‘Hush!’ but it made no impression. We had set
ourselves to guy the service, and there was no stopping us.
It was a queer, rather disgusting scene. Below were the
handful of simple, well-meaning people, trying hard to wor-
ship; and above were the hundred men whom they had fed,
deliberately making worship impossible. A ring of dirty,
hairy faces grinned down from the gallery, openly jeering.
What could a few women and old men do against a hundred
hostile tramps? They were afraid of us, and we were frankly
bullying them. It was our revenge upon them for having hu-
miliated us by feeding us.
The minister was a brave man. He thundered steadily
through a long sermon on Joshua, and managed almost to
ignore the sniggers and chattering from above. But in the
end, perhaps goaded beyond endurance, he announced
loudly:
‘I shall address the last five minutes of my sermon to the
UNSAVED sinners!’
Having said which, he turned his face to the gallery and
kept it so for five minutes, lest there should be any doubt
about who were saved and who unsaved. But much we
cared! Even while the minister was threatening hell fire,
we were rolling cigarettes, and at the last amen we clattered
down the stairs with a yell, many agreeing to come back for
another free tea next week.
The scene had interested me. It was so different from the
ordinary demeanour of tramps—from the abject worm-
like gratitude with which they normally accept charity. The
explanation, of course, was that we outnumbered the con-

1 Down and Out in Paris and London