A Mr. Mulliner tale, featuring his nephew, Archibald.

Archibald had an amazing talent. He could imitate a chicken almost better than chickens themselves. And the person who loved to hear this imitation was the love of his life, Aurelia Cammarleigh. This is what she wished he would come to her house and perform.

This request, however, was pre-empted by a conversation between Archibald and his butler, Meadowes. Meadowes, a member of the working class, was a proponent of the Coming Revolution in which all those pampered members of the Bourgeoise, who suppressed the Martyred Proletariat, would have their blood running in rivers down the curbs of the streets where they forced the masses to reside.

Archibald took this sympathetically. He wasn't aware of how he had suppressed the masses, but was interested in rectifying this problem. He told Aurelia he would have to give her a rain check for coming over to imitate chickens. He said he had to go give comfort to the Martyred Proletariat, whom he had inadvertently suppressed. Aurelia took umbrage and said that if he wanted to have anymore to do with her, that he had better show up at her place that night and imitate chickens until his eyes bubbled.

The call of the masses was louder and stronger. Archibald turned to go down to Bottleton East, where Meadowes said he would hear The Voice of the People.

He arrived at Bottleton East expecting to hear the moans of the masses, crying out from hunger for bread, and the tearful bemoaning of their plight reaching out for the help that Archibald would give them. Instead, it was more of a surprising air of gaity. Children played hopscotch on the sidewalks, milkmen delivered milk with cheer, and the general atmosphere was nothing like what Meadowes had described.

But, Archibald had come to relieve the suffering of the tortured masses, and he intended to do it if it took all night. He took a martyred child across the street to a baker and confectioner. The boy looked hungrily at the candies. Meadowes said the starving masses did not even have bread. So, Archibald bought a loaf of bread, handed it to the boy, and strode off too embarrassed to hear the boy's thank-you's.

What Archibald received was the loaf the boy threw at him, square in the back of the neck. Archibald grabbed the bread and, with bared teeth and flaming eyes, chased the boy. If the boy needed bread, as Meadowes had said, he was going to give this child the bread if he had to hold him with one hand and stuff it down his throat with the other.

Starvation must do something for the masses, Archibald reasoned, because the boy took off with a nippiness that left Archibald in the dust. He was in need of a drink now and turned into a public house to get refreshment.

The atmosphere of the pub was one of joviality. Archibald decided not to let the dubious disposition of the bread-child to sour his attitude toward the masses. No, he thought, the masses were all right. His heart again bled for them. He decided to stand them drink, since it was obviously a strain on their pocketbooks to pay for their beverages. He walked up to the shirt-sleeved man behind the bar and said "Set'em up."

There could be no greater mending of the rift between Archibald and the down-trodden masses than to pay for their drinks. The masses were content to drink their drinks and allow Archibald to instruct them on how the other half lived. He told them how to address a Duchess at an informal luncheon. All his utterings were received with assenting nods and the refilling of their glasses.

After a few hours of this camaraderie, Archibald felt it time to pay his bill and exit. He reached into his pocket only to find that his wallet was missing. Perhaps he left it back in the bakery/confectioner's after buying the bread. Nevertheless, he knew that as jovial as these members of the masses were, they would laugh at his oversight and let him put it on his tab. He told the shirt-sleeved man that he had left home without his cash and if he would present him with the bill, he would sign it and take care of it later.

What happened next Archibald cannot clearly paint. He swears the shirt-sleeved man turned into an octopus, grabbing his left arm, his right arm, his left leg, his right leg, and the seat of his pants - all at once. As he flew out into the streets, ricocheting off the pavement and several buildings, he thinks his life passed before him. As he rose he thought of how he had spurned the love of Aurelia just for the sake of doing some good for these tortured bounders, and he could have leaned against a lamp-post and wept.

He felt a sudden desire to go home. His unfamiliarity with Bottleton East posed a problem of just which direction home was. He asked a policeman which direction Piccadilly Circus was, and was told rather brusquely to move on. He noticed a feeling of hunger in his stomach and images of a large grilled steak danced about him. Having no money seemed to put a damper on this, though. He knew he had one item on his person that could be used for emergencies. The small portrait of Aurelia resided in a beautiful platinum case. He certainly could trade this for a steak dinner.

He turned into a pub and sat down at a table close to a disheveled man who was sleeping. After the steak dinner, Archibald felt such satisfaction as he pushed away his plate. It was about this time that the disheveled man caught sight of him and must have been one of those blokes who wake up cross, because this is what he was. He walked over to Archibald and stood over him.

He accused Archibald of having eaten a steak that, by rights, he had taken from the widow and the orphan. Archibald replied No, no. The man made fun of Archibald wearing a collar; nay, flaunting a collar. Archibald replied No, no. The man insisted that there would be a day when collars, like the men who wore them, would flow like blood down the streets. Streams of blood. Archibald asked him if he wouldn't mind keeping this clean so soon after dinner.

The man pointed to Archibald's plate and told him to go ahead and finish his dinner. Archibald replied that he had finished. The man said he had not eaten his fat. Archibald replied that he didn't eat fat. The man, gasping, said his mother always had him eat his fat. He pointed to Archibald's plate and screamed, "You eat that fat!" Archibald replied, "Well, really, I say..."

The crowd began chanting "Fat, fat, fat. You eat that FAT!" It was becoming quite rowdy and the shirt-sleeved manager came over to quiet things down when he looked at Archibald and gasped "You!" Archibald had inadvertently come back to the same pub where he originally stood the men drinks. The shirt-sleeved man then slowly and ominously stalked toward Archibald, rolling up his sleeves and spitting on his fists to ensure aim.

Here the proceedings end and the scene changes. We are now taken to Number 36a, Park Street, the home of Aurelia Cammarleigh who preparing for bed hears a familiar sound out in the streets. The sound was "charawk, charawk." A chicken was out in the streets. She ran to the window and looked out.

As Archibald serenaded her with "charawk, charawk," a policeman walked up and said, "What's all this?" He took Archibald by the coat and Archibald, not wanting to end his act until Aurelia appeared, smote the policeman a blow and freed his grasp.

"Archibald!" yelled Aurelia. She implored him to come inside for a spot. Archibald, now back in the hands of the constabulary and being led off, said he couldn't at this time because he was being pinched. The policeman assured him he could certainly get 14 days without the option, so Archibald told Aurelia that he would be detained for a spell and that he would see her in a fortnight.

She yelled out that she stilled loved him and, hearing in the distance a final "charawk," knew that he understood.