"It is time some one came and helped us," said two pale-faced girls to me; and I asked: "Who will help?
Plenty of people wish well to any good cause; but very few care to exert themselves to help it, and still fewer will risk anything in its support.

'Some one ought to do it, but why should I ?' is the ever re-echoed phrase of weak-kneed amiability.
'Some one ought to do it, so why _not_ I ?' is the cry of some earnest servant of man, eagerly forward springing to face some perilous duty.
Between those two sentences lie whole centuries of moral evolution." I was promptly threatened with an action for libel, but nothing came of it; it was easier to strike at the girls, and a few days later Fleet Street was enlivened by the irruption of a crowd of match-girls, demanding Annie Besant.

I couldn't speechify to match-girls in Fleet Street, so asked that a deputation should come and explain what they wanted.

Up came three women and told their story: they had been asked to sign a paper certifying that they were well treated and contented, and that my statements were untrue; they refused.

"You had spoke up for us," explained one, "and we weren't going back on you." A girl, pitched on as their leader, was threatened with dismissal; she stood firm; next day she was discharged for some trifle, and they all threw down their work, some 1,400 of them, and then a crowd of them started off to me to ask what to do next.