not rise again."

"Arnold," remarked Mr. Jacks, with good humour, "you are quite
incapable of understanding this question. We shall see. Mr. Gladstone's
Bill----"

"Mr. Gladstone's _little_ Bill--do say his _little_ Bill."

"Arnold, you are too absurd!" exclaimed the hostess mirthfully.

"What does your father think?" Mr. Jacks inquired of their guest. "Has
he broken silence on the subject?"

"I think not. He never says a word about politics."

"The little Bill hasn't a chance," cried Arnold. "Your majority is
melting away. You, of course, will stand by the old man, but that is
chivalry, not politics. You don't know what a picturesque figure you
make, sir; you help me to realise Horatius Codes, and that kind of
thing."

John Jacks laughed heartily at his own expense, but his wife seemed to
think the jest unmannerly. Home Rule did not in the least commend
itself to her sedate, practical mind, but she would never have
committed such an error in taste as to proclaim divergence from her
husband's views.

"It is a most difficult and complicated question," she said, addressing
herself to Otway. "The character of the people makes it so; the Irish
are so sentimental."

Upon the young man's ear this utterance fell strangely; it gave him a
little shock, and he could only murmur some commonplace of assent. With
men, Piers had plenty of moral courage, but women daunted him.

"I heard a capital idea last night," resumed Arnold Jacks, "from a man
I was dining with--interesting fellow called Hannaford. He suggested
that Ireland should be made into a military and naval depot--used
solely for that purpose. The details of his scheme were really very
ingenious. He didn't propose to exterminate the natives----"

John Jacks interrupted with hilarity, which his son affected to resent:
the look exchanged by the two making pleasant proof of how little their
natural affection was disturbed by political and other differences. At
the name of Hannaford, Otway had looked keenly towards the speaker.

"Is that Lee Hannaford?" he asked. "Oh, I know him. In fact, I'm living
in his house just now."

Arnold was interested. He had only the slightest acquaintance with
Hannaford, and would like to hear more of him.

"Not long ago," Piers responded, "he was a teacher of chemistry at
Geneva--I got to know him there. He seems to speak half a dozen
languages in perfection; I believe he was born in Switzerland. His
house down in Surrey is a mu