e--if you choose to apply for it?
You needn't smile. I don't want to see your teeth--I want an answer."

Horace admitted, with all needful gravity, that there was employment to
be had. The war between France and Germany, he remarked, was still going
on: the newspaper had offered to employ him again in the capacity of
correspondent.

"Don't speak of the newspapers and the war!" cried Lady Janet, with a
sudden explosion of anger, which was genuine anger this time. "I detest
the newspapers! I won't allow the newspapers to enter this house. I lay
the whole blame of the blood shed between France and Germany at their
door."

Horace's eyes opened wide in amazement. The old lady was evidently in
earnest. "What can you possibly mean?" he asked. "Are the newspapers
responsible for the war?"

"Entirely responsible," answered Lady Janet. "Why, you don't understand
the age you live in! Does anybody do anything nowadays (fighting
included) without wishing to see it in the newspapers? _I_ subscribe
to a charity; _thou_ art presented with a testimonial; _he_ preaches a
sermon; _we_ suffer a grievance; _you_ make a discovery; _they_ go to
church and get married. And I, thou, he; we, you, they, all want one and
the same thing--we want to see it in the papers. Are kings, soldiers,
and diplomatists exceptions to the general rule of humanity? Not they! I
tell you seriously, if the newspapers of Europe had one and all decided
not to take the smallest notice in print of the war between France and
Germany, it is my firm conviction the war would have come to an end for
want of encouragement long since. Let the pen cease to advertise the
sword, and I, for one, can see the result. No report--no fighting."

"Your views have the merit of perfect novelty, ma'am," said Horace.
"Would you object to see them in the newspapers?"

Lady Janet worsted her young friend with his own weapons.

"Don't I live in the latter part of the nineteenth century?" she asked.
"In the newspapers, did you say? In large type, Horace, if you love me!"

Horace changed the subject.

"You blame me for being out of spirits," he said; "and you seem to think
it is because I am tired of my pleasant life at Mablethorpe House. I am
not in the least tired, Lady Janet." He looked toward the conservatory:
the frown showed itself on his face once more. "The truth is," he
resumed, "I am not satisfied with Grace Roseberry."

"What has Grace done?"

"She persists in prolonging