his head. But of England he had no conception save as a mere
geographical expression, a little bit of red on a map of Europe, a
vague place where certain sections of the population clamoured for-much
pay and little work. His dream was a parochial Utopia where the Irish
peasant, the Welsh farmer and the Scottish crofter should live in
luxury, and when these were satisfied, the English operative should
live in moderate comfort. The Little Englander, in his insensate
altruism, dreamed of these three nations entirely independent of
England, except in the trivial matter of financial support. He wanted
Australia, Canada, South Africa, to sever their links from him and take
up with America, Germany, Switzerland--anybody so long as they did not
interfere with his gigantic scheme for providing tramps in Cromarty
with motor cars and dissolute Welsh shepherds with champagne. As for
India, why not give it up to a benign native government which would
depend upon the notorious brotherly love between Hindoo and Mussulman?
If Russia, foolish, unawakened Russia, took possession of it, what
would it matter to the miner of Merthyr Tydvil? As for England,
provided such a country existed, she would be perfectly happy. The rich
would provide for the poor--and what did anyone want further? Paul took
up the Little Englander in his arms and tossed him in the air, threw
him on the ground and jumped upon him. He cast his mutilated fragments
with rare picturesqueness upon a Guy Fawkes bonfire. The audience
applauded vociferously. He waited with a gay smile for silence,
scanning them closely for the first time; and suddenly the smile faded
from his face. In the very centre of the third row sat two people who
did not applaud. They were Barney Bill and Jane.

He looked at them fascinated. There could be no mistake. Barney Bill's
cropped, shoe-brush hair was white as the driven snow; but the wry,
bright-eyed face was unchanged. And Jane, quietly and decently dressed,
her calm eyes fixed on him, was--Jane. These two curiously detached
themselves against the human background. It was only the sudden
stillness of the exhausted applause that brought him to consciousness
of his environment; that, and a heaven-sent fellow at the back of the
audience who shouted: "Go on, sonny!"

Whereupon he plucked himself together with a swift toss of the head,
and laughed his gay laugh. "Of course I'm going on, if you will let me.
This is only the beginning of what I'v