e got to tell you of the
Englishman who fouls the nest of England--who fouls the nest of all
that matters in the future history of mankind."

There was more applause. It was the orator's appeal to the mass. It set
Paul back into the stream of his argument. He forgot Barney Bill and
Jane, and went on with his speech, pointedly addressing the young,
telling them what England was, what England is, what Englishmen, if
they are true to England, shall be. It was for the young, those who
came fresh to life with the glories of England fresh in their memories,
from Crecy to the Armada, from the Armada to Waterloo, to keep the
banner of England flying over their topmost roofs.

It was a fighting, enthusiastic, hyperbolic speech, glowing, as did the
young face of the speaker, with the divine fire of youth. It ended
triumphantly. He sat down to an ovation. Smiles and handshakes and
words of praise surrounded him on the platform. Miss Winwood pressed
his hand and said, "Well done." The Princess regarded him with flushed
cheeks and starry eyes. It was only when silence fell on the opening
words of the Dean of Halifax that he searched the rows in front for
Barney Bill and Jane. They were still there. Impulsively he scribbled a
few lines on a scrap of paper torn from his rough notes: "I must see
you. Wait outside the side entrance for me after the meeting is over.
Love to you both. Paul." A glance round showed him an attendant of the
hall lurking at the back of the platform. He slipped quietly from his
seat by the Chairman's side and gave the man the paper with directions
as to its destination. Then he returned. Just before the Dean ended, he
saw the note delivered. Jane read it, whispered its contents to Bill
and seemed to nod acquiescence. It was fitting that these two dear
ghosts of the past should appear for the first time in his hour of
triumph. He longed to have speech with them, The Dean of Halifax was
brief, the concluding ceremonies briefer. The audience gave Paul a
parting cheer and dispersed, while Paul, the hero of the evening,
received the congratulations of his friends.

"Those are things that needed saying, but we're too cautious to say
them," remarked the Chairman.

"We've got to be," said Colonel Winwood.

"The glory of irresponsibility," smiled the Dean.

"You don't often get this kind of audience," Paul answered with a
laugh. "A political infants' school. One has to treat things in broad
splashes."

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