had
to make up my mind which to follow, I have been forced by circumstances
to choose the easier way. This time, at least, my duty is quite plain.
I have work to do in London which I cannot neglect."

Elisabeth picked up the paper which she had set down the moment before.
Her eyes had been quick to appreciate the smothered fierceness of
Julia's gaze. At Maraton she did not glance.

"Well, I am sorry," Mr. Foley said. "You are a young man now, Maraton,
but one works the better for a change. I didn't come to talk shop, but
you've set a nice hornet's nest about our heads up in Sheffield."

"There are many more to follow," Maraton assured him.

Mr. Foley chuckled. His sense of humour was indomitable.

"If there is one thing in the Press this morning," he declared, "more
pronounced than the diatribes upon your speech, it is the number of
compliments paid to me for my perspicuity in extending the hand of
friendship to the most dangerous political factor at present
existent,--vide the _Oracle_. I've wasted many hours arguing with some
of my colleagues. If I had known what was coming, I might just as well
have sat tight and waited for to-day. I am vindicated, whitewashed.
Only the Opposition are furious. They are trying to claim you as a
natural member of the Radical Party. Shouldn't be surprised if they
didn't approach you to-day sometime."

Maraton smiled.

"The people I am in the most disgrace with," he observed, "are my own
little lot."

"That needn't worry you," Mr. Foley rejoined. "Our Labour Members are
not a serious body. The forces they represent are all right, but they
seem to have a perfectly devilish gift of selecting the wrong
representatives. . . . You'll be in the House this afternoon?"
Certainly!

"I shall be rather curious to see what sort of a reception they give
you," Mr. Foley continued. "You couldn't manage to walk in with me, I
suppose? It would mean such a headline for the _Daily Oracle!_"

Elisabeth glanced up from her paper.

"I am afraid, uncle," she remarked, "that _Punch_ was right when it said
that your sense of humour would always prevent your becoming a great
politician."

"Let _Punch_ wait until I claim the title," Mr. Foley retorted,
smiling. "No man has ever consented to be Premier who was a great
politician--in these days, at any rate. I doubt, even, whether our
friend Maraton would be a successful Premier. I fancy that if ever he
aspires so high, it will be to the Dictatorship