y, and risk it. Thursday, Crackamup." And he held out
his hand to Mr. Lavender. "Good morning, sir, good morning. Delighted to
have seen you. You wouldn't put your name to it? Well, well, it doesn't
matter; only you could have written it. The turn of phrase--immense!
They'll tumble all right!" And Mr. Lavender found himself, with Mr.
Crackamup, in the lobby. "It's bewildering," he thought, "how quickly he
settled that. And yet he had such repose. But is there some mistake?"
He was about to ask his companion, but with a distant hiccough the small
man had vanished. Thus deserted, Mr. Lavender was in two minds whether
to ask to be readmitted, when the four gentlemen with notebooks repassed
him in single file into the editor's room.

"My name is Lavender," he said resolutely to the young woman. "Is that
all right?"

"Quite," she answered, without looking up.

Mr. Lavender went out slowly, thinking, "I may perhaps have said more in
that interview than I remember. Next time I really will insist on having
a proof. Or have they taken me for some other public man?" This notion
was so disagreeable, however, that he dismissed it, and passed into the
street.

On Thursday, the day fixed for his fresh tour of public speaking,
he opened the great journal eagerly. Above the third column was the
headline: OUR VITAL DUTY: BY A GREAT PUBLIC MAN. "That must be it," he
thought. The article, which occupied just a column of precious space,
began with an appeal so moving that before he had read twenty lines
Mr. Lavender had identified himself completely with the writer; and if
anyone had told him that he had not uttered these sentiments, he would
have given him the lie direct. Working from heat to heat the article
finished in a glorious outburst with a passionate appeal to the country
to starve all German prisoners.

Mr. Lavender put it down in a glow of exultation. "I shall translate
words into action," he thought; "I shall at once visit a rural district
where German prisoners are working on the land, and see that the farmers
do their duty." And, forgetting in his excitement to eat his breakfast,
he put the journal in his pocket, wrapped himself in his dust-coat and
broad-brimmed hat, and went out to his car, which was drawn up, with
Blink, who had not forgotten her last experience, inside.

"We will go to a rural district, Joe," he said, getting in.

"Very good, sir," answered Joe; and, unnoticed by the population, they
glided into t