ll of them, and it's mighty little good is ever said of
them or their like."

"Quite so," said Meldon. "So you do your best to get this one out of
Ballymoy."

CHAPTER XV.

Meldon, although he still kept Doyle's bicycle, did not arrive at
Portsmouth Lodge until after eight o'clock. Major Kent had waited
dinner for him, and was therefore, as even the best men are under such
circumstances, in a very bad temper. When Meldon walked into the study
he was sitting with _The Times_ spread out on his knee.

"I have had," said Meldon, "a long and particularly exhausting kind of
day. I didn't get much lunch with the judge at Donard, and although I
had a cup of tea with Sabina Gallagher at the hotel, I had so much to
say to her that I didn't eat much. I hope dinner's ready."

"Dinner," growled the Major, "has been ready for more than an hour."

"Good," said Meldon. "I'm certainly ready for it. Come on."

"I wish to goodness," said the Major, rising, "that you'd occasionally
try to be in time for a meal."

"There's no use wishing that. I won't. It's a matter of principle
with me. I regard punctuality as the vice of little minds. Time is
meant to be the servant, not the master of--"

"Don't begin a tirade," said the Major, "but let us get at what's left
of our dinner. There won't be much, and what there is will be charred."

"Wait a minute," said Meldon. "I don't deny that I'm hungry and tired,
but I'd rather ride all the way back to Donard than sit down at table
with you in the temper you're in at present."

"It'll be worse," said the Major, "if I'm kept waiting any longer. And
I know what your tirades are. If you start on a vague sort of subject
like time you'll be at it for an hour before you've finished."

"Very well," said Meldon. "As a matter of fact, what I wanted to say
wouldn't have taken five minutes, and I could have said it while you
were ladling out the soup. But if you'd rather gorge down your food
like a wild beast in a cavern without the civilising accompaniment of
intellectual conversation, you can. I shan't mind. I may perhaps say,
however, that everybody doesn't share your tastes. Sir Gilbert
Hawkesby welcomed what I had to say about Milton at lunch to-day, and
showed that he'd not only read 'Samson Agonistes,' but--"

"The dinner is spoiled, any way," said the Major. "I suppose another
hour won't make it any worse. Will you be able to finish that
disquisition in an hour, d