tess asked:

"When are you coming back again?"

"Before long, I hope, Lady Ogram. The pleasure of these two days--"

She interrupted him.

"Could you come down in a fortnight?"

"Easily, and gladly."

"Then do so. Don't go to Hollingford; your room will be ready for you
here. Just write and let me know when you will arrive."

In a few minutes, both men took their leave, and went back to
Hollingford together, driving in a fly which Breakspeare had ordered.
For the first minutes they hardly talked; they avoided each other's
look, and exchanged only insignificant words. Then the editor, with his
blandest smile, said in a note of sudden cordiality:

"It has been a great pleasure to me to meet you, Mr. Lashmar. May I,
without indiscretion, take it for granted that we shall soon be
fighting the good fight together?"

"Why, I think it likely," answered Dyce, in a corresponding tone. "I
have not _quite_ made up my mind--"

"No, no. I understand. There's just one point I should like to touch
upon. To-day we have enjoyed a veritable symposium--for me, I assure
you, a high intellectual treat. But, speaking to you as to one who does
not know Hollingford, I would suggest to you that our Liberal electors
are perhaps hardly ripe for such a new and bracing political
philosophy--"

Dyce broke into gay laughter.

"My dear sir, you don't imagine that I thought of incorporating my
philosophy in an electioneering address? Of course one must use common
sense in these matters. Practical lessons come before theory. If I
stand for Hollingford--" he rolled the words, and savoured them--"I
shall do so as a very practical politician indeed. My philosophical
creed will of course influence me, and I shall lose no opportunity of
propagating it: but have no fear of my expounding bio-sociology to
Hollingford shopkeepers and artisans."

Breakspeare echoed the speaker's mirth, and they talked on about the
practical aspects of the next election in the borough.

Meanwhile, Lady Ogram had sat in her great chair, dozing. Constance,
accustomed to this, read for half an hour, or let her thoughts wander.
At length overcoming her drowsiness, the old lady fixed a curious gaze
upon Miss Bride, a gaze of benevolent meditation.

"We shall have several letters to write to-morrow morning," she said
presently.

"Political letters?" asked Constance.

"Yes. By the bye, do you know anything about Lord Dymchurch?"

"Nothing at all."

"Then find ou