of our having to earn our living. A hundred and fifty a year would
deliver us from evil."

"Would there not still be the diamond dog-collar and the motor car left
to tempt us?" suggested Madge.

"Only the really wicked," contended Flossie. "It would classify us. We
should know then which were the sheep and which the goats. At present
we're all jumbled together: the ungodly who sin out of mere greed and
rapacity, and the just men compelled to sell their birthright of fine
instincts for a mess of meat and potatoes."

"Yah, socialist," commented Madge, who was busy with the tea things.

Flossie seemed struck by an idea.

"By Jove," she exclaimed. "Why did I never think of it. With a red flag
and my hair down, I'd be in all the illustrated papers. It would put up
my price no end. And I'd be able to get out of this silly job of mine. I
can't go on much longer. I'm getting too well known. I do believe I'll
try it. The shouting's easy enough." She turned to Joan. "Are you
going to take up socialism?" she demanded.

"I may," answered Joan. "Just to spank it, and put it down again. I'm
rather a believer in temptation--the struggle for existence. I only want
to make it a finer existence, more worth the struggle, in which the best
man shall rise to the top. Your 'universal security'--that will be the
last act of the human drama, the cue for ringing down the curtain."

"But do not all our Isms work towards that end?" suggested Madge.

Joan was about to reply when the maid's announcement of "Mrs. Denton"
postponed the discussion.

Mrs. Denton was a short, grey-haired lady. Her large strong features
must have made her, when she was young, a hard-looking woman; but time
and sorrow had strangely softened them; while about the corners of the
thin firm mouth lurked a suggestion of humour that possibly had not
always been there. Joan, waiting to be introduced, towered head and
shoulders above her; yet when she took the small proffered hand and felt
those steely blue eyes surveying her, she had the sensation of being
quite insignificant. Mrs. Denton seemed to be reading her, and then
still retaining Joan's hand she turned to Madge with a smile.

"So this is our new recruit," she said. "She is come to bring healing to
the sad, sick world--to right all the old, old wrongs."

She patted Joan's hand and spoke gravely. "That is right, dear. That is
youth's _metier_; to take the banner from our failing hands, b