d Forres was going to
sell the place." Vane continued his lunch in silence, and suddenly a
remark from the other side of the table struck his ears.

"I say, old Side-whiskers hasn't given me my fair whack of beer." It
was a youngster speaking, and the remark was plainly audible to the old
butler two places away. For a moment his face quivered, and then he
returned to the speaker.

"I beg your pardon, sir," he remarked quietly. "Let me fill your
glass."

"Thanks, old sport. That's a bit better looking." Vane turned to his
neighbour with an amused smile.

"Truly the old order changeth," remarked the other thoughtfully. "And
one's inclined to wonder if it's changing for the better."

"Unfortunately in any consideration of that sort one is so hopelessly
biassed by one's own personal point of view," returned Vane.

"Do you think so?" He crumbled the bread beside him. "Don't you think
one can view a little episode like that in an unbiassed way? Isn't it
merely in miniature what is going on all over the country? . . . The
clash of the new spirit with the one that is centuries old."

"And you really regard that youth as being representative of the new
spirit?"

"No one man can be. But I regard him as typical of a certain phase of
that spirit. In all probability a magnificent platoon commander--there
are thousands like him who have come into being with this war. The
future of the country lies very largely in their hands. What are they
going to make of it?"

The same question--the same ceaseless refrain. Sometimes expressed,
more often not. ENGLAND in the melting pot--what was going to happen?
Unconsciously Vane's eyes rested on the figure of the old butler
standing at the end of the room. There was something noble about the
simplicity of the old man, confronted by the crashing of the system in
which he and his father, and his father's father had been born. A
puzzled look seemed ever in his eyes: the look of a dog parted from a
beloved master, in new surroundings amongst strange faces. And
officially, at any rate, the crash was entirely for the benefit of him
and his kind . . . . wherein lay the humour.

Vane laughed shortly as he pushed back his chair. "Does anything
matter save one's own comfort? Personally I think slavery would be an
admirable innovation."

Sir John Patterdale was everything that his wife was not. The
unprecedented success of his Patent Plate had enabled him to pay the
n