The poem which bore this alarming title was perhaps the most outrageous of the author's works. It held up to ridicule and devoted to damnation every person and every institution which the Squire respected and worshiped. And the misguided young man declaimed it with sparkling eyes and emphasizing gestures, as though every wicked word of it were gospel. And to this man's charge were committed the wives and families of the citizens of Denborough! The Squire's self-respect demanded a protest. He rose with dignity, and went up to his host. "Good-by, Mr. Bannister." "What? you're not going yet? What? Does this stuff bore you?" "It does not bore me. But I must add--excuse an old-fashioned fellow--that it does something worse." "What? Oh, you're on the other side? Of course you are!" "Whatever side I was, I could not listen to that. As an older man, let me give you a word of advice." Dale lifted his hands in good-humored protest. "Sorry you don't like it," he said. "Shut up, Roberts! If I'd known, we wouldn't have had it. But it's true--true--true." The Doctor listened with sparkling eyes. "I must differ utterly; I must indeed. Good-by, Mr. Bannister. Hedger?" The Mayor started. "I am walking into the town. Come with me." The Mayor wavered. The Squire stood and waited for him. "I didn't think of goin' yet, Mr. Delane, sir." Dale watched the encounter with a smile. "Your wife will expect you," said the Squire. "Come along." The Mayor rose, ignoring Johnstone's grin and the amusement on the faces of the company. "I'll come and look you up," said Dale, pressing the Squire's hand warmly. "Oh, it's all right. Tastes differ. I'm not offended. I'll come some day this week." He showed them out, and, returning, said to the Doctor, "Roberts, you'll get into trouble." "Nonsense!" said the Doctor. "What business is it of his?" Dale had turned to Johnstone. "Good-by," said he abruptly. "We close at five." "I've 'ad a pleasant afternoon, sir." "It will be deducted from your bill," answered Dale. After ejecting Johnstone, he stood by the table, looking moodily at the floor. "What's the matter, Dale?" asked Miss Fane. "I suppose he thought we were beasts or lunatics." "Probably," said Philip Hume. "What then?" "Well, yes," answered Dale, smiling again. "You're quite right, Phil. What then?" CHAPTER V. =The Necessary Scapegoat.=