After her father's report and the departure of Nellie Fane, Miss Tora Smith had been pleased to reconsider her judgment of Dale Bannister, and to modify it to some extent. The poems and the suspicion, taken in conjunction, each casting a lurid light on the other, had been very bad indeed; but when Tora's mind was disabused of the suspicion, she found it in her heart to pardon the poems. Although she treated Sir Harry Fulmer with scant ceremony, she had no small respect for his opinion, and when he and the Colonel coincided in the decision that Dale need not be ostracized, she did not persist against them. She was led to be more compliant by the fact that she was organizing an important Liberal gathering, and had conceived the ambition of inducing Dale to take part in the proceedings. "Fancy, if he would write us a song!" she said; "a song which we could sing in chorus. Wouldn't it be splendid?" "What would the Squire say?" asked Sir Harry. Tora smiled mischievously. "Are you," she demanded, "going to stand by and see him captured by the Grange?" "He ought to be with us, oughtn't he?" said Sir Harry. "Of course. And if our leader had an ounce of zeal----" "I'll write to him to-day," said Sir Harry. "Yes; and mind you persuade him. I shall be so amused to see what Jan Delane says, if he writes us a song." "He won't do it." "He won't, if you go in that despairing mood. Now write at once. Write as if you expected it." The outcome of this conversation, together with the idea which had struck the Squire, was, of course, that Dale received, almost by the same post, an urgent request for a militant Radical ditty, and a delicate, but very flattering, suggestion that it would be most agreeable to His Royal Highness--indeed he had hinted as much in response to Lord Cransford's question--to find the loyalty of Denborough, as it were, crystallized in one of Mr. Bannister's undying productions. For the first time in his life, Dale felt a grudge against the Muses for their endowment. Could not these people let him alone? He did not desire to put himself forward; he only asked to be let alone. It was almost as repugnant to him--at least, he thought it would be--to take part in Lord Cransford's pageant, as it certainly would be to hear the Radicals of Denborough screeching out his verses. He was a man of letters, not a politician, and he thought both requests very uncalled for. It might be that the Grange folks had some claim on him, but his acquaintance with Sir Harry Fulmer was of the slightest; and what did the man mean by talking of his "well-known views"? He was as bad as the Doctor himself. Presently Philip Hume came in, and Dale disclosed his perplexities. "I want to please people," he said, "but this is rather strong." "Write both," suggested Philip. "That will enrage both of them." "Then write neither." "Really, Phil, you might show some interest in the matter." "I am preoccupied. Have you been in the town to-day, Dale?" "No."