Three days later poor Hallifield’s “handsome funeral” set out from the door of the model lodgings, and Frithiof, who had given up his half-holiday to go down to the cemetery, listened to the words of the beautiful service, thinking to himself how improbable it was that the tram-conductor had ever had the chance of hearing St. Paul’s teaching on the resurrection. Was there not something wrong in a system which should so tire out a man that the summit of his wishes on his dying day should be but an echo of the overworked woman whose epitaph ended with— “I’m going to do nothing for ever and ever”? How could this great evil of the overwork of the many, and the too great leisure of the few, be set right? A socialism which should compulsorily reduce all to one level would be worse than useless. Love of freedom was too thoroughly ingrained in his Norse nature to tolerate that idea for a moment. He desired certain radical reforms with his whole heart, but he saw that they alone would not suffice—nothing but individual love, nothing but the consciousness of individual responsibility, could really put an end to the misery and injustice of the present system. In a word, the only true remedy was the life of Sonship. CHAPTER XXXII. One December day another conclave was held in Mr. Boniface’s private room. Mr. Boniface himself sat with his arm chair turned round toward the fire, and on his pleasant, genial face there was a slight cloud, for he much disliked the prospect of the discussion before him. Mr. Horner stood with his back to the mantel-piece, looking even more pompous and conceited than usual, and Roy sat at the writing-table, listening attentively to what passed, and relieving his feelings by savagely digging his pen into the blotting-pad to the great detriment of its point. “It is high time we came to an understanding on this matter,” Mr. Horner was saying. “Do you fully understand that when I have once said a thing I keep to it? Either that Norwegian must go, or when the day comes for renewing our partnership I leave this place never to re-enter it.” “I do not wish to have any quarrel with you about the matter,” said Mr. Boniface. “But I shall certainly not part with Falck. To send him away now would be most cruel and unjustifiable.” “It would be nothing of the sort,” retorted Mr. Horner hotly. “It would be merely following the dictates of common-sense and fairness.” “This is precisely the point on which you and I do not agree,” said Mr. Boniface with dignity. “It is not only his dishonesty that has set me against him,” continued Mr. Horner. “It is his impertinent indifference, his insufferable manner when I order him to do anything.” “I have never myself found him anything but a perfect gentleman,” said Mr. Boniface. “Gentleman! Oh! I’ve no patience with all that tomfoolery! I want none of your gentlemen; I want a shopman who knows his place and can answer with proper deference.”