"Yes," said Joe, staring at the fire. "There are some people," said Miss Schenectady, "it does not seem to make much difference what they say, but it is always fine." "Is that ironical?" asked Vancouver. "Why, goodness gracious no! Of course not! I am John Harrington's very best friend. I only mean to say." "What, Aunt Zoë?" inquired Joe, not yet altogether accustomed to the peculiar implications of her aunt's language. "Why, what I said, of course; it sounds very fine." "Then you do not believe it all?" asked Vancouver. "I don't understand politics," said the old lady. "You might ring the bell, Joe, and ask Sarah for some tea." "Nobody understands politics," said Vancouver. "When people do, there will be an end of them. Politics consist in one half of the world trying to drive paradoxes down the throats of the other half." Joe laughed a little. "I do not know anything about politics here," she said, "though I do at home, of course. I must say, though, Mr. Harrington did not seem so very paradoxical." "Oh no," answered Vancouver, blandly, "I did not mean in this case. Harrington is very much in earnest. But it is like war, you see. When every one understands it thoroughly, it will stop by universal consent. Did you ever read Bulwer's 'Coming Race'?" "Yes," said Joe. "I always read those books. _Vril_, and that sort of thing, you mean? Oh yes." "Approximately," answered Vancouver. "It was an allegory, you know. A hundred years hence people will write a book to explain what Bulwer meant. _Vril_ stands for the cumulative power of potential science, of course." "I think Bulwer's word shorter, and a good deal easier to understand," said Joe, laughing. "It is a great thing to be great," remarked Miss Schenectady. "Sarah, I think you might bring us some tea, please, and ask John if he couldn't stir the furnace a little. And then to have people explain you. Goethe must be a good deal amused, I expect, when people write books to prove that Byron was Euphorion." Miss Schenectady was fond of German literature, and the extent of her reading was a constant surprise to her niece. "What a lot of things you know, Aunt Zoë!" said Joe. "But what had Bulwer to do with war, Mr. Vancouver?" "Oh, in the book--the 'Coming Race,' you know--they abolished war because they could kill each other so easily." "How nice that would be!" exclaimed Joe, looking at him. "Why, you perfectly shock me, Joe," cried Miss Schenectady. "I mean, to have no war," returned Joe, sweetly. "Oh; I belonged to the Peace Conference myself," said her aunt, immediately pacified. "Well, yes. Perhaps you could bring us a little cake, Sarah? War is a terrible thing, my dear, as Mr. Vancouver will tell you." Vancouver, however, was silent. He probably did not care to have it remembered that he was old enough to carry a musket in the Rebellion. Joe understood and asked no Questions about it, and Vancouver was grateful for her tact. She rose and began to pour out some tea.