‘I know. It is one of the huge fallacies of the time; it comes of the worship of progress. I am content with the fact that, even in our bad day, as a class they _are_ satisfied. No, these reforms address themselves to the wrong people; they begin at the wrong end. Let us raise our voices, if we feel impelled to do so at all, for the old simple Christian rules, and do our best to get the educated by the ears. I have my opinion about the clergy; I will leave you to guess it.’ ‘Have you any belief in the possibility of this revolution they threaten?’ ‘None whatever. Changes will come about, but not of these men’s making or devising. And for the simple reason that they are not sincere. I put aside an educated enthusiast such as Westlake. The proletarian Socialists do not believe what they say, and therefore they are so violent in saying it. They are not themselves of pure and exalted character; they cannot ennoble others. If the movement continue we shall see miserable examples of weakness led astray by popularity, of despicable qualities aping greatness.’ He paused somewhat abruptly, for he was thinking of Mutimer, and did not wish to make the application too obvious. Hubert restrained a smile. They parted shortly after, but not till Hubert had put one more question. ‘Do you, or do you not, approve of what I am doing down in the valley?’ Mr. Wyvern thought a moment, and replied gravely: ‘You being yourself, I approve it heartily. It will gladden my eyes to see the grass growing when spring comes round.’ He shook Hubert’s hand affectionately and left him. CHAPTER XXX We must concern ourselves for a little with the affairs of our old acquaintance, Daniel Dabbs. Daniel’s disillusionment with regard to Richard Mutimer did not affect his regularity of attendance at the Socialist lectures, in most things a typical English mechanic, he was especially so in his relation to the extreme politics of which he declared himself a supporter. He became a Socialist because his friend Dick was one; when that was no longer a reason, he numbered himself among the followers of Comrade Roodhouse--first as a sort of angry protest, against Mutimer’s private treachery, then again because he had got into the habit of listening to inflammatory discourses every Sunday night, and on the whole found it a pleasant way of passing the evening. He enjoyed the oratory of Messrs. Cowes and Cullen; he liked to shout ‘Hear, hear!’ and to stamp when there was general applause; it affected him with an agreeable sensation, much like that which follows upon a good meal, to hear himself pitied as a hard-working, ill-used fellow, and the frequent allusion to his noble qualities sweetly flattered him. When he went, home to the public-house after a lively debate, and described the proceedings to his brother Nicholas, he always ended by declaring that it was ‘as good as a play.’