His only hope was in Sir John's well-known indolence and irresponsibility. Sir John was the exhausted reaction from the efforts of a self-made grandfather and of a father spendthrift in energy; he had had everything done for him ever since he was a baby, and consequently was now unable or unwilling to do anything for himself or other people. You couldn't see him taking an active part in the management of the League, and Mr. Waddington couldn't see himself doing all the work and handing over all the glory to Sir John. Still, between Mr. Waddington and the glory there was only this supine figure of Sir John, and Sir John once out of the running he could count without immodesty on the unanimous vote of any committee he formed in Wyck. It was possible that even a Sir John Corbett would not really carry it over a Waddington of Wyck, but Mr. Waddington wasn't taking any risks. What he had to do was to suggest the presidency to Sir John in such a way that he would be certain to refuse it. He had the good luck to find Sir John alone in his library at tea-time, eating hot buttered toast. There was hope for Mr. Waddington in Sir John's attitude, lying back and nursing his little round stomach, hope in the hot, buttery gleam of his cheeks, in his wide mouth, lazy under the jutting grey moustache, and in the scrabbling of his little legs as he exerted himself to stand upright. "Well, Waddington, glad to see you." He was in his chair again. With another prodigious effort he leaned forward and rang for more tea and more toast. "Did you walk?" said Sir John. His little round eyes expressed horror at the possibility. "No, I just ran over in my car." "Drove yourself?" "No. Too much effort of attention. I find it interferes with my thinking." "Interferes with everything," said Sir John. "'Spect you drove enough during the war to last you for the rest of your life." "Ah, Government service. A very different thing. That reminds me; I've come to-day to consult you on a matter of public business." "Business?" (He noted Sir John's uneasy pout.) "Better have some tea first." Sir John took another piece of buttered toast. If only Sir John would go on eating. Nothing like buttered toast for sustaining that mood of voluptuous inertia. When Mr. Waddington judged the moment propitious he began. "While I was up in London I had the pleasure of lunching with Sir Maurice Gedge. He wants me to start a branch of the National League of Liberty here." "Liberty? Shouldn't have thought that was much in your line. Didn't expect to see you waving the red flag, what? Why didn't you put him on to our friend Grainger?" "My dear Corbett, what are you thinking of? The object of the League is to put down all that sort of thing--Socialism--Bolshevism--to rouse the whole country and get it to stand solid for order and good government." "H'm. Is it? Queer sort of title for a thing of that sort--League of Liberty, what?"