Young Horace vaulted lightly over the bench, followed by Ralph, and the two were steeplechasing down the hall when Mr. Hitchin made another of his mysterious signals and the men filed out, obediently, one by one. Ralph and Horace found themselves in the middle of the empty benches laughing into each other's faces. Colonel Grainger and Mr. Hitchin stood beside them, smiling with intolerable benevolence. Mr. Hitchin was saying: "The men are all right, Mr. Bevan. They don't mean any harm. They just got a bit out of hand." Horace saw that they were being magnanimous, and the thought maddened him. "I don't blame the men," he said, "and I don't blame you, Hitchin. You don't know any better. But Colonel Grainger ought to be damned well ashamed of himself, and I hope he is." Colonel Grainger laughed. So did Mr. Hitchin, throwing himself back and swaying from side to side as his mirth shook him. "Look here, Mr. Hitchin--" "That'll do, Horry," said Ralph. He led him gently down a side aisle and through a swing door into the concealed corridor beside the platform. There they waited. "Don't imagine for one moment," said young Horry, "that I agree with all that tosh he talked. But, after all, he's got a perfect right to make a fool of himself if he chooses. And he's _my_ father." "I know. From first to last, Horry, you behaved beautifully." "Well, what would _you_ do if your father made an unholy ass of himself in public?" "My father doesn't." "No, but if he did?" "I'd do what you did. Sit tight and try and look as if he didn't." "Then," said Horace, "you look as big a fool yourself." "Not quite. You don't say anything. Besides, your father isn't as big a fool as those London Leaguers who started the silly show. Sir Maurice Gedge and all that crowd. He didn't invent the beastly thing." "No," said Horace mournfully, "he hasn't even the merit of originality." He meditated, still mournful. "Look here, Ralph, what did that blackguard Hitchin mean?" "He isn't a blackguard. He's a ripping good sort. I can tell you, if every employer in this confounded commercial country was as honest as old Hitchin, there wouldn't be any labour question worth talking about." "Damn his honesty. What did he _mean_? Was it true what he said?" "Was what true?" "Why, that my father turned the Ballingers out?" "Yes; I'm afraid it was." "I say, how disgusting of him. You know I always thought he was a bit of a fool, my father; but I didn't know he was that beastly kind of fool." "He isn't," said Ralph. "He's just--a fool." "I know. Did you ever hear such putrid rot as he talked?" "I don't know. For the kind of silly thing it was, his speech wasn't half bad." "What? About going over the top? Oh, Lord! And after turning the Ballingers out, too." Ralph was silent. "What's happened to him? He didn't use to be like that. He must be mad, or something." Ralph thought of Mrs. Levitt. "He's getting old and he doesn't like it. That's what's the matter with him."