“It seems like it. For the last six months there seems to have been an evil influence among them; sometimes I think the poison of anarchy lurks in their veins. They have taken a violent and senseless dislike to all the influential men in the neighbourhood; they grudge them their wealth and position, I suppose. Latterly, I have myself been included under the ban.” “How strange!” exclaimed Celia, deeply interested, but vexed withal. “A little while ago,” Karne continued, “I was commissioned to paint two pictures for the Duke of Downshire’s private chapel, one on the subject of the Annunciation, the other on the Crucifixion. I do not go in for religious paintings as a rule, you know, but for several reasons I undertook these. Well, these people from Mendel’s factory happened to see the pictures through the studio window when they visited my grounds on the Sunday after their completion, and took it into their stupid heads to imagine that because I painted pictures on those subjects, I must of necessity be trending towards Christianity myself. The news of Celia’s conversion coming on top of that must have strengthened that idea, hence our unpopularity.” “How narrow-minded they must be,” said Enid Wilton, thoughtfully. “But surely it is against their own interest to offend you and your equals, is it not?” “Decidedly,” Herbert assented. “That is where their madness comes in; they spite themselves, not us. However, I intend to close the night-school, the dispensary, and the club for a few weeks. I must do something to bring them to their senses.” “What a pity!” Celia said, regretfully. “Enid and I were going to get up such a nice concert for them next week; and Lady Marjorie had promised to allow Bobbie to dance the hornpipe. The little fellow will be so disappointed.” She was disappointed herself--more keenly than she cared to confess--and brooded on the inimical attitude of Mendel’s people, until the thought of it quite distressed her. Had it not been for Enid Wilton’s companionship she would have felt inclined to give way to depression; but Enid was bright and entertaining, and did her best to divert her friend’s mind into other channels. The two girls avoided the vicinity of the factory as much as possible, but were obliged to pass it on their way to Durlston House, whither Lady Marjorie had recently returned. Occasionally they met some of the workpeople or their relatives; but Celia always passed them without a sign of recognition, for she knew that to speak to them would be to invite an insult.