“Am I indeed? Why? Because the slandered man, if he is slandered, is the friend of my daughter’s friend?” “Exactly--that’s quite sufficient for you to go upon--that and the falsehood.” “If it is a falsehood.” “If--oh, papa--if?” “If I have your personal guarantee that the statements are unsubstantiated----” “Now, you are beginning to jest. I cannot jest on so serious an issue. Think of it--slaves--dynamite!” “Both excellent words for missionaries to send home to England--almost equal to opium and idols from the standpoint of the mission-box.” Phyllis was solemn for a moment; then she burst into a merry laugh that only wanted a note of merriment to be delightful. Her father did not miss that note. He was thinking of another phrase. “Now, why shouldn’t you say that or something like that, my father?” cried the girl. “Something to set the House laughing before the Minister of the Annexation Department has had time to reply? You can do it, you know.” “I believe I could,” said Mr. Ayrton thoughtfully. “But why, my child; why?” “Why! Why! Oh, if one only said good things when there was a reason for saying them, how dull we should all be! Any stick for a dog--any jest is good enough for the House of Commons.” “Yes; but suppose it is inferred that I am not on the side of the missionaries? What about Hazelborough?” Hazelborough was the constituency which Mr. Ayrton represented in the House of Commons. “My dear father, where would you be if you couldn’t steer through the Hazelborough prejudices now and again? You can always say something so good as to make people not care which way it cuts.” “What? Oh, Phyllis! I am ashamed of you. Besides, the people of Hazelborough have got to be extremely sensitive. They have caught the Nonconformist Conscience. The bacillus of the Nonconformist Conscience was rampant a short time ago, and it has not yet been stamped out. I’m afraid that I must have principle on my side--some show of principle, at any rate--not so wide as a church door or so deep as a well, but still----” “And you will, too, papa. I’ll see Ella and get her to find out from Mr. Courtland what is the truth.” “Well, perhaps it mightn’t be wise to rush into extremes all at once! I wouldn’t insist on the truth, if I were you. What’s the House of Commons that it should be cockered up with the truth? All that is needed is enough to go on with. An electro-plating of veracity is in keeping with the economic tendencies of the age.” “I am not afraid of the truth,” cried Phyllis, without giving the cynicism of her father the tribute of a smile. “Mr. Courtland would, I know, be incapable of doing anything unworthy of--of----”