“Oh, Lord!” she said, and went on, “Well, I was wrong about one thing. I said you must be a dried up little mummy of a man, all beard and spectacles. And you’re not a bit like that. In fact you’re quite unusually goodlooking.” The faintest adumbration of a flush tinged Wolverton’s white forehead. “My name appears to be known to you,” he remarked, ignoring the compliment. “Obviously,” his visitor retorted. “Pretty well known to everyone, I should imagine, just now.” “May I ask why?” he put in. “Well, considering that you’re the man who’s responsible for the revolution, I suppose you’re more famous at the present moment than any man in Great Britain,” she said. “Though you’re not exactly popular with either side, to-night, I should think,” she added thoughtfully. Henry Wolverton made a little noise in his throat that sounded like an asthmatic cough. With him that noise did duty for a laugh. “I’m afraid I don’t follow you,” he said. “Do you mean that you don’t admit your own responsibility for the revolution?” she asked. “I cannot see that I am even remotely connected with it,” he replied. The young woman pursed her lovely mouth, and clasped her hands round her knee. After a reflective pause she remarked with apparent inconsequence, “My name is Susan Jeffery; but I don’t suppose that conveys anything to you.” “I believe I saw the name on a committee list of the ‘League of Youth,’” Wolverton said. “Lord, what a memory he has,” commented Susan Jeffery in a soft voice. “But I must plead ignorance of the general scope of your activities,” he continued. “But you know something about our league?” she put in. “Something,” he admitted. “Such as our policy of percolation?” “I understand that your endeavour is to be represented in every imaginable grade of society.” “Precisely. From royalty down to the criminal and the gutter-snipe,” Susan confirmed. “We have only one qualification for membership; we admit no one over twenty-five.” “And have you many members, now?” Wolverton inquired politely. “Nine thousand, eight hundred and forty-three,” Susan replied. “We admitted a hundred and seven new members after our grand meeting to-night, including a royal prince and two hooligans.” Henry Wolverton nodded his head encouragingly. “Most satisfactory,” he murmured. Susan dropped her knee and sat up. “I’m telling you this,” she said in a firm voice, “for your own good. We discussed you at our meeting, and it was resolved unanimously that you were largely responsible for the revolution that broke out to-day, and will end God knows where or when.” Wolverton made his noise again--Susan had not yet recognized it as a laugh. “I must confess that I don’t quite follow your train of reasoning,” he said. “You don’t _look_ like a fool, either,” Susan commented, frankly. “I suppose that’s just your one blind spot. Most of us have one.” “Perhaps you would explain,” Wolverton suggested.