shall do his share of work demanded by the community, and no more—— But here Mrs. Ellison, who had doubtless heard or read all this before, turned away altogether. She asked her nephew to give her some more strawberries. "I say, Vin," she remarked, incidentally, "what very beautiful dessert-plates these are. I don’t remember them. Where did you get them?" "I thought you would admire them," said he. "They are my father’s own design." "Really! I call them very handsome—and so quaint and unusual. He must tell me where I can get some of them: when I go back to Brighton I should like to take a few with me for my small establishment." "But you can’t, aunt," he said. "Why?" "Because my father had the moulds broken." She looked at him for a moment and then sniggered—yes, sniggered, but discreetly, so that the two perfervid politicians should not see. "That is pretty well," she observed in an undertone, "for a Socialist and Communist—to have the moulds broken so that nobody else should have any!" Presently she said, in the same undertone— "I’m going to catch your eye in a minute, Vin. Are you coming upstairs to the drawing-room with me?" "Yes, of course, aunt," said he, instantly. "Get up now, and let’s be off." She rose: so did her brother-in-law. Mr. Ogden remained in his chair—perhaps through inattention, or perhaps he was bewildered by the consciousness that he ought to make, as a relic of his ancient worship of _laissez faire_, some protest against this wholesale intervention of the State. Then Vincent opened the door for the tall and bright-eyed young widow; and he and she passed out and went upstairs together. When they entered the spacious and richly-furnished room, the atmosphere of which was heavy with the scent of flowers, Mrs. Ellison seated herself in a low lounging-chair, while her nephew stood some little way off, his hands behind his back, his eyes absently staring into a rose-shaded lamp as if he could see pictures there. When she spoke, no doubt he heard; but he did not answer or interrupt: he allowed her to ramble on. And she was in a talkative and vivacious mood.