“I suppose,” replied Eden lightly, “it will have to be ‘Don’t Rationalize but Nationalize.’ It comes to the same thing. Besides, we can easily get a new motto of some sort. For instance, we, after all, are the patriotic party, the national party. What about ‘Let the Nationalists Nationalize’?” “Well, all I can say is--” began Normantowers explosively. “Compensation, there will be compensation, of course,” said the Prime Minister soothingly; “a great deal can be done with compensation. If you will all turn up here this day week, say at four o’clock, I think I can lay all the plans before you.” When they did turn up next week and were shown again into the Prime Minister’s sunny garden, they found that the plans were, indeed, laid before them; for the table that stood on the sunny lawn was covered with large and small maps and a mass of official documents. Mr. Eustace Pym, one of the Prime Minister’s numerous private secretaries, was hovering over them, and the Prime Minister himself was sitting at the head of the table studying one of them with an intelligent frown. “I thought you’d like to hear the terms of the arrangements,” he said. “I’m afraid we must all make sacrifices in the cause of progress.” “Oh, progress be----” cried Normantowers, losing patience. “I want to know if you really mean that my estate----” “It comes under the department of Castle and Abbey Estates in Section Four,” said Lord Eden, referring to the paper before him. “By the provisions of the new Bill the public control in such cases will be vested in the Lord-Lieutenant of the County. In the particular case of your castle--let me see--why, yes, of course, you are Lord-Lieutenant of that county.” Little Lord Normantowers was staring, with his stiff hair all standing on end; but a new look was dawning in his shrewd though small-featured face.