Tom Merivale did not, as Mrs. Home had feared he might, appear without clothes at dinner, nor did he make clamorous demands for cabbage. It is true that he ate no meat of any kind, but he was not of the preaching sort of vegetarians, and did not call attention to his abstinence. Instead, he and Evelyn Dundas between them managed to turn the meal into a ridiculous piece of gaiety by sheer exuberance of animal spirits, and even Lady Ellington forgot to examine the dishes with her usual magisterial air, and really ate and drank without criticising. There was an extraordinary superficial resemblance in certain ways between the two men. Both, at any rate, were glorious examples of the happiness that springs from health, a happiness which is as inimitable as it is contagious. By health, it must be premised, is not meant the mere absence of definite ailments, but that perfect poise between an active mind and an exuberant body which is so rare. It was on this very subject that Merivale was speaking now. "Ah, no, Lady Ellington," he was saying, "to be able to get through the day's work, day after day and year after year, is not health. Perfect health implies practically perfect happiness." "But how if you have a definite cause of worry?" she said. "You can't worry when you are well. One knows, for example, that if one is definitely unwell, the same cause produces greater worry and discomfort than if one is not. And my theory is, that if one is absolutely well, if your mind and soul, that is to say, as well as your body, are all in accord with each other and with their environment, worry is impossible." Lady Ellington, to do her justice, always listened to that were really new to her. She always assumed, by the way, that they were not. "My theory exactly," she said. "I could scarcely have lived through these last years unless I had made up my mind never to let any anxiety take hold of me." Evelyn Dundas laughed. Dinner was nearing its end and conversation was general. "My mind and my body are not in absolute accord this moment," he said, "and I am rather anxious. My body demands some more ice-pudding; my mind tells me it would be extremely unwise. Which am I to listen to, Tom?" "Give Mr. Dundas some more ice-pudding," remarked Philip to a footman. "The laws of hospitality compel me to fall in with my host's suggestions," said Evelyn. "Tom, where you are wrong lies in thinking that it is worth while spending all your time in keeping well. He lives in the New Forest, Lady Ellington, and if when you are passing you hear the puffs of a loud steam-engine somewhere near Brockenhurst you will know it is Tom doing deep breathing. He expects in time to become a Ram-jam or something, by breathing himself into Raj-pan-puta." Tom Merivale laughed. "No, I don't want to become a Ram-jam," he said, "whatever that may be. I want to become myself." "No clothes," murmured Mrs. Home. "Become yourself?" asked Lady Ellington.