“I wish to discuss the matter with you as a member of a privileged class,” rejoined Miss Railing, with flashing eye, digging the ferule of her umbrella emphatically into the carpet. “Now, so far as I can see you are utterly ignorant of all the great social questions of the day.” “Utterly!” he agreed. “What do you know about the Housing of the Working Classes?” “Nothing!” “What do you know about Secondary Education?” “Nothing!” “What do you know about the Taxation of Ground Rents?” “Nothing!” answered Lord Spratte for the third time. “And what’s more, I’m hanged if I want to.” Miss Railing sprang to her feet, waving her umbrella as though herself about to lead an attack on the Houses of Parliament. “And yet you are a member of the Upper Chamber. Just because you’re a lord, you have power to legislate over millions of people with ten times more knowledge, more ability, and more education than yourself.” “Capital! Capital!” cried Canon Spratte, vastly amused. “You rub it in. A good straight talking-to is just what he wants!” “And how do you spend your time, I should like to know. Do you study the questions of the hour? Do you attempt to fit yourself for the task entrusted to you by the anachronism of a past age?” “I wish you’d put that umbrella down,” answered Lord Spratte. “It makes me quite nervous.” Miss Railing angrily threw that instrument of menace on a chair. “I’ll be bound you spend your days in every form of degrading pursuit. At race-meetings, and billiards, and gambling.” “Capital! Capital!” cried the Canon. Then Ponsonby returned bearing on a silver tray, engraved magnificently with the arms and supporters of the Sprattes, a liqueur bottle. “Ah, here is the gin!” But Mrs. Railing had an affection for synonyms and a passion for respectability. A spasm of outraged sensibility passed over her honest face. “Oh, my lord, don’t call it gin. It sounds so vulgar. When my poor ’usband was alive I used to say to ’im: ‘Captain, I won’t have it called gin in my ’ouse.’ I always used to call my ’usband the captain, although he was only first mate. I wish you could ’ave seen him. If any one ’ad said to me: ‘Mrs. Railing, put your ’and on a fine, ’andsome, ’ealthy man,’ I should ’ave put my ’and on James Samuel Railing. And would you believe it, before he was thirty-five he was no more.” “Very sad!” said the Canon. “Oh, and ’e was a dreadful sight before ’e died. You should have seen his legs.” “Ma!” “Leave me alone, Louie,” answered Mrs. Railing, somewhat incensed. “Do you think I’ve never been in a gentleman’s house before? You’re always naggin’.” “No, I’m not, ma.” “Don’t contradict, Louie. I won’t ’ave it.” But Canon Spratte interposed with soft words. “Won’t you have a little more--white satin?” “No, thank you, my lord, I don’t think I could stand it,” said Mrs. Railing, quickly regaining her composure. “You made the first dose rather strong, and we’ve got to get ’ome, you know.”