It was an undreamed-of honour. Save his mother and his wife, he did not remember to have walked in the street with any woman. He strode by her side proud and happy. Their way lay through Hyde Park. The October leaves shimmered like golden scales in the afternoon sun, shedding a glory around him. The few passers-by seemed non-existent. The great stretch of lawn rolled on either side towards the just visible white house-tops. In front, the chequered path of the burnished avenue. From time to time his companion raised her delicate face to him. A slanting beam caught the light of her eyes and the gold tints of her hair under her dainty toque. A strange, unknown feeling stole upon his heart. A great silence and splendour had fallen over life. It was Lady Phayre who broke the silence at last. Her voice was sweetly silvery. “If I came to Ecclesby, could I be of any use to you?” “You would only have to look as you look now,” he answered, “and there is nothing you couldn’t help me to do.” “I----” Lady Phayre began, stopped abruptly as a little tremor shook her shoulders delicately, then recovering herself, broke into a laugh. “I shall look ever so much more businesslike, I assure you. I’ll go and make friends with the wives. It will be useful against canvassing time. I am an old campaigner in electioneering, you know. But I have never taken an active part in a strike. It will be a new thing for the political woman to do. I am always seeking after something new. I must have been an Athenian in past ages--an Athenian of the Athenians--and my soul got so impregnated that it has never been able to free itself. I wonder if they would let me make a speech, Mr. Goddard?” “We will ask the Union,” he laughed, following her unwittingly into the lighter track she had started upon. “But will you really come and help?” “Of course.” “How can I thank you?” said Goddard. “Post me up in all the ins and outs and technicalities,” she replied brightly. He took up his parable, and told her of shifts and piece-work, and the intricacies of sliding-scales of wages, and the complications of the trade. And, in truth, it was a parable. For the idyllic hour of Goddard’s life had come, and air, and trees, and sun, and words all lost their outer sense, and became informed with hidden meaning. CHAPTER VIII--WITH THE HELP OF LADY PHAYRE