"Of course," said the pliable Ingeborg, trained in acquiescence. "And on what does agriculture depend in the last resort?" Brilliantly she hazarded "Manure." For the third time the ladies leapt, and the one next to her drew away her dress. He showed his appreciation of her intelligence by nodding slowly. "A nation must be fed," he said, "and empty fields will feed no one." "Of course not," said Ingeborg. "So that it is the chief element in all progress; for the root of progress flourishes only in a filled stomach." The ladies began to fan themselves violently, nervously, one with _The Daily Mirror_ the other with _Answers_. "Of course," said Ingeborg. "First," said the German gentleman, "you fill your stomach--" The lady next to Ingeborg made a sudden lunge across her at the strap. "Excuse me, but do you mind putting that window _down_?" she said in a sort of burst. The German gentleman, stemmed in his speech, used the interval while Ingeborg opened the window in buttoning up his overcoat again with care and patience and readjusting his muffler. When he had attended to these things he resumed his enthusiasm; he seemed to switch it on again. "The infinite combinations of it!" he exclaimed. "Its infinite varieties! Kali, Kainit, Chilisaltpetre, Superphosphates"--he rolled out the words as though they were the verse of a psalm. "When I shut the door on myself in the little laboratory I have constructed I shut in with me all life, all science, every possibility. I analyse, I synthesize, I separate, reduce, combine. I touch the stars. I stir the depths. The daily world is forgotten. I forget, indeed, everything, except my research. And invariably at the most profound, the most exalted moments some one knocks and tells me it is Sunday again, and will I come out and preach." [Illustration: "Then why," she asked, with the courage of curiosity, "are you a pastor?"] He looked at her indignantly, demanding sympathy. "Preach!" he repeated. "Then why," she asked, with the courage of curiosity, "are you a pastor?" "Because my father made me one." "But why are you still one?" "Because a man must live." "He oughtn't to want to," said Ingeborg with a faint flush, for she had been carefully trained to shyness when it came to pronouncing opinions--the Bishop called it being womanly--"he oughtn't to want to at the cost of his convictions." "Nevertheless," said the pastor, "he does." "Yes," said Ingeborg, obliged to admit it; even at Redchester cases were not unknown. "He does," she said, nodding. "Of course he does." And unable not to be at least as honest as the pastor she added: "And so does a woman." "Naturally," said the pastor. She looked at him a moment, and then said impulsively, pulling herself a little forward towards him by the window strap-- "_This_ woman does. She's doing it now." The two ladies exchanged glances and fluttered their fans faster.