... As for magazine conditions, Dicky [John Higgins wrote], they couldn’t be worse. Our little old _Public Square_ has fallen into sorry ways.... If you’ve had a German neighbor for thirty years and learned cautiously to respect the beast, you’re supposed now to know him no more, in trade or whist or home or club, nor his woman nor children. Old England’s bloomed out more seductive than ever, and this country’s infatuated. You couldn’t believe it. We’re more English than Canada right now. She’s borrowed everything in sight and is so tickled over herself that she’s beginning to laugh at us already. It’s a fact, her big business men can’t keep the joke any longer.... But I only meant to tell you that _The Public Square_ has nothing to say, nothing to do. We tried a critical study of the architecture of a federal building in Des Moines, and we’re being looked into for unpatriotic motives. A lot of American business men, who once gloried in their breadth and toleration, have taken positions in what they call the Department of Justice, and their business is to probe into speeches and writings like ours. They are looking for heresies of citizenship. If we’re not suspended for making a croak, we’ll likely be forced to suspend for not having the breath. Otherwise, we’re quite well, and the trade world--you ought to be able to hear American business boom, even in India--if you’re not too far inland. For the first time John Higgins’ views looked diminished to Dicky Cobden’s eyes. This personal treason he laid to India. He made an arrangement, however, to help _The Public Square_ to keep alive.... Gandhi was called to Lucknow, and Dicky saw him into his third-class coach, with a catch in his throat and a sadness of heart. A day or two later he left Nagar at the station where he found him--and the day looked dull and gloomy from the windows of the Bombay _Inter Provincial_, as the American started south alone. XXIX RUFUS’ PLAY DAY RUFUS MELTON was having his coffee at Miss Claes’ table. It was noon and July, 1917. The package of mail left at 54 Harrow Street had not forgotten Rufus this morning. Another story had gone through, and he felt that the day was all right. It looked to him like a very good day to play and to shop. Miss Claes came in from the kitchen in a fresh white dress and canvas shoes, nor did she come empty handed. A crystal and silver marmalade jar was in one hand, and a plate of cold ham in the other. These she placed on the cloth before him; and noting that the loaf of rye bread lay uncut upon the board, she went to a drawer for the knife.