Seymour travelled to promote infamous designs with which you suppose me to be in sympathy. What designs, father?" "Republicanism," said Mr. Manners, not displeased at being brought to the point, "Socialism, Communism, and the overthrow of existing institutions, which are a blessing to mankind." "Ah, but there, you know," said Kingsley, with no departure from his light mood, "you open up debatable matter. It is not disagreeable to me. I was always fond of argument, although I have been accused of too freely wandering away from one upon the slightest excuse. You condemn Republicanism, but I think I would sooner live under a republic than a monarchy." "What you say confirms the accusation I and others bring against you." "Not at all. I am merely expressing my view of a large matter. You see, father, there is so much misery in the world, so much undeserved suffering, so much compulsory poverty, such astounding inequalities in the social condition of the people, that a fair-minded man cannot possibly avoid wishing to remedy these ills. What are you touching the bell for?" "For the servant to show you to the door." "I do not need him; I know my way out. Your time is valuable, and it is inconsiderate of me to take up so much of it. Is my mother in?" "No." "I am sorry; I wished to see her. She is well, I hope." "Quite well. She has not a sorrow in the world. And now, for the last time, leave the room--and the house." His peremptory, harsh tone had no effect upon Kingsley, who, with a genial nod and a "Good-morning, father," left the house with a light step. In the evening he informed Nansie and Mr. Loveday of his visit to his father, and, to their astonishment, described it as one of a pleasant character. Their astonishment was all the greater when they read a letter which was delivered personally to Kingsley. It was from a firm of lawyers, and was written in accordance with instructions received from Mr. Manners. In the first place it conveyed an intimation that Kingsley would not be allowed again to enter his father's house; in the second place it contained a warning that if he made any further endeavor to force himself into his father's presence, proceedings would be taken against him for the trespass. "I think," said Kingsley, "that lawyers must have been invented expressly to torment mankind; they never can put a thing pleasantly. My father, I suppose, is too busy to write to me himself, so he told his lawyers to do so, and they, wishing to make things as unpleasant as possible, send me a communication couched in terms which my father would certainly resent. Of course I shall not go to him again until he sends for me." So saying, he tore up the letter and put it into the fire.