“The lecture was a great success,” he said at length. “Many more people than I had expected. I wish you had been there. Only they don’t admit ladies.” “What was it about? Politics, wasn’t it?” “Yes--broadly speaking. Strictly it was on the New Trades Unionism. I traced its development, you know, showing how the spirit has changed. The Old Trades Unions were intensely jealous of State interference, because they looked upon the Government as the natural enemy of labour. But now labour is a powerful element in the State, and means to legislate for itself, and so make State-control the very bulwark of its rights. Of course I went into all kinds of details, but that was the general run of it.” “It must have been awfully clever,” said Lizzie, without much enthusiasm. “Oh, I don’t know,” laughed the young man. “I was a little nervous at first. You see I have spoken often enough, both at the club and in the open air, and then the words come naturally. You get warmed up, you know, and you let them have it straight. But this is the first time I’ve given a set lecture in cold blood, where everything has got to be expressed in chosen language--but it went very well. Mr. Gleam told me I was quite academic.” “He’s a great swell, isn’t he?” asked Lizzie. “Drives his carriage and pair, and lives in the big house with the griffins on the front gates. And you walked back with him?” “Only to the top of the street,” replied Goddard, still sounding an apologetic note. “He wanted to ask me whether I would throw up the workshop and become a paid agent of the National Progressive League.” “Oh, how nice!” said Lizzie. “Yes, it was nice of him,” replied Goddard; “but, of course, I declined.” “Oh, Daniel! How could you? It would have been so much more genteel.” The word jarred upon him. It set the matter in a new light, and made it look very ugly. Besides, it afforded him a not very satisfactory peep into Lizzie’s spiritual horizon. “You don’t mind my being a working-man, do you, Lizzie?” he asked, with some reproach. “Oh, never mind. What’s the odds? We needn’t trouble about it. If you like to wear a dirty apron and have your ’ands all covered over with varnish and turpentine, I’m sure I don’t care.” She tossed her head, and drew a little away from him, so that only his fingers touched her arm. “I don’t think we need discuss that,” said Goddard stiffly--“unless you think I am not good enough for you. In that case you might as well tell me at once.” “Now you’re unkind,” said Lizzie. They walked a few steps in silence, and then Lizzie pulled out a pocket-handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. The young man’s heart softened miraculously. He slid back his arm beneath hers, and drew her a little closer. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Liz. Indeed, I didn’t. What can I do to say I’m sorry?” “You think I don’t care for you,” whimpered Lizzie. “Every one knows I gave up Joe Forster just for you; and he’s got his own tobacco business and keeps an assistant.”