Quite early there was a little breeze between Edward Crampton and Esmeer, who had ventured an opinion about the partition of Poland. Edward was at work then upon the seventh volume of his monumental Life of Kosciusko, and a little impatient with views perhaps not altogether false but betraying a lamentable ignorance of accessible literature. At any rate, his correction of Esmeer was magisterial. After that there was a distinct and not altogether delightful pause, and then some one, it may have been the pale-blue lady, asked Mrs. Lewis whether her aunt Lady Carmixter had returned from her rest-and-sun-cure in Italy. That led to a rather anxiously sustained talk about regimen, and Willie told us how he had profited by the no-breakfast system. It had increased his power of work enormously. He could get through ten hours a day now without inconvenience. “What do you do?” said Esmeer abruptly. “Oh! no end of work. There's all the estate and looking after things.” “But publicly?” “I asked three questions yesterday. And for one of them I had to consult nine books!” We were drifting, I could see, towards Doctor Haig's system of dietary, and whether the exclusion or inclusion of fish and chicken were most conducive to high efficiency, when Britten, who had refused lemonade and claret and demanded Burgundy, broke out, and was discovered to be demanding in his throat just what we Young Liberals thought we were up to? “I want,” said Britten, repeating his challenge a little louder, “to hear just exactly what you think you are doing in Parliament?” Lewis laughed nervously, and thought we were “Seeking the Good of the Community.” “HOW?” “Beneficient Legislation,” said Lewis. “Beneficient in what direction?” insisted Britten. “I want to know where you think you are going.” “Amelioration of Social Conditions,” said Lewis. “That's only a phrase!” “You wouldn't have me sketch bills at dinner?” “I'd like you to indicate directions,” said Britten, and waited. “Upward and On,” said Lewis with conscious neatness, and turned to ask Mrs. Bunting Harblow about her little boy's French. For a time talk frothed over Britten's head, but the natural mischief in Mrs. Millingham had been stirred, and she was presently echoing his demand in lisping, quasi-confidential undertones. “What ARE we Liberals doing?” Then Esmeer fell in with the revolutionaries.