ive that had far
better die, and your almshouses to keep the old ones going, past all
nature! Shovel the mould over them, that's the thing for the world; let
'em die when they ought to die; and let them live who can live--that's
my way of thinking--and what's more, I'm right."

"What a fine thing for you, Mr. Clarence," cried Phoebe, "who are going
into Parliament! to take up your father's idea and work it out. What a
speech you could make on the subject! I saw a hospital once in Paris
that would make such a wonderful illustration. I'll tell you about it if
you like. Poor old wretched people whose life was nothing but
wretchedness kept going, kept living for years and years--why, no one
could tell; for I am sure it would have been better, far better for them
to die and be done with it. What a speech you might make when you bring
a bill into Parliament to abolish almshouses and all sorts of
charities!" she added with a laugh, turning from Clarence, at whom she
had been looking, to his father, who was puzzled, and did not know how
to understand the young woman's eyes.

"I'll never make much of a speech in Parliament," said Clarence; "unless
you make it for me," he added in an undertone. But no one else was
speaking, and the undertone was quite audible. Meanwhile Phoebe had not
ceased to look at his father, and held him with a pair of eyes not like
the Ancient Mariner's. Mr. Copperhead was confused, his power even of
insolence was cowed for the moment. He obeyed quite docilely the
movement made to leave the table. Was it possible that she defied him,
this Minister's daughter, and measured her strength against his? Mr.
Copperhead felt as if he could have shaken the impertinent girl, but
dared not, being where he was.

And lunch being over, Mr. May led his pupil's father into his study. "I
want to show you what your boy has been doing," he said, pointing to a
line of books which made the millionnaire's soul shrink within him. "I
have not bothered him with classics; what was the use as he is not going
back to Oxford? but I have done my best for him in a practical way. He
has read history, largely as you see, and as much as I could give him of
political and constitutional--"

"Yes, yes," said Mr. Copperhead, reading the titles of some of the books
under his breath. They impressed him deeply, and took away for a moment
his self-confidence. It was his habit to boast that he knew nothing
about books; but in their presence he