uld be read to the Shareholders, who
would of course be put into possession of all the facts.

Hemmings had often said to Soames, standing with his coat-tails divided
before the fireplace:

"What our Shareholders don't know about our affairs isn't worth knowing.
You may take that from me, Mr. Soames."

On one occasion, old Jolyon being present, Soames recollected a little
unpleasantness. His uncle had looked up sharply and said: "Don't talk
nonsense, Hemmings! You mean that what they do know isn't worth
knowing!" Old Jolyon detested humbug.

Hemmings, angry-eyed, and wearing a smile like that of a trained poodle,
had replied in an outburst of artificial applause: "Come, now, that's
good, sir--that's very good. Your uncle will have his joke!"

The next time he had seen Soames he had taken the opportunity of saying
to him: "The chairman's getting very old!--I can't get him to understand
things; and he's so wilful--but what can you expect, with a chin like
his?"

Soames had nodded.

Everyone knew that Uncle Jolyon's chin was a caution. He was looking
worried to-day, in spite of his General Meeting look; he (Soames) should
certainly speak to him about Bosinney.

Beyond old Jolyon on the left was little Mr. Booker, and he, too, wore
his General Meeting look, as though searching for some particularly
tender shareholder. And next him was the deaf director, with a frown;
and beyond the deaf director, again, was old Mr. Bleedham, very bland,
and having an air of conscious virtue--as well he might, knowing that the
brown-paper parcel he always brought to the Board-room was concealed
behind his hat (one of that old-fashioned class, of flat-brimmed top-hats
which go with very large bow ties, clean-shaven lips, fresh cheeks, and
neat little, white whiskers).

Soames always attended the General Meeting; it was considered better that
he should do so, in case 'anything should arise!' He glanced round with
his close, supercilious air at the walls of the room, where hung plans of
the mine and harbour, together with a large photograph of a shaft leading
to a working which had proved quite remarkably unprofitable. This
photograph--a witness to the eternal irony underlying commercial
enterprise till retained its position on the--wall, an effigy of the
directors' pet, but dead, lamb.

And now old Jolyon rose, to present the report and accounts.

Veiling under a Jove-like serenity that perpetual antagonism deep-seated
in t