re for half-an-hour revolving the painful
complexities of national life before the voice of Mrs. Petty recalled him
from that sad reverie.

"Dr. Gobang to see you, sir."

At sight of the doctor who had attended him for alcoholic poisoning Mr.
Lavender experienced one or those vaguely disagreeable sensations which
follow on half-realized insults.

"Good-morning, sir," said the doctor; thought I'd just look in and make
my mind easy about you. That was a nasty attack. Do you still feel your
back?"

"No," said Mr. Lavender rather coldly, while Blink growled.

"Nor your head?"

"I have never felt my head," replied Mr. Lavender, still more coldly.

"I seem to remember----" began the doctor.

"Doctor," said Mr. Lavender with dignity, "surely you know that public
men--do not feel--their heads--it would not do. They sometimes suffer
from their throats, but otherwise they have perfect health, fortunately."

The doctor smiled.

"Well, what do you think of the war?" he asked chattily.

"Be quiet, Blink," said Mr. Lavender. Then, in a far-away voice, he
added: "Whatever the clouds which have gathered above our heads for the
moment, and whatever the blows which Fate may have in store for us, we
shall not relax our efforts till we have attained our aims and hurled our
enemies back. Nor shall we stop there," he went on, warming at his own
words. "It is but a weak-kneed patriotism which would be content with
securing the objects for which we began to fight. We shall not hesitate
to sacrifice the last of our men, the last of our money, in the sacred
task of achieving the complete ruin of the fiendish Power which has
brought this great calamity on the world. Even if our enemies surrender
we will fight on till we have dictated terms on the doorsteps of
Potsdam."

The doctor, who, since Mr. Lavender began to speak, had been looking at
him with strange intensity, dropped his eyes.

"Quite so," he said heartily, "quite so. Well, good-morning. I only
just ran in!" And leaving Mr. Lavender to the exultation he was
evidently feeling, this singular visitor went out and closed the door.
Outside the garden-gate he rejoined the nephew Sinkin.

"Well?" asked the latter.

"Sane as you or me," said the doctor. "A little pedantic in his way of
expressing himself, but quite all there, really."

"Did his dog bite you?" muttered the nephew. "No," said the doctor
absently. "I wish to heaven everyone held his views. So long. I must
be ge