n the bright little meal, with its simple service and
clever talk, and those dreary formal dinners at home when old Anthony
sometimes never spoke at all, or again used his caustic tongue like a
scourge. Elinor did not hate her father; he was simply no longer her
father. As for Howard, she had had a childish affection for him, but he
had gone away early to school, and she hardly knew him. But she did
not want his child here, drinking in as she was, without clearly
understanding what they meant, Doyle's theories of unrest and
revolution.

"You will find that I am an idealist, in a way," he was saying. "That
is, if you come often. I hope you will, by the way. I am perpetually
dissatisfied with things as they are, and wanting them changed. With
the single exception of my wife"--he bowed to Elinor, "and this little
party, which is delightful."

"Are you a Socialist?" Lily demanded, in her direct way.

"Well, you might call it that. I go a bit further."

"Don't talk politics, Jim," Elinor hastily interposed. He caught her eye
and grinned.

"I'm not talking politics, my dear." He turned to Lily, smiling.

"For one thing, I don't believe that any one should have a lot of
money, so that a taxicab could remain ticking away fabulous sums while a
charming young lady dines at her leisure." He smiled again.

"Will it be a lot?" Lily asked. "I thought I'd better keep him,
because--" She hesitated.

"Because this neighborhood is unlikely to have a cab stand? You
were entirely right. But I can see that you won't like my idealistic
community. You see, in it everybody will have enough, and nobody will
have too much."

"Don't take him too seriously, Miss Cardew," said Akers, bending
forward. "You and I know that there isn't such a thing as too much."

Elinor changed the subject; as a girl she had drawn rather well, and she
had retained her interest in that form of art. There was an exhibition
in town of colored drawings. Lily should see them. But Jim Doyle
countered her move.

"I forgot to mention," he said, "that in this ideal world we were
discussing the arts will flourish. Not at once, of course, because the
artists will be fighting--"

"Fighting?"

"Per aspera ad astra," put in Louis Akers. "You cannot change a world in
a day, without revolution--"

"But you don't believe that revolution is ever worth while, do you?"

"If it would drive starvation and wretchedness from the world, yes."

Lily found Louis Akers inter