to the defilement
of journalism. We are going to make a similar appeal to the quack
instincts of the credulous."

She laughed softly at him.

"You foolish person," she murmured. "Father has been talking to me
about it for hours at a time. You are taking it for granted that they
will not be able to transmit the qualities of the bean into this new
food, but father is sure that they will. Supposing they succeed, why
should you object? Why should not the whole world share in this thing
which has come to you?"

"I do not know," he answered, a little wearily, "and yet nothing seems
to be able to alter the way I feel about it. It seems as though we were
committing sacrilege. Your father and Mr. Bomford, and now this man
Bunsome, are entirely engrossed in the commercial side of it. If it
were to be a gift to the world, a real philanthropic enterprise, it
would be different."

"The world wasn't made for philanthropists, dear," she reminded him.
"We are only poor human beings, and in our days we have to eat and drink
and love."

"If only Mr. Bomford--" he began--

She laid her fingers warningly upon his arm. Mr. Bomford was coming
across the lawn towards them. "If you go off alone with him," Burton
whispered, "I'll get back the beans and swamp the enterprise. I swear
it."

"If you leave us alone together," she answered softly, "I'll never speak
to you again."

She sprang lightly to her feet.

"Come," she declared, "it is chilly out here to-night. We are all going
back into the drawing-room. I am going to make you listen while I
sing."

Mr. Bomford looked dissatisfied. He was flushed with wine and he spoke
a little thickly.

"If I could have five minutes--" he began.

Edith shook her head.

"I am much too cold," she objected. "Besides, I want to hear Mr.
Bunsome talk about the new discovery. Have you found a title for the
food yet?"

She walked rapidly on with Burton. Mr. Bomford followed them.

"We have decided," he said, "to call it Menatogen."

CHAPTER XXV

DISCONTENT

Burton gave a little start of surprise as he entered Mr. Waddington's
office. Seated on the chair usually occupied by clients, was Ellen.

"My dear Burton," Mr. Waddington exclaimed, with an air of some relief,
"your arrival is most opportune! Your wife has just paid me a visit.
We were discussing your probable whereabouts only a moment ago."

"Rooms all shut up," Ellen declared, "and not a word left behind nor
nothing, and lit