ing to this diatribe with rapt attention, "about a visitor to a
seaside hotel, who ordered a bottle of wine. The boy brought up the
wrong kind, so the visitor sent for the landlord and pointed out the
mistake, adducing the label on the bottle as evidence. 'I'm very sorry,
sir, I'm sure,' said the landlord, 'but I'll soon put it right. Boy,
bring another label!' An old story, I am afraid, but it seems to me to
put Party goverment into a nutshell."

I rose, and began to replace the stoppers in the decanters. I was
feeling rather cross. I hate having my settled convictions tampered
with. They are not elastic, and this makes them brittle, and I always
feel nervous about their stability when the intellectual pressure of an
argument grows intense.

"When you two have abolished the British Constitution," I remarked
tartly, "what do you propose to substitute for the present _regime_?"

"'There,'" said Champion, "as the charwoman replied when asked for a
character, 'you _'ave_ me.' Let us join the ladies."

But I was still angry.

"It always seems best to me," I persisted doggedly, "to take up a good
sound line of action and stick to it, and to choose a good sound party
and stick to that. Half a glass of sherry before we go upstairs?"

"No, thanks. That is why I envy you, Adrian," said Champion. "It's a
wearing business for us, being so--so--what shall we call it, Mr
Fordyce?"

"Detached?" suggested Robin.

"That's it."

"Two-faced would be a better word," I growled.

Champion clapped me on the shoulder.

"Adrian," said he, "in time of peace there is always a large, critical,
neutral, and infernally irritating party, for ever philandering betwixt
and between two extremes of opinion. But when war is declared and it
comes to a fight, the ranks close up. There is no room for detachment,
and there are no neutrals. When occasion calls, you'll find all your
friends--your half-hearted, carping, Erastian friends--ranged up tight
beside you. Shall we be trapesing about in Tom Tiddler's ground when the
pinch comes, Mr Fordyce--eh?"

"Never fear!" said Robin.

And I am bound to say that we all of us lived to see John Champion's
assertion made good.

CHAPTER SIX.

ROBIN OFF DUTY.

I have yet to introduce to the indulgent reader two more members of the
family into which I have married.

The first of these is my daughter Phillis, of whom I have already made
passing mention. She is six years old, and appears to b