situated. A small and badly-kept estate is not a lucrative
possession."

"Then why don't they keep it up efficiently?"

"Now," said Ainslie, "you're getting at the root of the matter. In my
opinion it's largely a question of character. In fact, after the
glimpses I've had of the wheat-growers in Dakota, Minnesota, and
western Canada, it seems to me that if our people were content to live
and work at home as they do out yonder they would acquire at least a
moderate prosperity. Still, I'm rather afraid that wouldn't appeal to
some of them. As it is, their wants are increasing, and the means of
gratifying them steadily going down."

"All this applies to Mr. Weston in particular?"

"I don't think it would be a breach of confidence if I admitted that
it does. Perhaps, however, I'm a little prejudiced. Weston doesn't
like me. He blames me for encouraging his son in what he calls his
'iconoclastic' notions."

Ida, who was becoming interested, smiled.

"After all," she said, "the comparison isn't very unfavorable to the
son. I believe the original iconoclasts were the image-breakers in
Byzantium."

"Were they? I didn't know it," said Ainslie. "It's a moral certainty
that Weston didn't, either. In fact, I've no doubt he fancies that
Darwin and Bradlaugh, and he'd certainly include Cobden, invented
them. Anyway, the lad wasn't very much of an iconoclast. He believed
in his images, which were not the same as those his father worshiped;
and all he wanted was to see them work. I think it hurt him when they
didn't, or, at least, when they didn't appear to."

"Ah," said Ida, "that's rather too involved for me."

"Well," returned her companion, "we'll leave Weston out. I'm not sure
about what he believes in, and it's probable that, he doesn't know
himself, except that it's everything as it used to be. His wife was
High Church, with altruistic notions, and it's no secret that she made
things rather uncomfortable for her husband; but when she took the lad
in hand she succeeded perhaps too well. You see, he wanted to apply
her principles; and altruism leads to trouble when its possessor comes
across formulas that don't stand for anything."

Just then there was a rattle of wheels outside, and a minute or two
later a little full-fleshed man, with a heavy face, in conventional
dress, entered the hall. He greeted those who stood about, when he had
shaken hands with Kinnaird.

"Sorry I'm a little behind," he apologized. "Had to