ledge of God are cattle.' And, believing that, would treat
atheists as I should be sorry to treat Friskarina."

"And what is the world of Greyshot like?"

"It is very lukewarm about public questions, and very boiling hot about
its own private affairs," said Erica. "But I have learned now how people
in society can go on contentedly living their easy lives in the midst of
such ignorance and misery. They never investigate, and when any painful
instance is alluded to, they say, 'Oh! But it CAN'T be true!' The
other day they were speaking of Kingsley's pamphlet, 'Cheap clothes and
nasty,' and one lady said that was quite an evil of the past, that the
difficulty nowadays was to get things at reasonable prices. When I told
her that women only get twopence for doing all the machine work of an
ulster, and have to provide their machine, cotton, food, light, and
fuel, she exclaimed, 'Oh, that is incredible! It must be exaggerated!
Such things couldn't be now!' When Aunt Isabel heard that I had known
cases of men being refused admission to a hospital supported by
public subscriptions, on the ground of their atheism, she said it was
impossible. And as to physical ill treatment, or, in fact, any injustice
having ever been shown by Christian to atheist, she would not hear of
it. It was always 'My dear, the atmosphere in which you have lived has
distorted your vision,' or, 'You have been told, my dear, that these
things were so!' To tell her that they were facts which could be
verified was not the smallest good, for she wouldn't so much as touch
any publication connected with secularism."

"None are so blind as those who will not see," said Tom. "They will go
on in this way till some great national crisis, some crash which they
can't ignore, wakes them up from their comfortable state. 'It can't be
true,' is no doubt a capital narcotic."

"Father is at home, I suppose? How do you think he is?"

"Oh, very well, but fearfully busy. The 'Miracles' trial will probably
come on in November."

Erica sighed. There was a silence. She looked out rather sadly at the
familiar Oxford Street shops.

"You have not come back approving of the Blasphemy Laws, I hope?" said
Tom, misinterpreting her sigh.

Her eyes flashed.

"Of course not!" she said, emphatically.

"Mr. Osmond has, as usual, been getting into hot water for speaking a
word on the chieftain's behalf."

"Did he speak? I am glad of that," said Erica, brightening. "I expect
Mr. P