em, make out what he was at. Though by
his adventures and his book, "Peace-a lost Cause," he was, in London,
a conspicuous figure, they had naturally never heard of him; and his
adventure to these parts seemed to them an almost ludicrous example of
pure idea poking its nose into plain facts--the idea that nations ought
to, and could live in peace being so very pure; and the fact that they
never had, so very plain!

At Monkland, which was all Court estate, there were naturally but
few supporters of Miltoun's opponent, Mr. Humphrey Chilcox, and the
reception accorded to the champion of Peace soon passed from curiosity
to derision, from derision to menace, till Courtier's attitude became so
defiant, and his sentences so heated that he was only saved from a rough
handling by the influential interposition of the vicar.

Yet when he began to address them he had felt irresistibly attracted.
They looked such capital, independent fellows. Waiting for his turn to
speak, he had marked them down as men after his own heart. For though
Courtier knew that against an unpopular idea there must always be a
majority, he never thought so ill of any individual as to suppose him
capable of belonging to that ill-omened body.

Surely these fine, independent fellows were not to be hoodwinked by the
jingoes! It had been one more disillusion. He had not taken it lying
down; neither had his audience. They dispersed without forgiving; they
came together again without having forgotten.

The village Inn, a little white building whose small windows were
overgrown with creepers, had a single guest's bedroom on the upper
floor, and a little sitting-room where Courtier took his meals. The rest
of the house was but stone-floored bar with a long wooden bench against
the back wall, whence nightly a stream of talk would issue, all harsh
a's, and sudden soft u's; whence too a figure, a little unsteady, would
now and again emerge, to a chorus of 'Gude naights,' stand still under
the ash-trees to light his pipe, then move slowly home.

But on that evening, when the trees, like cattle, stood knee-deep in the
moon-dust, those who came out from the bar-room did not go away; they
hung about in the shadows, and were joined by other figures creeping
furtively through the bright moonlight, from behind the Inn. Presently
more figures moved up from the lanes and the churchyard path, till
thirty or more were huddled there, and their stealthy murmur of talk
distilled