to Mr. Liversedge.

"Your brother has given you a hint?" said the latter.

"Oh yes! How am I to phrase my introductory remarks?"

"Quite without reference to the political topic."

The others murmured an approval.

"Eustace well again?" asked Quarrier. "He went home with a bad headache
last night."

"He'll be here," answered Mr. Glazzard, laconically. "Liversedge, a
word with you."

The two stepped apart and conversed under cover of the chat that went
on in front of the fire. Mr. Glazzard merely wished for a few hints to
direct him when he introduced the lecturer; he was silent about his
brother's frustrated project.

Fresh members of the committee kept appearing. The room resounded with
talk and laughter. Denzil had a higher colour than usual, but he seemed
perfectly self-possessed; his appearance and colloquial abilities made
a very favourable impression. "Distinct improvement on friend Toby,"
whispered one committee-man to another; and this was the general
opinion. Yet there was some anxiety regarding the address they were
about to hear. Denzil did not look like a man who would mince his words
and go half-way in his opinions. The Woman question was rather a
dangerous one in Polterham just now; that period of Revivalism, and the
subsequent campaign of Mrs. Hitchin, had left a sore feeling in not a
few of the townsfolk. An old gentleman (he had known Denzil as a boy)
ventured to speak of this to the lecturer.

"Don't be afraid, Mr. Toft," was the laughing reply. "You will stand
amazed at my moderation; I am dead against Female Suffrage."

"That is safe, I think. You'll find Mrs. Wade down upon you--but that
doesn't matter."

"Will she attack me in the hall?"

"No, no; we don't have public discussion; but prepare for an assault
to-morrow."

"I shall enjoy it!"

The hall was rapidly filling. Already twice as many people as attended
an ordinary lecture had taken seats, and among them were numerous faces
altogether strange at the Institute, though familiar enough in the
streets of Polterham. Among early arrivals was Mr. Samuel Quarrier,
Denzil's uncle, a white-headed but stalwart figure. He abominated
Radicalism, and was one of the very few "new" men who supported the old
political dynasty of the town. But his countenance manifested no sour
displeasure; he exchanged cheery greetings on all hands, and marched
steadily to the front chairs, his two daughters following. The Mayor,
accompanied by his wife, Mi