e had a very disappointing day, and finished up by
getting wet through, so at dinner there were many more danger signals
flying than were usual in the shooting season. The Bradder, however,
did not notice them, or if he did he thought them ridiculous, and he
amused my mother and Nina very much, which under the circumstances was
a grievous offence. I found myself in the position of trying to catch
my tutor's eye, so that I could warn him to be careful with my father,
and although I realized the comedy of the position I did not appreciate
it. To make matters worse The Bradder would not drink any port, and as
it was a wine of which my father was proud, he had to say that he never
drank any wine at all before his refusal was accepted. Teetotalism in
the abstract was a thing which I was encouraged to believe in, but
teetotalers, who did not know when to make an exception to general
rules, were not approved of at our table when '63 port was before them.
Everything seemed to be going most hopelessly wrong, and I was so
anxious to get into the drawing-room that I made several exceedingly
fatuous remarks.

"You talk like a Radical," my father said in answer to one of them;
"you want this changed and that changed, you had better go up to Hyde
Park and take a tub with you, if you want to talk nonsense."

"I probably shouldn't get two people to listen to me," I replied.

"Strahan told me yesterday," he went on, "that they are teaching a lot
of this Radical tomfoolery in Oxford now; he says his son has come home
stuffed with it, thinks agricultural labourers are underpaid and all
the rest. Is it true, Bradfield?"

"I should not say that the feeling at Oxford is as out-and-out Tory as
it was, but the young Radical is often a very ridiculous man," The
Bradder replied, and took a pear off the dish in front of him and began
to peel it.

"Always," my father said.

"Not always; he may conceivably be very sane indeed."

"Never."

The Bradder was quite willing to let the subject drop, but his pear was
a mistake and prevented me from suggesting that we should go.

"You sympathize with this Radical feeling?" my father asked him.

"To some extent I share it."

"I can't believe it, I really can't--why, the Radicals want to ruin the
army, spend no money on the navy, make magistrates of Tom, Dick, and
Harry, and top everything by letting Ireland do what it likes. They
are a dangerous crew."

"I am not a Home-Ruler, though eve