robbed, or, at best, fed like paupers in soup-kitchens and town-halls—just to show off." This with a savage glance at Travers, for whom the agreeable young man seemed already to cherish no special love. "Society will be no better," he added, "till you sweep it away, root and branch, lock, stock, and barrel," and wildly waving his hands as though on the stump, he inadvertently tilted the épergne opposite him into little Will's face, and the cup of coffee into his own lap.
Gwyneth so far forgot herself as to hide her face in her handkerchief to smother her laughter. The elder Elms, roused and vexed, bid his friend "not make a fool of himself," while Travers thought that it took "many people to make a world." He wondered that his father tolerated this destructive young man among his guests.
"Coffee usen't make father drunk," remarked Willie laconically, as he picked up the flowers.
"You shut up," said the angered youth, "or I'll make it hot for you outside."
"Did I not say that democracy is ever tyrannical," remarked Gwyneth, "when it gets the chance?"
"I've spoilt my best trousers any way," said Dick, beginning to recognize the absurdity of the position. "I beg your pardon. Miss Elms, that righteous indignation should get the better of me."
"I've no patience with you," rejoined the girl. "You're not fit to be here. You're always acting, and the fool is your rôle."
"Why did you not wear the uniform?" demanded the old soldier. "Then you wouldn't have spoiled your own clothes, at least. Moles will wash, which slops won't."
"I never wore moles in my life, and I'm not going to begin now," was the reply.
