Macdonald had a sort of cookie shine to-night, and I was invited. The other guests were Mitchell, the assistant-manager of the railway construction department, and Willis, the head of the water department. We played Bridge, and I spent four hours of misery. I hate cards; I can\'t concentrate at all, and I never have the faintest idea what the man on my left has discarded. Willis and I won.

I always look upon cards as a veiled insult to guests. I want to know what a man is thinking when I meet him; on the few occasions on which I have brought out a pack of cards to entertain guests I have done so on the frank realisation that their conversation wasn\'t worth listening to.

Later when we sat round the fire to chat I grudged the time lost over the game. Mitchell had been for many years in India, and his stories of life there were of great interest to me. He did not theorise about India; he accepted without thought the attitude of the average Anglo-Indian ... the nigger is a beast that has to be knocked into shape; the Anglo-Indian mode of government was tip-top, couldn\'t be beat; asses like Keir Hardie ought never to be allowed to put their foot in India; what\'s wrong with India is what\'s wrong with the[Pg 136] working classes here—we give \'em too much education, make \'em discontented.

Willis was of a more intelligent type. He had been all over the world, and, although a Conservative to the backbone, he had made some study of modern problems. He had studied Socialism, thought it a fine thing, but.... "You\'ve got to change human nature first," he said.

*         *         *

If I were writing a novel I should now head a chapter thus:—Chapter XXIV., in Which Macdonald and I become Brothers in Affliction.

He came up to see me to-night.

"You\'ve put your foot in it this time," he began.

"What is it?" I cried in alarm.

"Old Brown—Violet\'s father—wants to slay you. His wife heard from Mrs. Wylie that you said to Wylie that he, Brown, had the intellect of a boiled rabbit."

"That\'s bad," I said in dismay. "The old fool was talking puerile rubbish about the wickedness of the working-classes. Wylie was there, and after Brown had gone I did make the impatient remark that he had the intellect of a boiled rabbit. But, Good Lord! I didn\'t want the thing to go back to his ears. How I can ever look the man in the face again I don\'t know."

"You should have thought of that before you spoke," said Macdonald with a smile.

"Oh," I replied, "I don\'t regret saying it[Pg 137] in the least; at the time I felt it was the only thing to say. What I regret is the meanness of Wylie or his wife. Brown is a decent old chap, and I\'m rather fond of him. Why the devil are people so dirty in mind, Macdonald? We all say things that we don\'t want carried to the person we are speaking about. I say things about you that I would hate you to hear, and I guess that you are in a similar position with regard to me. But the unpardonable social crime is to tell one man what another has said about him. It\'s the lowest down trick I know."

"What\'ll you do about it?"

"I\'ll go straight down to Brown and apologise for Wylie\'s bad taste."

"And your own!"

"Not at all. I\'ll tell him I\'ve said worse things than that about him, but I\'ll implore him not to let them make any difference in our friendship."

"I\'ve got a nasty little problem myself," said Macdonald. "You know that confounded committee of villagers that has charge of the Soup Kitchen Fund?"

"I do," I cried fervently.

"Well, I called a meeting for last night ... and I forgot to post Mrs. Wylie\'s invitation."

"Call that a nasty problem?" I cried; "my dear chap, you\'ve raised a whirlwind and tempest combined ... and there won\'t be any still small voice at the end of \'em either. You\'ve committed the Unforgivable Sin this time."

[Pg 138]

"She\'s in an awful wax," he continued; "says that she never was insulted like this before. She came up to-night and gave me beans ... told me that you were a perfect gentleman!"

"I took care never to omit her when I called the committee," I said modestly.

"She\'ll never forgive me," said Macdonald dolefully.

"Oh, yes she will ... if you play your cards well. Your game is to send a notice of the meeting to the local paper. Then commence a new paragraph thus:—The Convener, Mr. Macdonald, intimated that Mrs. Wylie\'s invitation to the meeting had been unintentionally overlooked, and he expressed his very earnest regret that his mistake had deprived the meeting of the always helpful advice of the injured lady.

"Publicity salves all wounds in the village, Macdonald. Do as I suggest and Mrs. W. will support you for all eternity."

"They are so small-minded," he said.

"They are hyper-sensitive," said I. "Mrs. Wylie is quite sure that you made a mistake. She can forgive you for that, but the thing that she will find it hard to forgive is the fact that you did not pay special attention to her letter, send it by registered post as it were. No one who knows me would accuse me of self-depreciation, but I tell you, Macdonald, every villager down there has more self-appreciation in his little finger than I have in my[Pg 139] whole body. Old Jake Baffers never had a bath in his life, and he would be secretly proud o............