Phyllis of Philistia Part 11

"It is quite ridiculous, besides being untrue, papa," cried Phyllis; "and I hope that you will not fail to take his part and show the falsehood of such accusations. Could anything be more absurd than that about the slaves? Slaves! Dynamite!"

"Leading up to subscriptions--don't forget that," said her father. "If subscriptions are to be forthcoming, they must be got up. Traffic in human flesh, insults to aborigines, Siberia, the conversion of the Jews--all these appeal directly to the pockets of the Great English People. Any one of them will const.i.tute an excellent peg on which to hang an appeal to the pocket. Those two distinguished pioneers of--well, shall we say civilization or Nonconformity?--understand their business, my dear."

"It is no part of their business to try and hold a brave man up to the execration of everyone."

"I'm not so sure of that. The technicalities of the mission field are not so apparent all at once. The Vineyard--well, the system of vine-culture of some of the organizations is a trifle obscure."

Phyllis became impatient.

"The House of Commons--a question is to be asked in the House. Then you must ask another, papa, showing the nonsense of the first."

"Heavens above! Why should I be dragged into the quarrel, if it is a quarrel, of Herbert Courtland on the one hand and the Reverends Joseph Capper and what's the other, Smith--no, Jones--Evans Jones? I shouldn't wonder if he is of Welsh extraction."

"You will surely not stand pa.s.sively by and hear a brave man slandered.

That would be unlike you, papa. No; you are bound to protest against the falsehood."

"Am I indeed? Why? Because the slandered man, if he is slandered, is the friend of my daughter's friend?"

"Exactly--that's quite sufficient for you to go upon--that and the falsehood."

"If it is a falsehood."

"If--oh, papa--if?"

"If I have your personal guarantee that the statements are unsubstantiated----"

"Now, you are beginning to jest. I cannot jest on so serious an issue.

Think of it--slaves--dynamite!"

"Both excellent words for missionaries to send home to England--almost equal to opium and idols from the standpoint of the mission-box."

Phyllis was solemn for a moment; then she burst into a merry laugh that only wanted a note of merriment to be delightful. Her father did not miss that note. He was thinking of another phrase.

"Now, why shouldn't you say that or something like that, my father?"

cried the girl. "Something to set the House laughing before the Minister of the Annexation Department has had time to reply? You can do it, you know."

"I believe I could," said Mr. Ayrton thoughtfully. "But why, my child; why?"

"Why! Why! Oh, if one only said good things when there was a reason for saying them, how dull we should all be! Any stick for a dog--any jest is good enough for the House of Commons."

"Yes; but suppose it is inferred that I am not on the side of the missionaries? What about Hazelborough?"

Hazelborough was the const.i.tuency which Mr. Ayrton represented in the House of Commons.

"My dear father, where would you be if you couldn't steer through the Hazelborough prejudices now and again? You can always say something so good as to make people not care which way it cuts."

"What? Oh, Phyllis! I am ashamed of you. Besides, the people of Hazelborough have got to be extremely sensitive. They have caught the Nonconformist Conscience. The bacillus of the Nonconformist Conscience was rampant a short time ago, and it has not yet been stamped out. I'm afraid that I must have principle on my side--some show of principle, at any rate--not so wide as a church door or so deep as a well, but still----"

"And you will, too, papa. I'll see Ella and get her to find out from Mr.

Courtland what is the truth."

"Well, perhaps it mightn't be wise to rush into extremes all at once! I wouldn't insist on the truth, if I were you. What's the House of Commons that it should be c.o.c.kered up with the truth? All that is needed is enough to go on with. An electro-plating of veracity is in keeping with the economic tendencies of the age."

"I am not afraid of the truth," cried Phyllis, without giving the cynicism of her father the tribute of a smile. "Mr. Courtland would, I know, be incapable of doing anything unworthy of--of----"

"Let us say an explorer," suggested her father. He knew that the word which was in her mind was _Englishman_. She only checked herself when her imagination caused her to perceive the average silk-hatted man with his tongue in his cheek at the utterance of the phrase. "Let us say 'unworthy of an explorer,'" repeated her father; "that is an elastic phrase."

Phyllis was irritated.

"I have talked with him," she said a trifle coldly.

"Yes," said her father, "once."

"I should have said that I know Ella."

"And yet Ella is a woman!"

"Oh, the charges are too ridiculous! Slaves! What nonsense! We all know what slavery is. Well, where are his slaves now? If he only hired the natives for a month or two they were only servants, not slaves. The thing is manifestly ridiculous."

"Then why should we trouble ourselves with the attempt to rebut it?"

"Because so many people are idiots nowadays," cried Phyllis warmly.

"Because, no matter how ridiculous a charge which is brought against a distinguished person may be, some people will be found ready to believe in its truth. Never mind; I'll find out the truth; I'll go to Ella."

"The fountain-head indeed," said Mr. Ayrton. "When in search of the truth, go to a woman."

"I will, at any rate," said Phyllis.

And she went thither.

CHAPTER XII.

DYNAMITE--SLAVE-DEALING--Ma.s.sACRES--ARMENIA!

Phyllis, of course, knew when to go to Ella with the certainty of finding her at home. At the luncheon hour Mrs. Linton was always visible to the three friends whom she had within the confines of Mayfair. She considered herself blessed among women in the numerical strength of her friendships; and so perhaps she was; she had three.

She was in one of her drawing rooms--the one that was decorated with water colors set in fluted panels of yellow silk--not the one with the pink blinds so beloved by those of her visitors who had reached an age to regard a pink light as a woman's best friend. She was wearing a new gown which Phyllis, in spite of her enthusiasm on behalf of a brave man maligned, found admirable both as regards fabric, fit, and fashion.

Then followed a word or two of commendation of the artists who had been concerned in its production. They had not been absurd about the sleeves, and they had not vetoed the sweep of lace--it was about half a yard wide--which the person who occupied so insignificant a position as is usually allocated to the mere wearer of the gown had suggested for the bodice. The gown was an unequivocal success, and had Ella seen the disgraceful article which had appeared in the _Spiritual Aneroid_ on the subject of Mr. Courtland's explorations?

Ella smiled a slow smile, as the question joined the congratulation without the lapse of a breath.

"The _Spiritual Aneroid_? Who is the _Spiritual Aneroid_? What is the _Spiritual Aneroid_?" she asked. "Oh, a newspaper. What could a newspaper with such a funny name have to say about Mr. Courtland?"

"I have brought it with me," said Phyllis. "It is quite disgraceful. I'm sure you'll agree with me."