“A Dandie Dinmont. We did have a Peke. It was a terrible tragedy. He WOULD go after cats; and one day he struck a fighting Tom, and got clawed over both eyes—quite blinded—and so—”

The young man saw her eyes suddenly too bright. He made a soft noise, and said gently: “That was too bad.”

“I had to change this room completely. It used to be Chinese. It reminded me too much.”

“This little fellow would chaw any cat.”

“Luckily he was brought up with kittens. We got him for his legs—they’re so bowed in front that he can hardly run, so he just suits the pram. Dan, show your legs!”

The Dandie looked up with a negative sound.

“He’s a terrible little ‘character.’ Do tell me, what’s Jon like now? Is he still English?”

The young man was conscious that she had uttered at last something really in her mind.

“He is; but he’s a dandy fellow.”

“And his mother? She used to be beautiful.”

“And is to this day.”

“She would be. Grey, I suppose, by now?”

“Yes. You don’t like her?”

“Well, I hope she won’t be jealous of your sister!”

“I think, perhaps, you’re unjust.”

“I think, perhaps, I am.”

She sat very still, her face hard above the baby’s. And the young man, aware of thoughts beyond his reach, got up.

“When you write to Jon,” she said, suddenly, “tell him that I’m awfully glad, and that I wish him luck. I shan’t write to him myself. May I call you Francis?”

Francis Wilmot bowed. “I shall be proud, ma’am.”

“Yes; but you must call me Fleur. We’re sort of related, you know.”

The young man smiled, and touched the name with his lips.

“Fleur! It’s a beautiful name!”

“Your room will be ready when you come back. You’ll have a bathroom to yourself, of course.”

He put his lips to the hand held out.

“It’s wonderful,” he said. “I was feeling kind of homesick; I miss the sun over here.”

In going out, he looked back. Fleur had put her baby back in its nest, and was staring straight before her.

Chapter II. CHANGE

But more than the death of a dog had caused the regarnishing of Fleur’s Chinese room. On the evening of her twenty-second birth-day Michael had come home saying:

“Well, my child, I’ve chucked publishing. With old Danby always in the right—it isn’t a career.”

“Oh! Michael, you’ll be bored to death.”

“I’ll go into Parliament. It’s quite usual, and about the same screw.”

He had spoken in jest. Six days later it became apparent that she had listened in earnest.

“You were absolutely right, Michael. It’s the very thing for you. You’ve got ideas.”

“Other people’s.”

“And the gift of the gab. We’re frightfully handy for the House, here.”

“It costs money, Fleur.”

“Yes; I’ve spoken to father. It was rather funny—there’s never been a Forsyte, you know, anywhere near Parliament. But he thinks it’ll be good for me; and that it’s all baronets are fit for.”

“One has to have a Seat, unfortunately.”

“Well, I’ve sounded your father, too. He’ll speak to people. They want young men.”

“Ah! And what are my politics?”

“My dear boy, you must know—at thirty.”

“I’m not a Liberal. But am I Labour or Tory?”

“You can think it out before the next election!”

Next day, while he was shaving, and she was in her bath, he cut himself slightly and said:

“The land and this unemployment is what I really care about. I’m a Foggartist.”

“What?”

“Old Sir James Foggart’s book, that he published after all. You read it.”

“No.”

“Well, you said so.”

“So did others.”

“Never mind—his eyes are fixed on 1944, and his policy’s according. Safety in the Air, the Land, and Child Emigration; adjustment of Supply and Demand within the Empire; cut our losses in Europe; and endure a worse Present for the sake of a better Future. Everything, in fact, that’s unpopular, and said to be impossible.”

“Well, you could keep all that to yourself till you get in. You’ll have to stand as a Tory.”

“How lovely you look!”

“If you get in, you can disagree with everybody. That’ll give you a position from the start.”

“Some scheme!” murmured Michael.

“You can initiate this—this Foggartism. He isn’t mad, is he?”

“No, only too sane, which is much the same thing, of course. You see we’ve got a higher wage-scale than any other country except America and the Dominions; and it isn’t coming down again; we really group in with the new countries. He’s for growing as much of our food as we can, and pumping British town children, before they’re spoiled, into the Colonies, till Colonial demand for goods equals our supply. It’s no earthly, of course, without whole-hearted co-operation between the Governments within the Empire.”

“It sounds very sensible.”

“We published him, you know, but at his own expense. It’s a ‘faith and the mountain’ stunt. He’s got the faith all right, but the mountain shows no signs of moving up to now.”

Fleur stood up. “Well,” she said, “that’s settled. Your father says he can get you a nomination as a Tory, and you can keep your own views to yourself. You’ll get in on the human touch, Michael.”

“Thank you, ducky. Can I help dry you?”

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