"

"I am to forget the old. Certainly, Mrs. Stair. I understand."

'So wise of you!" murmured Mrs. Stair; and she told Marcella that she had conveyed her hint most successfully.

But these minor difficulties were all driven out of Mrs. Stair's head on the day of the dinner-party by a domestic calamity of the first magnitude. The cook fell ill. When Helga took in Mrs. Stair's early tea she was obliged to inform her that Mrs. Moxon had one of her worst bilious attacks, and would not be up that day or the next. She had struggled valiantly against its approaches the day before, and had prepared everything as far as possible.

"But what is the use of that?" cried Mrs. Stair. "How terrible! I'm sure she has done it on purpose. Any one can keep off a bilious attack. That village girl can't finish a dinner. We shall have to put every one off. How angry Miss Stair will be-and all the dinner in the house. I might telegraph to Mrs. Hunt for some one, I suppose, but what suspense we should be in." Helga came towards the bed from the window where she had been putting back curtains and drawing up blinds.

"I have been thinking that if you wished I could telegraph for my mother," she said; "she could be here by twelve o'clock."

mother presented itself in contrast with the fussy under-bred woman fortune had driven her to serve, and it was a contrast that appealed to her sense of humor.

"Well, I'll risk it," said Mrs. Stair. So Helga sent her telegram.

By twelve o'clock Mrs. Byrne was in the kitchen, calming down the flurried mistress of the house, smiling at her fears that she could not cope with the menu, setting the demoralized kitchenmaid to restore a little cleanliness and order.

"I wish you were here always,"

whispered Helga.

Mrs. Byrne attended to the day's work, and made few comments on what she saw. Nevertheless, by teatime, Helga knew for certain that her mother did not approve of the household or of her child's place in it. The moment she arrived she had looked at Helga's cap with astonishment, and at the heavy trays she carried with anxiety.

"I did not understand that you were a servant," she said, when they were by themselves.

"I am not," said Helga, “I am a lady-help."

"What is the difference?"

"I do more work for less money, and I am addressed as Miss Byrne."

"Are your companions also ladyhelps-that sloven in the kitchen?" "No; she is from the village. Mrs. Moxon and Miss Pratt always speak of themselves as ladies. They talk about their lady friends."

At that moment Miss Stair appeared in the kitchen. She took no notice of Mrs. Byrne, but delivered a sharp reprimand to Helga, who had not cleared away the débris left in the morningroom where Miss Stair had been arranging flowers.

"I was just coming," said Helga; "I have not had a moment."

The

"Do it at once, please," said Miss Stair, imperiously. She then looked round the kitchen with an air of contemptuous disapproval, went to the window, and threw it wide open. doors stood open too, there was a fresh breeze outside, and all Mrs. Byrne's meringues were swept from a side table to the floor. She went slowly to the window and shut it again.

"The place is like a bakehouse," said Miss Stair.

"At present the place is a bakehouse," said Mrs. Byrne. "It is not agreeable. But I have a vol-au-vent in the oven, and I can't have a draught."

"Then I hope you will let in a little air when the vol-au-vent is finished," said Miss Stair; and retired with majesty.

"She's cattier than usual because her mash doesn't come up to the scratch," explained Miss Pratt at tea. Mrs. Byrne presided at the tea-tray. Helga was on thorns, for she understood her mother's silences, and the impression made on her by Miss Pratt's conversation and the scullery-maid's artless table manners.

"He's coming to-night," continued Miss Pratt. "He'll take her in, I expect. I don't blame her. I'd have him myself."

"Will you have some more tea?" said Mrs. Byrne.

"I don't mind," said Miss Pratt, passing her cup. "I'm open to a bet if any one will take it. She'll never be Mrs. Clive Ashley."

Mrs. Byrne's startled glance turned to Helga for an explanation.

"The Ashleys have a house near here," said Helga. "They are all coming to dinner to-night."

A silence ensued that Mrs. Byrne did not break until the chance of a moment left her alone with Helga again. Then she spoke.

"You should never have put yourself in this position," she said; "it is quite wrong."

"The Hilles are coming too, and Conrad with them," said Helga. "I knew that they and the Ashleys were often here, but I could not guess that Mrs. Stair would take Mrs. Warwick's house. The Ashleys only arrived a day or two ago. I couldn't leave Mrs. Stair in the lurch suddenly."

"You must come away as soon as possible," said Mrs. Byrne. "I don't like it at all, and your father would be horrified. You must find some

thing more suitable."

Helga did not know whether she dreaded the evening or longed for it; whether she hated the thought of seeing Clive under such conditions or eagerly awaited the moment when they would be face to face again. She feared his displeasure, but feared it with the thrill men never approve or understand in women, the thrill, half joy, half pain, of realizing that he made her conduct his concern, and judged it. Perhaps he would say, as her mother did, that she ought never to have come, and must instantly depart. He would hate being served by her. He would be furious; but his fury would be rooted in his love. What would he do? What would he say? Half an hour before dinner she ran upstairs, rearranged her hair and cap a little, and, looking in the glass, took courage. When she ran down she was told at once that Miss Stair's bell had rung twice. So she ran upstairs again, and arrived rather breathless in the young lady's room.

"I rang twice," said Miss Stair, severely. "Fasten my gown, and take care not to get it crooked. How cold your hands are, and your face is burning! And what have you done to your hair?"

Helga blushed and said nothing.

"You look as if you were going to play a soubrette in a comic opera," said Miss Stair.

"I feel just like that," said Helga.

Ι

"I don't know why you should. hope your mother will send up the dinner properly, and that you and Miss Pratt will not get into muddles."

A moment later there was a second ring; but Miss Stair did not hurry. So when Helga got downstairs the guests bad arrived and were in the drawingroom. She would not see any of them till she announced dinner. When the moment came for her to do this her nerve failed her, and she did it badly, with the door half open so that she could hide behind it. Then, before any of them appeared, she made a rush back to the dining-room and busied herself with the soup tureen. It was probably not correct to turn her back on the guests as they filed in. She neither knew nor cared, but wished the hateful inevitable moment of recognition had come and gone. Yet she persistently turned her back on the room and delayed it. There was a little bustle and hubbub as people found their places and seated themselves. She heard Clive's voice speaking to Marcella, the low refined voice she loved like music. She heard Conrad's cheerful rather shrill one saying something to Lilian Hille about the Alster. Last of all came Mrs. Stair with Mr. Ashley. As Helga turned round she saw him and remembered him, a stout, middle-aged man, with small shrewd eyes, and heavy eyebrows. As a child she had known him, as a girl she had forgotten, and now she knew him again. Then dinner began. Helga ladled out soup, and Miss Pratt carried it round. When every one was served Helga had to offer sherry. She took the decanter and began, as she had been told, with Mrs. Ashley. Marcella sat opposite her aunt in the host's place, with Clive on her right hand and Jack Arden on her left. She looked extremely handsome in a heavy soft silk, the color of cream that has been just tinted with coffee. There was

so much old lace about it that as she sat at table she seemed to be dressed in lace, and the ivory of it was becoming to her pale skin and light eyes and hair. Round her throat she wore pearls.

Helga got past Mrs. Ashley, Conrad, and Lilian Hille without any trouble. None of them took sherry, and none of them looked at her. Then she came to Clive. He was talking to Marcella about the amphitheatre at Nîmes. They had been there together, it seemed.

"I went again in warmer weather," he began, and then he heard Helga's voice, looked up, and recognized her. He did not finish what he was saying, he did not answer Helga, or go on with his dinner just then. He looked at Marcella, and then he looked at his plate. As Helga passed along the opposite side of the table she stole one glance at him, half hoping for one in return. But he did not raise his eyes. The girl pulled herself together with the whole strength of her nature. She must carry through the business of the moment because she had undertaken it, and because others were depending on her. But it was not easy. He knew. He knew, and he looked like that. Conrad knew too by this time, and stared hard at her, and whispered to Lilian Hille. But Conrad did not matter. No one mattered but Clive.

There were seven courses and dessert, various wines, liqueurs, coffee; and Miss Pratt was a blunderer, inclined to clatter and stage whispers. Helga could not attend as much to Clive and Conrad as they did to her. They were preoccupied with her: so much so that they found little to say to Lilian and Marcella. At last the ladies departed, and in course of time the older men followed them. So did Jack Arden, and a cousin who had sat between Violet and Mrs. Hille. Clive Ashley and Conrad were left together.

"I am going to ring the bell," said Clive. "I hope that will bring her."

He stood with his hand on the bell waiting for Conrad to go.

"I must see her after you," said the German. "We both love this lady, one of us must yield to the other, but it seems to me that the one who wins her should know how to save her from such a position as this. I offer her marriage and a home."

"So do I," said Clive.
Conrad went out of the room.

With the object of studying the electoral machinery, party politics, and campaign methods as used at a German Reichstag Election, and also in order to understand the feeling in Germany about British politics, I spent the first fortnight of this year visiting German friends, discussing politics with them, and witnessing German party warfare. The first political meeting which I attended was at Cologne, where a Catholic friend took me to a Ward meeting of the Centre (Catholic) Party. At eight o'clock we reached a large concert hall attached to a beer restaurant. On a low platform was a long table for the speakers. The hall soon filled up, men with a few women sitting at long narrow tables; beer was brought in, which each one paid for, unless he had coffee, lemonade, or some other refreshment. In this way the cost of the hall is met, for the host repays himself from the sale of refreshments. As we went in and came out a collection-plate was offered, in which subscriptions to the election funds were placed. This collecting of funds for the fight is seldom absent from a meeting of the Centre, and never from a Socialist meeting.

Not before 8.30 did the meeting begin; this is the usual hour fixed for election meetings in the cities. The chairman rises, rings his bell, opens the meeting, and announces the "order of the day"; for, as in the House of Commons, there must always be a question before the House; the order of the day may be in a Centre Party gathering, "the danger to religion and morality," with a Liberal meeting "why the Blue-black Block must be smashed," with a Socialist meeting "how the workmen are robbed," or "whom must we thank that the cost of living has so enormously increased"; or on the eve of the poll "for Kaiser and Fatherland" (this in a Conservative meeting), or "take your stand" (this for a Socialist gathering). Then the chief speaker (the Referent) is called on; there is always a Referent stated in advertising a meeting; the term implies something between lecturer, opener, and chief speaker, and is characteristic of the educational method of German politics. The Referent's speech is expected to be long, more or less exhaustive and argumentative. At this meeting it was a newspaper editor who delivered from a man

uscript a full explanation, with many statistics, of the Protectionist policy, the results of the social legislation which the Centre Party has supported, and a defence of the unpopular taxes which the Blue-black Block had imposed. At this, the first meeting I attended, I was anxious whether references to British policy might not be made that would be uncomfortable to me.

But from the first moment I had been set at ease by the chairman of the meeting announcing who were on the platform, and his adding, "We have the honor of having a Member of the English Parliament present": this being greeted with friendly applause, I was relieved; and in all the meetings I subsequently attended, though I heard outspoken criticism of British policy, I had no uncomfortable feelings. I never heard anything like racial hatred or bellicose menace.

This meeting lasted just under four hours, and did not break up till past midnight. The working men, five hundred or so, who composed the audience, were mostly workers from Stollwerck's cocoa works or engineers. They stayed in a body till the close. Some opponents were present, but made no demonstration; it is, in fact, not common to have anything like opposition expressed or hostile interruptions in German political meetings. "Heckling," as we know it by questions to the candidate or speaker, is not known, though occasionally critical interjections are made. But "free discussion" is often offered. This means that an opponent is permitted to speak. He comes to the desk, and for five to ten minutes is allowed to state his point of view. The chief speaker replies to such criticisms of his policy.

The Sunday before the poll I was at an afternoon Socialist meeting in a suburb of Heidelberg. The chief speaker was a trades-union secretary from Mannheim, a Swiss by birth, who

told me in conversation the story of his expulsion from Prussia for taking a leading part in a coal-mine strike. The story had some amusing incidents, but the instructive part of it was that, as the strike developed, he printed and circulated leaflets advising the men to return to work on the terms offered them; these were seized and destroyed by the police on the supposition that they would cause an outbreak, and the action of the police, in having confiscated leaflets which they had not read and of whose advice they were in ignorance, had to be confirmed; so he had come into Baden as an "undesirable alien." His speech rebutted the argument which is so frequently used against the Socialists that they would destroy all religion and are atheists; it took the line that to care for the weak and oppressed and to redress injustice was religious work which the Socialists did and which Jesus would do were He on earth to-day. In the subsequent free discussion a Catholic workman of the Centre Party took the democratic line of argument that religion must always be maintained in the school, because it was the only basis of real education, that army and navy must be maintained and even increased, if other powers, especially England, were unfriendly, but that he could well imagine Germany without any nobility or even without a Kaiser. In reply to this the chief speaker replied that if Germany wanted to defend itself it need only support an army on the lines of the Swiss citizen force, but that, of course, if Germany were invaded by any foreign foe, then every citizen, of whatever politics, would be ready to defend his country with his life.

I arrived at Munich in time to attend a great meeting in the famous Bierhalle, "Zum Münchener Kindl." This hall can accommodate 6,000 persons when the tables are removed; as ar