deadliest of industries. In fact, the makers of malgamite, and
fortunately they are comparatively few in number, stricken as they are
by a corroding disease, occupy in our midst the--er--place of the
lepers of the Bible."

Here Lord Ferriby bowed affably to the bishop, as if to say, "And that
is where _you_ come in."

"We--er--live in an age," went on Lord Ferriby--and the practical Joan
nodded her head to indicate that he was on the right track now--"when
charity is no longer a matter of sentiment, but rather a very practical
and forcible power in the world. We do not ask your assistance in a
vague and visionary crusade against suffering. We ask you to help us in
the development of a definite scheme for the amelioration of the
condition of our fellow-beings."

Lord Ferriby spoke not with the ease of long practice, but with the
assurance of one accustomed to being heard with patience. He now waited
for the applause to die away.

"Who put him up to it?" Major White asked Joan.

"Mr. Roden wrote the speech, and I taught it to papa," was the answer.

At this moment Cornish hurried up in his busy way. Indeed, these people
seemed to have little time on their hands. They belonged to a
generation which is much addicted to unnecessary haste.

"Seen Roden?" he asked, addressing his question to Joan and her
companion jointly.