Delta rang applause.  But he did not find himself a rich man; and the football has never come in his way again.  From that moment to this moment he has been of no use, that one can see at all.  Still, for that great act we speak of Isaacs gratefully and remember him kindly; and he forges on, hoping to meet the football somewhere again.  In that vague hope, he had arranged a “movement” for a general organization of the human family into Debating-Clubs, County Societies, State Unions, etc., etc., with a view of inducing all children to take hold of the handles of their knives and forks, instead of the metal.  Children have bad habits in that way.  The movement, of course, was absurd; but we all did our best to forward, not it, but him.  It came time for the annual county-meeting on this subject to be held at Naguadavick.  Isaacs came round, good fellow! to arrange for it,—­got the town-hall, got the Governor to preside (the saint!—­he ought to have triplet doubles provided him by law), and then came to get me to speak.  “No,” I said, “I would not speak, if ten Governors presided.  I do not believe in the enterprise.  If I spoke, it should be to say children should take hold of the prongs of the forks and the blades of the knives.  I would subscribe ten dollars, but I would not speak a mill.”  So poor Isaacs went his way sadly, to coax Auchmuty to speak, and Delafield.  I went out.  Not long after he came back, and told Polly that they had promised to speak, the Governor would speak, and he himself would close with the quarterly report, and some interesting anecdotes regarding Miss Biffin’s way of handling her knife and Mr. Nellis’s way of footing his fork.  “Now if Mr. Ingham will only come and sit on the platform, he need not say one word; but it will show well in the paper,—­it will show that the Sandemanians take as much interest in the movement as the Armenians or the Mesopotamians, and will be a great favor to me.”  Polly, good soul! was tempted, and she promised.  She knew Mrs. Isaacs was starving, and the babies,—­she knew Dennis was at home,—­and she promised!  Night came, and I returned.  I heard her story.  I was sorry.  I doubted.  But Polly had promised to beg me, and I dared all!  I told Dennis to hold his peace, under all circumstances, and sent him down.

It was not half an hour more before he returned, wild with excitement,—­in a perfect Irish fury,—­which it was long before I understood.  But I knew at once that he had undone me!

What happened was this.  The audience got together, attracted by Governor Gorges’s name.  There were a thousand people.  Poor Gorges was late from Augusta.  They became impatient.  He came in direct from the train at last, really ignorant of the object of the meeting.  He opened it in the fewest possible words, and said other gentlemen were present who would entertain them better than he.  The audience were disappointed, but waited.  The Governor, prompted by Isaacs, said, “The Honorable