“Why, they would say he had lost some of his old pluck; that’s about what they would say, isn’t it?” said Brand; though the fact was that he was thinking a good deal more about the letter in his pocket.

“There was one point, though, Mr. Brand, that I did not put before either Professor ——­ or yourself, and it is important.  The point is, dibs.”

“I beg your pardon,” said Brand, absently; he was, in truth, recalling the various phrases and sentences in that letter of Ferdinand Lind.

“Dibs, sir—­dibs,” said the farmer-agitator, energetically.  “You know what makes the mare go.  And you know these are not the best of times; and some of the lads will be thinking they pay enough into their own Union.  That’s what I want to know, Mr. Brand, before I can advise any one.  You need money; how do you get it?  What’s the damage on joining, and after?”

Brand pulled himself together.

“Oh, money?” said he.  “That need not trouble you.  We exact nothing.  How could we ask people to buy a pig in a poke?  There’s not a working-man in the country but would put us down as having invented an ingenious scheme for living on other people’s earnings.  It is not money we want; it is men.”

“Yes, yes,” said Molyneux, looking rather puzzled.  “But when you’ve got the machine, you want oil, eh?  The basis of everything, sir, is dibs:  what can ye do without it?”

“We want money, certainly,” Brand said.  “But we do not touch a farthing that is not volunteered.  There are no compulsory subscriptions.  We take it that the more a man sees of what we are doing, and of what has to be done, the more he will be willing to give according to his means; and so far there has been no disappointment.”

“H’m!” said Molyneux, doubtfully.  “I reckon you won’t get much from our chaps.”

“You don’t know.  It is wonderful what a touch of enthusiasm will do—­and emulation between the local centers.  Besides, we are always having accessions of richer folk, and these are expected to make up all deficiencies.”

“Ah!” said the other.  “I see more daylight that way.  Now you, Mr. Brand, must have been a good fat prize for them, eh?”

The shrewd inquiring glance that accompanied this remark set George Brand laughing.

“I see, Mr. Molyneux, you want to get at the ‘dibs’ of everything.  Well, I can’t enlighten you any further until you join us:  you have not said whether you will or not.”

“I will!” said the other, bringing his fist down on the table, though he still spoke in a loud whisper.  “I’m your man!  In for a penny, in for a pound!”

“I beg your pardon,” said Brand, politely, “but you are in for neither, unless you like.  You may be in for a good deal of work, though.  You must bring us men, and you will be let off both the penny and the pound.  Now, could you run up with me to London to-night, and be admitted to-morrow, and get to know something of what we are doing?”