“Well, yes,” said he.  “I have done a little in that way, I admit.”

“And dynamite—­have you ever massacred people with dynamite?” Ella continued.

“Well, when my dynamite exploded, the people who were in the immediate neighborhood were never just the same afterward,” said he.

“Finally, did you allow yourself to be worshiped as God?” she asked.

“Yes, I got them to do that,” he replied.  “I have experienced all human sensations, including those of a god in working order.”

“Then I hope you will make a good lunch.  We begin with white-bait.”

“I am quite satisfied to begin with white-bait,” said he.

CHAPTER XIII.

EVEN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS DOESN’T MATTER MUCH.

“I did not intend to stay for lunch,” said Phyllis, “but your overpowering will swept me along with it, Ella.  But I hope you will let me say that I don’t think you should jest about what is—­what some people at any rate think very serious.”

“Phyllis is of Philistia,” said Ella, “and Philistia was always given to ordeal by champions.  She thinks the attack made upon you by two missionaries in their newspaper organ quite disgraceful.  It doesn’t seem so disgraceful after all.”

“I haven’t seen the attack,” said he.  “But I feel it to be very good of Miss Ayrton to think it disgraceful.”

“Of course I thought it disgraceful,” said Phyllis, “and I came to Ella to talk it all over.  The article accuses you of atrocities, and said that a question would shortly be put to the Minister of the Annexation Department in the House of Commons.  Now, I know that there is nothing my father enjoys more than snubbing those detestable men who endeavor to get up a reputation for philanthropy, and temperance, and bimetallism, and other virtues, by putting questions on the paper; and he could, I think, ask some counter question in this particular case that would ridicule the original busybody.”

“It was very good of you to think so, Miss Ayrton,” said he.  “I can’t say that, personally, I mind all the attacks that all the missionaries who earn precarious salaries in South Seas may make upon me; but I must confess that I have a weakness for seeing busybodies put to shame.”

“You may depend upon Mr. Ayrton’s satire,” said Ella.  “It never misses the point in the harness.  The barb of the dart is, I believe, Mr. Ayrton’s, the feather at the other end is Phyllis’.”

“Only once that happened,” said Phyllis.  “Oh, no! papa manufactures his own darts, from feather to tip.”

“But supposing that the charges brought against me are true?” suggested Mr. Courtland.

“Why, then, can’t you see there is all the greater need for ingenuity in your defense?” said Ella.

“It is impossible to think of the charges as true,” said Phyllis stoutly.

“For example?” said he.