‘An A. V. I was, an A. V. I am no longer; and I defy popular clamour, accompanied by brickbats, to shake my principles.’
‘Justum et tinacem propositi virum,’ murmured Merton, adding, ‘All that is very interesting, but, my dear sir, while I admire the tenacity of your principles, will you permit me to ask, what has vaccination to do with the special business of our firm?’
‘Why, sir, I have a family, and my eldest son—’
‘Does he decline to be vaccinated?’ asked Merton, in a sympathetic voice.
‘No, sir, or he would never darken my doorway,’ exclaimed this more than Roman father. ‘But he is engaged, and I can never give my consent; and if he marries that girl, the firm ceases to be “Warren & Son, wax-cloth manufacturers.” That’s all, sir—that’s all.’
Mr. Warren again applied his red handkerchief to his glowing features.
‘And what, may I ask, are the grounds of your objection to this engagement? Social inequality?’ asked Merton.
‘No, the young lady is the daughter of one of our leading ministers, Mr. Truman—author of The Bishops to the Block—but principles are concerned.’
‘You cannot mean that the young lady is excessively addicted to the—wine cup?’ asked Merton gravely. ‘In melancholy cases of that kind Mr. Hall Caine, in a romance, has recommended hypnotic treatment, but we do not venture to interfere.’
‘You misunderstand me, sir,’ replied Mr. Warren, frowning. ‘The young woman, on principle, as they call it, has never been vaccinated. Like most of our prominent citizens, her father (otherwise an excellent man) objects to what he calls “The Worship of the Calf” on grounds of conscience.’