"You must!" was the unanimous answer.
He struck the attitude of oratory, and successfully overcame his lingering tendency to Yankee mannerisms.
"As we age," he began sententiously, "not many of us really grow wiser. So, if you please, we will--every one of us--be young again--and immediately. That way, and that way only, can we do what the fairies demand of us. Those careless youths, the children, have amazingly good opportunities, if only they knew it."
"Go right on, Barnett!" counselled his wife, who, even in this swelter of excitement, was keeping anxious eyes on the Duchess, hoping she would not be bored. There was little fear of that happening, however bald the new Moss philosophy might be.
The Duchess was, indeed, a fine picture of genial benevolence. She beamed and, practically a presiding presence there, enjoyed something of the satisfaction felt by a patron saint. Her former enemies would not have known her had they dreamed of scrutinizing her in the old cruel way.
"Are you in the mood for elf-wisdom?" the millionaire asked.
"We are!" Geoffrey answered, voicing the general feeling.
"Are you willing--ladies and gentlemen both--to be knights-errant, to go on a quest for the sake of the fairies?"
"We are! We are!"
Every one of them--men and women, boys and girls--answered this time. Would-be Britomarts and Calidores were plentiful as mushrooms in October; but the Blatant Beast they were to pursue was their own vanities, selfishness, vices. "Very well. The first requirement is that you at once write on your dance-programmes some such resolution as this: 'Not a day in this new year shall pass without my having made someone in the world happier by my works.' Phrase it as you please, my friends, but don't mistake my meaning."