Upon the final applause followed welcome refreshment. A table laden with dainties gleamed upon the sward. Dymchurch looked after his ladies; but the elder of them soon wandered off amid the friendly throng, and May, who ate and drank with enjoyment, was able to give her companion the promised description of her activity at Northampton. The listener smiled and smiled; had much ado, indeed, not to exhibit open gaiety; but ever and again his eyes rested on the girl's countenance, and its animation so pleased him that he saw even in her absurdities a spirit of good.
"You never did any work of that sort?" inquired May, regarding him from a good-natured height.
"Never, I'm sorry to say."
"But don't you sometimes feel as if it were a duty?"
"I often feel I ought to do something," answered Dymchurch, in a graver voice. "But whether I could be of any use among the poor, is doubtful."
"No, I hardly think you could," said May, reflectively. "Your social position doesn't allow of that. Of course you help to make laws, which is more important."
"If I really did so; but I don't. I have no more part in law-making than you have."
"But, why not?" asked May, gazing at him in surprise. "Surely that is a duty about which you can have no doubt."
"I neglect all duties," he answered.
"How strange! Is it your principle? You are not an Anarchist, Lord Dymchurch?"