“I know. In fact, I gather that there are very few representatives of any causes whatever whom you have not had to speak.”
“I see,” said Eddy, “that Pollard has told you all.”
“Pollard has told me some things. And you must remember that I spent both Saturday and Sunday evenings at the Club.”
“What,” inquired Eddy hopefully, “did you think of it?”
Datcherd was silent for a moment. Perhaps he was remembering again how kind it had been of Eddy to manage the Club all this time. When he spoke, it was with admirable moderation.
“It hardly,” he said, “seems quite on the lines I left it on. I was a little surprised, I must own. We had a very small Club on Sunday night, because a lot of them had gone off to some service in church. That surprised me rather. They never used to do that. Of course I don’t mind, but——”
“That’s Traherne,” said Eddy. “He got a tremendous hold on some of them when he came down to speak. He’s always popular, you know, with men and lads.”
“I daresay. What made you get him?”
“Oh, to speak about rents and wages and things. He’s very good. They liked him.”
“That is apparent. He’s dragged some of them into the Church Socialist League, and more to church after him. Well, it’s their own business, of course; if they like the sort of thing, I’ve no objection. They’ll get tired of it soon, I expect.... But, if you’ll excuse my asking, why on earth have you been corrupting their minds with lectures on Tariff Reform, National Service, Ulsterism and Dreadnoughts? Didn’t you realise that one can’t let in that sort of influence without endangering the sanity of a set of half-educated lads? I left them reading Mill; I find them reading Kipling. Upon my word, anyone would think you belonged to the Primrose League, from the way you’ve been going on.”