"Do listen to my husband, never silent," said Mrs. Russell. "Did you ever see a man like him?"
There is no real answer to this sort of question, so Kew said "Yo," which is always safe. Then he added, "Do tell me about the little chance."
"This was the little chance," smiled Mrs. Russell. "We ought to have had a tremendously successful peace-meeting in a certain town in Ohio. We had every reason to expect three thousand people, and we thought of proposing the re-naming of the town—calling it Peace. But the little chance was a printer's error—the advertisement gave the date wrong. A crowd turned up at the empty hall, and two days later, when we arrived, they were so tired of us that they booed our demonstration. Just the stupidity of an inky printer between us and success."
"Do you mean to say that but for that we should have had peace by now?" asked Kew in a reverent voice.
"You never know," said Mrs. Russell. "That meeting might have been the match to light the flame of peace all over the world. It's bitterly and satirically funny, isn't it, what Fate will do. Ha-ha-ha."
Cousin Gustus laughed hysterically in chorus, and then said that his head ached, and that he thought he would go to bed early. Anonyma led him away.
"Please don't make peace for a week or two yet," begged Kew. "Let me see what I can do first. I am going to-morrow."
"How foolish of you," said Mrs. Russell. "If you like, I believe I have enough influence to get you to America instead."
"I think I like France best," said Kew. "I don't feel as if I could be content anywhere short of France just now."
"Surely you won't be content anywhere, murdering your fellow-men," said Mrs. Russell. "You won't mind my incurable flippancy, will you? I can't help treating things lightly."