"I think his rank rather resigned him," Mr. Money observed. "Anyhow, one must in the ordinary world consent to take up with a scamp now and then. Heron says he won't have anything to do with St. Paul, and Lucy undertakes to say for him that he won't be patronized by Lady Limpenny. I ask you all calmly, as civilized and Christian beings, how is a young fellow to get on in London who won't consent to be helped by scamps and old women."
"Mr. Heron represents a political cause," the eager Lucy began.
Her father looked quietly round at her.
"Why, Lucelet, my dear, when did you come to know anything about political causes, or to care about them? I thought you only cared for the renascence of art—isn't it renascence you call it? I understood that politics were entirely beneath the notice of all your school. Pray tell me, Mistress Politician, to which side of politics your father belongs?"
"Oh, papa, for shame! What nonsense! As if I didn't know. Of course you are a Liberal—an advanced Liberal."
"Good; and our friend Heron?"
"An advanced Liberal too. Of course I know that you are on his side."
"That I am on his side? That he is on my side wouldn't do, I suppose, although I am somewhat the elder, and I am in Parliament while he is not in, and is not particularly likely to be if he continues to be so squeamish. What are the political views of our young friend the artist, the poet, the bard, or whatever you please to call him?"
"Mr. Blanchet?" Lucy slightly colored.
"Mr. Blanchet, yes. Am I on his side?"