A sharp-featured, clever-looking man, with grey locks and shaven face. He seized Mr. Beck by the hand and spoke first, not giving his host time to utter his little set speech.
"I welcome," he said, "one of our fellow-workers from the other side of the Atlantic. I cannot utter to you what I would. We all see too dimly as yet what are our great world-duties, for we try and outline their enlarging shadows. You in America do not seek peace as Menahem sought it, when he gave the King of Assyria a thousand pieces of silver. You fight for your peace and have it. You do not buy what you want; you take it. That is strength; that is harmony. You do not sit at home lisping comfortable prayers; you go out and work. For many a year to come, sir, the sword of your nation shall be whetted to save and to subdue."
He stopped suddenly, and closed his lips with a snap.
Mr. Beck turned rather helplessly to the Twins. He wanted a diversion to this utterly unintelligible harangue. They stared straight before them, and pretended to be absorbed in meditation.
"Mr. Beck, Mr. Swinburne. Deaf people think Mr. Browning is musical, sir; but all people allow Mr. Swinburne to be the most musical of poets."
It was the very young man. He stood before his host and laughed aloud.
"Sir," said Mr. Beck, "I have read some of your verses. I can't say what they were about, but I took to singin' them softly as I read them, and I seemed to be in a green field, lyin' out among the flowers, while the bees were bummin' around, and the larks were liftin' their hymns in the sky."
Mr. Swinburne laughed again and made way for the next comer.
"Mr. Beck, let me introduce Mr. George Augustus Sala."
"This," said the Man of Oil, "is indeed a pleasure. Mr. Sala, when I say that I am an old and personal friend of Colonel Quagg, you will be glad to meet me."