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ss kitchen。 And often； as Mr。 Airlie； who was of an inquiring turn of mind； had convinced himself； the only evening meal that resources would permit was the satisfying supper for one brought by the youngest daughter to her father where he sat alone in the small dining…room。
Mr。 Airlie； picking daintily at his food； continued his stories： of philanthropists who paid starvation wages： of feminists who were a holy terror to their women folk： of socialists who travelled first…class and spent their winters in Egypt or Monaco： of stern critics of public morals who preferred the society of youthful affinities to the continued company of elderly wives： of poets who wrote divinely about babies' feet and whose children hated them。
〃Do you think it's all true？〃 Joan whispered to her host。
He shrugged his shoulders。 〃No reason why it shouldn't be；〃 he said。 〃I've generally found him right。〃
〃I've never been able myself；〃 he continued； 〃to understand the Lord's enthusiasm for David。 I suppose it was the Psalms that did it。〃
Joan was about to offer comment； but was struck dumb with astonishment on hearing McKean's voice： it seemed he could talk。 He was telling of an old Scotch peasant farmer。 A mean； cantankerous old cuss whose curious pride it was that he had never given anything away。 Not a crust； nor a sixpence； nor a rag； and never would。 Many had been the attempts to make him break his boast： some for the joke of the thing and some for the need； but none had ever succeeded。 It was his one claim to distinction and he guarded it。
One evening it struck him that the milk…pail； standing just inside the window； had been tampered with。 Next day he marked with a scratch the inside of the pan and； returning later； found the level of the milk had sunk half an inch。 So he hid himself and waited； and at twilight the next day the window was stealthily pushed open； and two small； terror…haunted eyes peered round the room。 They satisfied themselves that no one was about and a tiny hand clutching a cracked jug was thrust swiftly in and dipped into the pan； and the window softly closed。
He knew the thief； the grandchild of an old bed…ridden dame who lived some miles away on the edge of the moor。 The old man stood long； watching the small cloaked figure till it was lost in the darkness。 It was not till he lay upon his dying bed that he confessed it。 But each evening； from that day； he would steal into the room and see to it himself that the window was left ajar。
After the coffee； Mrs。 Phillips proposed their adjourning to the 〃drawing…room〃 the other side of the folding doors； which had been left open。 Phillips asked her to leave Joan and himself where they were。 He wanted to talk to her。 He promised not to bore her for more than ten minutes。
The others rose and moved away。 Hilda came and stood before Joan with her hands behind her。
〃I am going to bed now；〃 she said。 〃I wanted to see you from what Papa told me。 May I kiss you？〃
It was spoken so gravely that Joan did not ask her； as in lighter mood she might have done； what it was that Phillips had said。 She raised her face quietly； and the child bent forward and kissed her； and went out without looking back at either of them； leaving Joan more serious than there seemed any reason for。 Phillips filled his pipe and lighted it。
〃I wish I had your pen；〃 he said； suddenly breaking the silence。 〃I'm all right at talking； but I want to get at the others： the men and women who never come； thinking it has nothing to do with them。 I'm shy and awkward when I try to write。 There seems a barrier in front of me。 You break through it。 One hears your voice。 Tell me；〃 he said； 〃are you getting your way？ Do they answer you？〃
〃Yes；〃 said Joan。 〃Not any great number of them； not yet。 But enough to show that I really am interesting them。 It grows every week。〃
〃Tell them that；〃 he said。 〃Let them hear each other。 It's the same at a meeting。 You wait ten minutes sometimes before one man will summon up courage to put a question； but once one or two have ventured they spring up all round you。 I was wondering；〃 he added； 〃if you would help me； let me use you； now and again。〃
〃It is what I should love；〃 she answered。 〃Tell me what to do。〃 She was not conscious of the low； vibrating tone in which she spoke。
〃I want to talk to them；〃 he said； 〃about their stomachs。 I want them to see the need of concentrating upon the food problem： insisting that it shall be solved。 The other things can follow。〃
〃There was an old Egyptian chap；〃 he said； 〃a governor of one of their provinces； thousands of years before the Pharaohs were ever heard of。 They dug up his tomb a little while ago。 It bore this inscription： 'In my time no man went hungry。' I'd rather have that carved upon my gravestone than the boastings of all the robbers and the butchers of history。 Think what it must have meant in that land of drought and famine： only a narrow strip of river bank where a grain of corn would grow； and that only when old Nile was kind。 If not； your nearest supplies five hundred miles away across the desert； your only means of transport the slow…moving camel。 Your convoy must be guarded against attack； provided with provisions and water for a two months' journey。 Yet he never failed his people。 Fat year and lean year： 'In my time no man went hungry。' And here； to…day； with our steamships and our railways； with the granaries of the world filled to overflowing； one third of our population lives on the border line of want。 In India they die by the roadside。 What's the good of it all： your science and your art and your religion！ How can you help men's souls if their bodies are starving？ A hungry man's a hungry beast。
〃I spent a week at Grimsby； some years ago； organizing a fisherman's union。 They used to throw the fish back into the sea； tons upon tons of it； that men had risked their lives to catch； that would have fed half London's poor。 There was a 'glut' of it； they said。 The 'market' didn't want it。 Funny； isn't it； a 'glut' of food： and the kiddies can't learn their lessons for want of it。 I was talking with a farmer down in Kent。 The plums were rotting on his trees。 There were too many of them： that was the trouble。 The railway carriage alone would cost him more than he could get for them。 They were too cheap。 So nobody could have them。 It's the muddle of the thing that makes me madthe ghastly muddle… headed way the chief business of the world is managed。 There's enough food could be grown in this country to feed all the people and then of the fragments each man might gather his ten basketsful。 There's no miracle needed。 I went into the matter once with Dalroy of the Board of Agriculture。 He's the best man they've got； if they'd only listen to him。 It's never been organized： that's all。 It isn't the fault of the individual。 It ought not to be left to the individual。 The man who makes a corner in wheat in Chicago and condemns millions to privationlikely enough； he's a decent sort of fellow in himself： a kind husband and fatherwould be upset for the day if he saw a child crying for bread。 My dog's a decent enough little chap； as dogs go； but I don't let him run my larder。
〃It could be done with a little good will all round；〃 he continued； 〃and nine men out of every ten would be the better off。 But they won't even let you explain。 Their newspapers shout you down。 It's such a damned fine world for the few： never mind the many。 My father was a farm labourer： and all his life he never earned more than thirteen and sixpence a week。 I left when I was twelve and went into the mines。 There were six of us children； and my mother brought us up healthy and decent。 She fed us and clothed us and sent us to school； and when she died we buried her with the money she had put by for the purpose； and never a penny of charity had ever soiled her hands。 I can see them now。 Talk of your Chancellors of the Exchequer and their problems！ She worked herself to death； of course。 Well； that's all right。 One doesn't mind that where one loves。 If they would only let you。 She had no opposition to contend withno thwarting and hampering at every turnthe very people you are working for hounded on against you。 The difficulty of a man like myself； who wants to do something； who could do something； is that for the best part of his life he is fighting to be allowed to do it。 By the time I've lived down their lies and got my chance； my energy will be gone。〃
He knocked the ashes from his pipe and relit it。
〃I've no quarrel with the rich；〃 he said。 〃I don't care how many rich men there are； so long as there are no poor。 Who does？ I was riding on a bus the other day； and there was a man beside me with a bandaged head。 He'd been hurt in that railway smash at Morpeth。 He hadn't claimed damages from the railway company and wasn't going to。 'Oh； it's only a few scratches；' he said。 'They'll be hit hard enough as it is。' If he'd been a poor devil on eighteen shillings a week it would have been different。 He was an engineer earning good wages； so he wasn't feeling sore and bitter against half the world。 Suppose you tried to run an army with your