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 joined with the men in hot discussion, until some tactful soul laughed loudly, and some hostess led the way to music or a dance.

The ladies had just gone after one of those debates, leaving us to our cigars and coffee, when Daddy Small made a proposition which startled me at the time.

"See here," he said to his host and the other men. "Out of this discussion one thing stands clear and straight. It is that in this room, now, at this table, are men of intellect—American and English—men of good-*will towards mankind, men of power in one way or another, who agree that whatever happens there must be eternal friendship between England and the United States."

"Sure!" said a chorus of voices.

"In other countries there are men with the same ideals as ourselves—peace, justice between men and nations, a hatred of cruelty, pity for women and children, charity, and truth. Is that agreed?"

"Sure!" said the other guests.

They were mostly business men, well-to-do, but not of the "millionaire" class, with here and there a writingman, an artist and, as I remember, a clergyman.

"I am going to be a commercial traveller in charity," said the little doctor. "I am going across the frontiers to collect clients for an international society of Good-will. I propose to establish a branch at this table."

The suggestion was received with laughter by some of the men, but, as I saw, with gravity by others.

"What would be the responsibilities, Doctor? Do you want money?"

This was from the manager of an American railroad.

"We shall want a bit," said the doctor. "Not much. Enough for stamps and occasional booklets and typewriting. The chief responsibility would be to spot lies