yard, and a special fragrance attaches to each rick. Is all that to be a thing of the past, and the savour of the silo to be the social atmosphere of the future?"
"You strain the illustration," said Saltren, testily.
"You wish to substitute an aggregate of nastiness for diversified sweets."
"Miss Inglett, I will say no more. I thought you more sympathetic with the aspirations of the despised and down-trodden, with the movement of ideas in the present century."
"I am sympathetic," said Arminell. "But I am as bewildered now as I was this morning. I am just as one who has been spun through the spiral tunnel on the St. Gothard line, when one rushes forth into day: you know neither in which direction you are going, nor to what level you are brought. I dislike your similitude of a silo, and so have a right to criticise it."
"Arminell," said Jingles standing still.
"Mr. Saltren!" The girl reared herself haughtily, and spoke with icy coldness.
"Exactly," laughed the tutor, bitterly. "I thought as much! You will not allow the presumed son of a manganese captain, the humble tutor, to presume an approach of familiarity to the honourable the daughter of a peer."
"I allow no one to presume," said she, haughtily, and turned her back on him, and resumed her walk.
"Yet I have a right," pursued Jingles, striding after her. "Miss Inglett—Arminell, listen to me. I am not the man to presume. I know and am made to feel too sharply my inferiority to desire to take a liberty. But I have a right, and I stand on my right. I have a right to call you by your Christian name, a right which you will acknowledge. I am your brother."
Arminell halted, turned and looked at him from head to foot with surprise mingled with disdain.
