But the Negro President had no sooner used the words “Murdered on the Lusitania,” than a chorus of dissent and disapproval broke out all down the table.

“My dear sir, my dear sir,” protested Mr. Bryan, “pray moderate your language a little, if you please.  Murdered?  Oh, dear, dear me, how can we hope to advance the cause of peace if you insist on using such terms?”

“Ain’t it that?  Wasn’t it murder?” asked the President, perplexed.

“We are all agreed here,” said The Lady Pacifist, “that it is far better to call it an incident.  We speak of the ‘Lusitania Incident,’” she added didactically, “just as one speaks of the Arabic Incident, and the Cavell Incident, and other episodes of the sort.  It makes it so much easier to forget.”

“True, quite true,” murmured The Eminent Divine, “and then one must remember that there are always two sides to everything.  There are two sides to murder.  We must not let ourselves forget that there is always the murderer’s point of view to consider.”

But by this time the Negro President was obviously confused and out of his depth.  The conversation had reached a plane of civilisation which was beyond his reach.

The genial Mr. Bryan saw fit to come to his rescue.

“Never mind,” said Mr. Bryan soothingly.  “Our friends here, will soon settle all your difficulties for you.  I’m going to ask them, one after the other, to advise you.  They will tell you the various means that they are about to apply to stop the war in Europe, and you may select any that you like for your use in Haiti.  We charge you nothing for it, except of course your fair share of the price of this grape juice and the shredded nuts.”

The President nodded.

“I am going to ask our friend on my right”—­and here Mr. Bryan indicated The Lady Pacifist—­“to speak first.”

There was a movement of general expectancy and the two obsequious guests at the foot of the table, of whom mention has been made, were seen to nudge one another and whisper, “Isn’t this splendid?”

“You are not asking me to speak first merely because I am a woman?” asked The Lady Pacifist.

“Oh no,” said Mr. Bryon, with charming tact.

“Very good,” said the lady, adjusting her glasses.  “As for stopping the war, I warn you, as I have warned the whole world, that it may be too late.  They should have called me in sooner.  That was the mistake.  If they had sent for me at once and had put my picture in the papers both in England and Germany, with the inscription ’The True Woman of To-day,’ I doubt if any of the men who looked at it would have felt that it was worth while to fight.  But, as things are, the only advice I can give is this.  Everybody is wrong (except me).  The Germans are a very naughty people.  But the Belgians are worse.  It was very, very wicked of the Germans to bombard the houses of the Belgians.  But how naughty of