“And now the missionaries,” said Ella, after a pause.

“And what happened after that?” whispered Phyllis.

He shook his head.

“After that we came away,” he said.  “We couldn’t see that there was any need for us to stay loafing about the forest when we had our business to mind in another direction.  It took us two days, however, finding our launch.”

“And that is what the missionaries call your dynamite outrage against the natives?” said Ella.

“So it would seem,” said he.  “I suppose they managed to get some account of the business; one can’t hush up a dynamite outrage even in the interior of New Guinea.”

“But what a gross misrepresentation of facts it was to say that you had massacred the natives,” cried Phyllis indignantly.

He laughed with a shrug.

“Oh, we must all live,” he said.

“Unless those who treat tins of dynamite as though they were tins of brawn,” said Ella.  Then turning to Phyllis she smiled.

Phyllis had no difficulty interpreting the smile.

“Yes,” she said, “your opinion was quite correct:  Mr. Courtland doesn’t care what people say, and it doesn’t matter in the least what they do say, or what falsehoods are spread abroad.”

“Not in the smallest degree,” said Ella.  “Herbert Courtland is still Herbert Courtland.”

“But so far as I can gather,” said Mr. Courtland, “all that the missionaries said of me was substantially correct.”

“Read the paper and you will see how detestably false all the charges are,” cried Phyllis, rising,—­the servants had now left the room,—­and picking up the Spiritual Aneroid from where Ella had laid it on a chair.

Herbert Courtland had not yet opened it.  He took it from her, saying: 

“Thank you, Miss Ayrton.  But I really don’t see that it concerns me very much whether or not the charges brought against me are true or false.  The matter is certainly one for the—­the—­ah—­Spiritual Aneroid and its special clientele.”

“But a question is to be asked about it in the House of Commons.  I said so just now,” cried Phyllis.

“And even the House of Commons doesn’t matter much,” said Ella.

“That is what papa thought,” said Phyllis meekly.  “Only I know that if Mr. Courtland thought it worth noticing, papa would be quite pleased to put a counter question.  That is why I came here to-day.”

“It was so good of you,” said the man.

“My Phyllis is all that is good.  Let us return to the drawing room,” said Ella, rising.

They returned to the drawing room; but when they had been in the apartment for perhaps four minutes, certainly not five, Phyllis said it was necessary for her to hurry home in order that the afternoon letters should be sent to her father at the House.

With another word of appreciation of her kindness, Mr. Courtland held her hand a second longer than was absolutely necessary to maintain a character for civility.