“Oh, we get on.  We could do with a little more furniture, but all in good time.”

Piers again listened to his impulse.  He spoke hurriedly of the money he had received, and hinted, suggested, made an embarrassed offer.  Impossible not to remark the gleam of joy that came into Alexander’s eyes; though he vehemently, almost angrily, declared such a thing impossible, it was plain he quivered to accept.  And in the end accept he did—­a round fifty pounds.  A loan, strictly a loan, of course, the most binding legal instrument should be given in acknowledgment of the debt; interest should be paid at the rate of three and a half per cent. per annum—­not a doit less!  And just when this was settled, Bridget came back again, the sleepless baby at her breast.

“He wants to have his share of the good company,” she exclaimed.  “And why shouldn’t he, bless um!”

Alexander grew glorious.  It was one of his peculiarities that, when he had drunk more than enough, he broke into noisy patriotism.

“Piers, have you ever felt grateful enough for being born an Englishman?  I’ve seen the world, and I know; the Englishman is the top of creation.  When I say English, I mean all of us, English, Irish, or Scotch.  Give me an Englishman and an Irishwoman, and let all the rest of the world go hang!—­I’ve travelled, Piers, my boy.  I’ve seen what the great British race is doing the world round; and I’m that proud of it I can’t find words to express myself.”

“I’ve seen something of other races,” interposed Piers, lifting his glass with unsteady hand, “and I don’t think we’ve any right to despise them.”

“I don’t exactly despise them, but I say, What are they compared with us?  A poor lot!  A shabby lot!—­I’m a journalist, Piers, and let me tell you that we English newspaper men have the destiny of the world in our hands.  It makes me proud when I think of it.  We guard the national honour.  Let any confounded foreigner insult England, and he has to reckon with us.  A word from us, and it means war, Piers, glorious war, with triumphs for the race and for civilisation!  England means civilisation; the other nations don’t count.”

“Oh, come——­”

“I tell you they don’t count!” roared Alexander, his hair wild and his beard ferocious.  “You’re not one of the muffs who want to keep England little and tame, are you?”

“I think pretty much with father about these things.”

“The old man!  Oh, I’d forgotten the old man.  But he’s not of our time, Piers; he’s old-fashioned, though a good old man, I admit.  No, no; we must be armed and triple-armed; we must be so strong that not all the confounded foreigners leagued together can touch us.  It’s the cause of civilisation, Piers.  I preach it whenever I get the chance; I wish I got it oftener.  I stand for England’s honour, England’s supremacy on sea and land.  I st-tand——­”

He tried to do so, to reach the bottle, which proved to be empty.