NEXT day proved warm and sunny, and we started early,to enjoy the luxury of a good long chat before he would be obliged to leaveme.

`This neighbourhood has more than its due proportion ofthe very poor,' I remarked, as we passed a group of hovels, too dilapidatedto deserve the name of `cottages'.

`But the few rich,' Arthur replied, `give more than theirdue proportion of help in charity. So the balance is kept.'

`I suppose the Earl does a good deal?'

`He gives liberally; but he has not the health or strengthto do more. Lady Muriel does more in the way of school-teaching and cottage-visitingthan she would like me to reveal.'

`Then she, at least, is not one of the "idle mouths" oneso often meets with among the upper classes. I have sometimes thought theywould have a hard time of it, if suddenly called on to give their raisond'être, and to show cause why they should be allowed to live anylonger!'

`The whole subject,' said Arthur, `of what we may call"idle mouths" (I mean persons who absorb some of the material wealth ofa community -- in the form of food, clothes, and so on -- without contributingits equivalent in the form of productive labour) is a complicated one,no doubt. I've tried to think it out. And it seemed to me that the simplestform of the problem, to start with, is a community without money, who buyand sell by barter only; and it makes it yet simpler to suppose the foodand other things to be capable of keeping for many years without spoiling.'

`Yours is an excellent plan,' I said. `What is your solutionof the problem?'

`The commonest type of "idle mouths",' said Arthur, `isno doubt due to money being left by parents to their own children. So Iimagined a man -- either exceptionally clever, or exceptionally strongand industrious -- who had contributed so much valuable labour to the needsof the community that its equivalent, in clothes, etc., was (say) fivetimes as much as he needed for himself. We cannot deny his absolute rightto give the superfluous wealth as he chooses. So, if he leaves four childrenbehind him (say two sons and two daughters), with enough of all the necessariesof life to last them a life-time, I cannot see that the community is inany way wronged if they choose to do nothing in life but to "eat, drink,and be merry". Most certainly, the community could not fairly say, in referenceto them, "if a man will not work, neither let him eat." Their reply wouldbe crushing. "The labour has already been done, which is a fair equivalentfor the food we are eating; and you have had the benefit of it. On whatprinciple of justice can you demand two quotas of work for one quota offood?"'

`Yet surely,' I said, `there is something wrong somewhere,if these four people are well able to do useful work, and if that workis actually needed by the community, and they elect to sit idle?'

`I think there is,' said Arthur: `but it seems to me toarise from a Law of God -- that every one shall do as much as he can tohelp others -- and not from any rights, on the part of the community, toexact labour as an equivalent for food that has already been fairly earned.'

`I suppose the second form of the problem is where the"idle mouths" possess money instead of material wealth?'

`Yes,' replied Arthur: and I think the simplest case isthat of paper-money. Gold is itself a form of material wealth; but a bank-noteis merely a promise to hand over so much material wealth when called uponto do so. The father of these four "idle mouths", had done (let us say)five thousand pounds' worth of useful work for the community. In returnfor this, the community had given him what amounted to a written promiseto hand over, whenever called upon to do so, five thousand pounds' worthof food, etc. Then, if he only uses one thousand pounds' worth himself,and leaves the rest of the notes to his children, surely they have a fullright to present these written promises, and to say "hand over the food,for which the equivalent labour has been already done". Now I think thiscase well worth stating, publicly and clearly. I should like to drive itinto the heads of those Socialists who are priming our ignorant pauperswith such sentiments as "Look at them bloated haristocrats! Doing not astroke o' work for theirselves, and living on the sweat of our brows!"I should like to force them to see that the money, which those "haristocrats"are spending, represents so much labour already done for the community,and whose equivalent, in material wealth, is due from the community.'

`Might not the Socialists reply "Much of this money doesnot represent honest labour at all. If you could trace it back, from ownerto owner, though you might begin with several legitimate steps, such asgifts, or bequeathing by will, or "value received", you would soon reachan owner who had no moral right to it but had got it by fraud or othercrimes; and of course his successors in the line would have no better rightto it than he had.'"

`No doubt, no doubt,' Arthur replied. `But surely thatinvolves the logical fallacy of proving too much? It is quite as applicableto material wealth, as it is to money. If we once begin to go back beyondthe fact that the present owner of certain property came by it honestly,and to ask whether any previous owner, in past ages, got it by fraud, wouldany property be secure?'

After a minute's thought, I felt obliged to admit thetruth of this.

`My general conclusion,' Arthur continued, `from the merestandpoint of human rights, man against man, was this -- that if some wealthy"idle mouth", who has come by his money in a lawful way, even though notone atom of the labour it represents has been his own doing, chooses tospend it on his own needs, without contributing any labour to the communityfrom whom he buys his food and clothes, that community has no right tointerfere with him. But it's quite another thing, when we come to considerthe divine law. Measured by that standard, such a man is undoubtedly doingwrong, if he fails to use, for the good of those in need, the strengthor the skill, that God has given him. That strength and skill do not belongto the community, to be paid to them as a debt: they do not belong to theman himself, to be used for his own enjoyment: they do belong to God, tobe used according to His will; and we are not left in doubt as to whatthis will is. "Do good, and lend, hoping for nothing again."'

`Anyhow,' I said, `an "idle mouth" very often gives awaya great deal in charity.'

`In so-called "charity",' he corrected me. `Excuse meif I seem to speak uncharitably. I would not dream of applying the termto any individual. But I would say, generally, that a man who gratifiesevery fancy that occurs to him -- denying himself in nothing -- and merelygives to the poor some part, or even all, of his superfluous wealth, isonly deceiving himself if he calls it charity.'

`But, even in giving away superfluous wealth, he may bedenying himself the miser's pleasure in hoarding?'

`I grant you that, gladly,' said Arthur. `Given that hehas that morbid craving, he is doing a good deed in restraining it.'

`But, even in spending on himself,' I persisted, `ourtypical rich man often does good, by employing people who would otherwisebe out of work: and that is often better than pauperizing them by givingthe money.'

`I'm glad you've said that!' said Arthur. `I would notlike to quit the subject without exposing the two fallacies of that statement-- which have gone so long uncontradicted that Society now accepts it asan axiom!'

`What are they?' I said. `I don't even see one, myself.'

`One is merely the fallacy of ambiguity -- the assumptionthat "doing good" (that is, benefiting somebody) is necessarily a goodthing to do (that is, a right thing). The other is the assumption that,if one of two specified acts is better than another, it is necessarilya good act in itself. I should like to call this the fallacy of comparison-- meaning that it assumes that what is comparatively good is thereforepositively good.'

`Then what is your test of a good act?'

`That it shall be our best,' Arthur confidently replied.`And even then "we are unprofitable servants". But let me illustrate thetwo fallacies. Nothing illustrates a fallacy so well as an extreme case,which fairly comes under it. Suppose I find two children drowning in apond. I rush in, and save one of the children, and then walk away, leavingthe other to drown. Clearly I have "done good", in saving a child's life?But -- Again, supposing I meet an in offensive stranger, and knock himdown and walk on. Clearly that is "better" than if I had proceeded to jumpupon him and break his ribs? But --'

`Those "buts" are quite unanswerable,' I said. `But Ishould like an instance from real life.'

`Well, let us take one of those abominations of modernSociety, a Charity-Bazaar. It's an interesting question to think out --how much of the money, that reaches the object in view, is genuine charity;and whether even that is spent in the best way. But the subject needs regularclassification, and analysis, to understand it properly.'

`I should be glad to have it analysed,' I said: `it hasoften puzzled me.'

`Well, if I am really not boring you. Let us suppose ourCharity-Bazaar to have been organized to aid the funds of some Hospital:and that A, B, C give their services in making articles to sell, and inacting as salesmen, while X, Y, Z buy the articles, and the money so paidgoes to the Hospital.

`There are two distinct species of such Bazaars: one,where the payment exacted is merely the market-value of the goods supplied,that is, exactly what you would have to pay at a shop: the other, wherefancy-prices are asked. We must take these separately.

`First, the "market-value" case. Here A, B, C are exactlyin the same position as ordinary shopkeepers; the only difference beingthat they give the proceeds to the Hospital. Practically, they are givingtheir skilled labour for the benefit of the Hospital. This seems to meto be genuine charity. And I don't see how they could use it better. ButX, Y, Z are exactly in the same position as any ordinary purchasers ofgoods. To talk of "charity" in connection with their share of the business,is sheer nonsense. Yet they are very likely to do so.

`Secondly, the case of "fancy-prices". Here I think thesimplest plan is to divide the payment into two parts, the "market-value"and the excess over that. The "market-value" part is on the same footingas in the first case: the excess is all we have to consider. Well, A, B,C do not earn it; so we may put them out of the question: it is a gift,from X, Y, Z, to the Hospital. And my opinion is that it is not given inthe best way: far better buy what they choose to buy, and give what theychoose to give, as two separate transactions: then there is some chancethat their motive in giving may be real charity, instead of a mixed motive-- half charity, half self-pleasing. "The trail of the serpent is overit all." And therefore it is that I hold all such spurious "Charities"in utter abomination!' He ended with unusual energy, and savagely beheaded,with his stick, a tall thistle at the road-side, behind which I was startledto see Sylvie and Bruno standing. I caught at his arm, but too late tostop him. Whether the stick reached them, or not, I could not feel sure:at any rate they took not the smallest notice of it, but smiled gaily,and nodded to me: and I saw at once that they were only visible to me:the `eerie' influence had not reached to Arthur.

`Why did you try to save it?' he said. `That's not thewheedling Secretary of a Charity-Bazaar! I only wish it were!' he addedgrimly.

`Does oo know, that stick went right froo my head!' saidBruno. (They had run round to me by this time, and each had secured a hand.)`Just under my chin! I are glad I aren't a thistle!'

`Well, we've threshed that subject out, anyhow!' Arthurresumed. `I'm afraid I've been talking too much, for your patience andfor my strength. I must be turning soon. This is about the end of my tether.'

`Take, O boatman, thrice thy fee;
Take, I give it willingly;
For, invisible to thee,
Spirits twain have crossed with me!'

I quoted, involuntarily.

`For utterly inappropriate and irrelevant quotations,'laughed Arthur, `you are "ekalled by few, and excelled by none"!' And westrolled on.

As we passed the head of the lane that led down to thebeach, I noticed a single figure moving slowly along it, seawards. Shewas a good way off, and had her back to us: but it was Lady Muriel, unmistakably.Knowing that Arthur had not seen her, as he had been looking, in the otherdirection, at a gathering rain-cloud, I made no remark, but tried to thinkof some plausible pretext for sending him back by the sea.

The opportunity instantly presented itself. `I'm gettingtired,' he said. `I don't think it would be prudent to go further. I hadbetter turn here.'

I turned with him, for a few steps, and as we again approachedthe head of the lane, I said, as carelessly as I could, `Don't go backby the road. It's too hot and dusty. Down this lane, and along the beach,is nearly as short; and you'll get a breeze off the sea.'

`Yes, I think I will,' Arthur began; but at that momentwe came into sight of Lady Muriel, and he checked himself. `No, it's toofar round. Yet it certainly would be cooler --' He stood, hesitating, lookingfirst one way and then the other -- a melancholy picture of utter infirmityof purpose!

How long this humiliating scene would have continued,if I had been the only external influence, it is impossible to say; forat this moment Sylvie, with a swift decision worthy of Napoleon himself,took the matter into her own hands. `You go and drive her, up this way,'she said to Bruno. `I'll get him along!' And she took hold of the stickthat Arthur was carrying, and gently pulled him down the lane.

He was totally unconscious that any will but his own wasacting on the stick, and appeared to think it had taken a horizontal positionsimply because he was pointing with it. `Are not those orchises under thehedge there?' he said. `I think that decides me. I'll gather some as Igo along.'

Meanwhile Bruno had run on behind Lady Muriel, and, withmuch jumping about and shouting (shouts audible to no one but Sylvie andmyself), much as if he were driving sheep, he managed to turn her roundand make her walk, with eyes demurely cast upon the ground, in our direction.

The victory was ours! And, since it was evident that thelovers, thus urged together, must meet in another minute, I turned andwalked on, hoping that Sylvie and Bruno would follow my example, as I feltsure that the fewer the spectators the better it would be for Arthur andhis good angel.

`And what sort of meeting was it?' I wondered, as I paceddreamily on.