"You farm yourself, don't you?" Allen asked, looking at her rather
timidly.
"Oh, a little; I always say I manage our little farm, and I'm going to
learn to plough. And I keep chickens--this is one of mine--poor little
thing!" she added.
"She pretends to be sorry now, but when she has a chance to sell her
chickens I never saw anyone so bloodthirsty."
"Oh, George, how can you say such things? Don't believe him, Mr. Allen.
And anyhow," she added (it seemed a platitude, but platitudes were
better than absolute silence), "anyhow, I suppose it is what the
chickens are meant for."
To her surprise this mild remark led to an animated argument. For Allen,
in agreeing with her, said something about "the general scheme of
things." Ross began to laugh at this, and asked Allen if he still held
to that old system of his. Allen answered this question so earnestly,
that the lady looked at him with wonder.
Yes! he held to it more firmly than ever; he was sure it could be
maintained! Indeed, seriously he had come to feel more and more that you
must accept something of the kind. Ross dissented in a joking way, but
Allen would not be put off; he began talking rapidly and eagerly, almost
forgetting his dinner as he argued. He drank a great deal of cold water,
and his thin face grew quite flushed with excitement.
Mrs. Ross looked from one to the other with puzzled eyes; probably that
was the way they had been used to talk at Oxford, but what it was about
she could not understand. She only felt sorry for Allen, he evidently
cared so much, was as anxious to prove his point as if his whole life
depended on it, while her husband seemed to treat the whole thing rather
as a joke.
Soon she gave up trying to listen, and though the sound of their voices
was in her ears, her mind wandered out into the garden, to the farm and
meadows. But Allen's voice, appealing to her, called her suddenly back.
"I'm sure you agree with me, Mrs. Ross," he said, without the least
shyness. He plainly looked on her now as nothing but a mind which might
agree or disagree. "I'm sure you must regard it as existing for rational
ends."
"But what do you mean by 'It,' Mr. Allen?" she asked, very much puzzled.
"Why, the universe, of course."
"Oh, I don't know," she said, shaking her head and laughing. "It makes
me dizzy to think of it. As for George, I wouldn't mind what he says,
Mr. Allen; he believes all sorts of dreadful things, and he's always
making fun--look how he's laughing at me now. George, will you have your
coffee in here, or in the drawing-room?"
"Oh, in the drawing-room--we'll come in a minute, when we've settled the
universe." As she went out, she heard them still arguing.
And they had not ended it when they came into the drawing-room a little
later.
"But I deny that pain is an evil. I appeal to you," Allen said, turning
to Mrs. Ross; "don't you think that pain is necessary?"
"But necessary for what, Mr. Allen?"
"Why, if we want to be really happy, I mean," he went on, trying to make
himself quite clear, "I mean, suppose we lived as they do in the
Tropics, sitting under trees all day."