it is or not. What do you think of this book of Oldwinkle's?'
He was holding a volume of humorous stories, which had greatly taken the fancy of the public.
'It's uncommonly good,' replied the journalist, laughing. 'I had a prejudice against the fellow, but he has overcome me. It's more than good farce--something like really strong humour here and there.'
'I quite believe it,' said Peak, 'yet I couldn't read a page. Whatever the mob enjoys is at once spoilt for me, however good I should otherwise think it. I am sick of seeing and hearing the man's name.'
Earwaker shook his head in deprecation.
'Narrow, my boy. One must be able to judge and enjoy impartially.'
'I know it, but I shall never improve. This book seems to me to have a bad smell; it looks mauled with dirty fingers. I despise Oldwinkle for his popularity. To make them laugh, and to laugh _with_ them--pah!'
They debated this point for some time, Peak growing more violent, though his friend preserved a smiling equanimity. A tirade of virulent contempt, in which Godwin exhibited all his powers of savage eloquence, was broken by a visitor's summons at the door.
'Here's Malkin,' said the journalist; 'you'll see each other at last.'
Peak could not at once command himself to the look and tone desirable in meeting a stranger; leaning against the mantelpiece, he gazed with a scowl of curiosity at the man who presented himself, and when he shook hands, it was in silence. But Malkin made speech from the others unnecessary for several minutes. With animated voice and gesture, he poured forth apologies for his failure to keep the appointment of six or seven weeks ago.
'Only the gravest call of duty could have kept me away, I do assure you! No doubt Earwaker has informed you of the circumstances. I telegraphed--I think I telegraphed; didn't I, Earwaker?'
'I have some recollection of a word or two of scant excuse,' replied the journalist.
'But I implore you to consider the haste I was in,' cried Malkin; 'not five minutes, Mr. Peak, to book, to register luggage, to do everything; not five minutes, I protest! But here we are at last. Let us talk! Let us talk!'
He seated himself with an air of supreme enjoyment, and began to cram the bowl of a large pipe from a bulky pouch.
'How stands the fight with Kenyon and Co.?' he cried, as soon as the tobacco was glowing.
Earwaker briefly repeated what he had told Peak.
'Hold out! No surrender and no compromise! What's your opinion, Mr Peak, on the abstract question? Is a popular paper likely, or not, to be damaged in its circulation by improvement of style and tone--within the limits of discretion?'
'I shouldn't be surprised if it were,' Peak answered, drily.
'I'm afraid you're right. There's no use in blinking truths, however disagreeable. But, for Earwaker, that isn't the main issue. What he has to do is to assert himself. Every man's first duty is to assert himself. At all events, this is how I regard the matter. I am all for individualism, for the development of one's personality at whatever cost. No compromise on points of faith! Earwaker has his ideal of journalistic duty, and in a fight with fellows like Runcorn and Kenyon he must stand firm as a rock.'
'I can't see that he's called upon to fight at all,' said Peak. 'He's in a false position; let him get out of it.'
'A false position? I can't see that. No man better fitted than Earwaker to raise the tone of Radical journalism. Here's a big Sunday newspaper practically in his hands; it seems to me that the circumstances give him a grand opportunity of making his force felt. What are we all seeking but an opportunity for striking out with effect?'
Godwin listened with a sceptical smile, and made answer in slow, careless tones.
'Earwaker happens to be employed and paid by certain capitalists to increase the sale of their paper.'
'My dear sir!' cried the other, bouncing upon his seat. 'How can you take such a view? A great newspaper surely cannot be regarded as a mere source of income. These capitalists declare that they have at heart the interests of the working classes; so has Earwaker, and he is far better able than they to promote those interests. His duty is to apply their money to the best use, morally speaking. If he were lukewarm in the matter, I should be the first to advise his retirement; but this fight is entirely congenial to him. I trust he will hold his own to the last possible moment.'
'You must remember,' put in the journalist, with a look of amusement, 'that Peak has no sympathy with Radicalism.'
'I lament it, but that does not affect my argument. If you were a high Tory, I should urge you just as strongly to assert yourself. Surely you agree with this point of mine, Mr. Peak? You admit that a man must develop whatever strength is in him.'
'I'm not at all sure of that.'
Malkin fixed himself sideways in the chair, and examined his collocutor's face earnestly. He endeavoured to subdue his excitement to the tone of courteous debate, but the words that at length escaped him were humorously blunt.
'Then of what _are_ you sure?'
'Of nothing.'
'Now we touch bottom!' cried Malkin. 'Philosophically speaking, I agree with you. But we have to live our lives, and I suppose we must direct ourselves by some conscious principle.'
'I don't see the necessity,' Peak replied, still in an impassive tone. 'We may very well be guided by circumstances as they arise. To be sure, there's a principle in that, but I take it you mean something different.'
'Yes I do. I hold that the will must direct circumstances, not receive its impulse from them. How, then, are we to be guided? What do you set before yourself?'
'To get through life with as much satisfaction and as little pain as possible.'
'You are a hedonist, then. Well and good! Then that is your conscious principle'--
'No, it isn't.'
'How am I to understand you?'
'By recognising that a man's intellectual and moral principles as likely as not tend to anything but his happiness.'
'I can't admit it!' exclaimed Malkin, leaping from his chair. 'What _is_ happiness?'
'I don't know.'
'Earwaker, _what_ is happiness? What _is_ happiness?'
'I really don't know,' answered the journalist, mirthfully.
'This is trifling with a grave question. We all know perfectly well that happiness is the conscious exertion of individual powers. Why is there so much suffering under our present social system? Because the majority of men are crushed to a dead level of mechanical toil, with no opportunity of developing their special faculties. Give a man scope, and happiness is put within his reach.'
'What
