were draining—draining; his interest to Government was running on all the same, though his works were stopped, and his tiles deteriorating in value. It was not a soothing consideration, and the Squire was almost ready to quarrel with his shadow. He wanted a vent for his ill-humour; and, suddenly remembering the devastations on his covers, of which he had heard about not a quarter of an hour before, he rode towards the men busy at work on Lord Cumnor’s land. Just before he got up to them he encountered Mr. Preston, also on horseback, come to overlook his labourers. The Squire did not know him personally; but from the agent’s manner of speaking, and the deference that was evidently paid to him, Mr. Hamley saw that he was a responsible person. So he addressed the agent—“I beg your pardon, I suppose you are the manager of these works?”

Mr. Preston replied—“Certainly. I am that and many other things besides, at your service. I have succeeded Mr. Sheepshanks in the management of my lord’s property. Mr. Hamley of Hamley, I believe?”

The Squire bowed stiffly. He did not like his name to be asked, or presumed upon, in that manner. An equal might conjecture who he was, or recognise him; but, till he announced himself, an inferior had no right to do more than address him respectfully as “sir.” That was the Squire’s code of etiquette.

“I am Mr. Hamley of Hamley. I suppose you are as yet ignorant of the boundary of Lord Cumnor’s land, and so I will inform you that my property begins at the pond yonder—just where you see the rise in the ground.”

“I am perfectly acquainted with that fact, Mr. Hamley,” said Mr. Preston, a little annoyed at having such ignorance attributed to him. “But may I inquire why my attention is called to it just now?”

The Squire was beginning to boil over; but he tried to keep his temper in. The effort was very much to be respected, for it was a great one. There was something in the handsome and well-dressed agent’s tone and manner inexpressibly irritating to the Squire, and it was not lessened by an involuntary comparison of the capital roadster on which Mr. Preston was mounted with his own ill-groomed and aged cob.

“I have been told that your men out yonder do not respect these boundaries, but are in the habit of plucking up gorse from my covers to light their fires.”

“It is possible they may!” said Mr. Preston, lifting his eyebrows, his manner being more nonchalant than his words. “I daresay they think no great harm of it. However, I’ll inquire.”

“Do you doubt my word, sir?” said the Squire, fretting his mare till she began to dance about. “I tell you I’ve heard it only within this last half-hour.”

“I don’t mean to doubt your word, Mr. Hamley; it’s the last thing I should think of doing. But you must excuse my saying that the argument which you have twice brought up for the authenticity of your statement, ‘that you have heard it within the last half-hour,’ is not quite so forcible as to preclude the possibility of a mistake.”

“I wish you’d only say in plain language that you doubt my word,” said the Squire, clenching and slightly raising his horsewhip. “I can’t make out what you mean—you use so many words.”

“Pray don’t lose your temper, sir. I said I should inquire. You have not seen the men pulling up the gorse yourself, or you would have named it. I, surely, may doubt the correctness of your information until I have made some inquiry; at any rate, that is the course I shall pursue, and, if it gives you offence, I shall be sorry, but I shall do it just the same. When I am convinced that harm has been done to your property, I shall take steps to prevent it for the future, and of course, in my lord’s name, I shall pay you compensation—it may probably amount to half-a-crown.” He added these last words in a lower tone, as if to himself, with a slight contemptuous smile on his face.