pocket-book, in which he put the fair copy he had executed on a half-
sheet of note paper, the old Squire came into the room again. Looking
at his face, his visitor saw that the interview with "George" had
evidently been anything but satisfactory, for it bore an expression of
exceedingly low spirits.

"Well, father, what is the matter?" asked his daughter.

"Oh, nothing, my dear, nothing," he answered in melancholy tones.
"George has been here, that is all."

"Yes, and I wish he would keep away," she said with a little stamp of
her foot, "for he always brings some bad news or other."

"It is the times, my dear, it is the times; it isn't George. I really
don't know what has come to the country."

"What is it?" said Ida with a deepening expression of anxiety.
"Something wrong with the Moat Farm?"

"Yes; Janter has thrown it up after all, and I am sure I don't know
where I am to find another tenant."

"You see what the pleasures of landed property are, Colonel Quaritch,"
said Ida, turning towards him with a smile which did not convey a
great sense of cheerfulness.

"Yes," he said, "I know. Thank goodness I have only the ten acres that
my dear old aunt left to me. And now," he added, "I think that I must
be saying good-night. It is half-past ten, and I expect that old Mrs.