"Well, perhaps you are right, perhaps you are right, my dear," said
the old Squire wearily. "I only hope that my time may come first. I
have lived here all my life, seventy years and more, and I know that I
could not live anywhere else. But God's will be done. And now, my
dear, go to bed."

She leant down and kissed him, and as she did so saw that his eyes
were filled with tears. Not trusting herself to speak, for she felt
for him too deeply to do so, she turned away and went, leaving the old
man sitting there with his grey head bowed upon his breast.



CHAPTER VI

LAWYER QUEST

The day following that of the conversation just described was one of
those glorious autumn mornings which sometimes come as a faint
compensation for the utter vileness and bitter disappointment of the
season that in this country we dignify by the name of summer.
Notwithstanding his vigils and melancholy of the night before, the
Squire was up early, and Ida, who between one thing and another had
not had the best of nights, heard his loud cheery voice shouting about
the place for "George."

Looking out of her bedroom window, she soon perceived that functionary
himself, a long, lean, powerful-looking man with a melancholy face and
a twinkle in his little grey eyes, hanging about the front steps.
Presently her father emerged in a brilliant but ancient dressing gown,