Sir Henry was conscious of a lump in his throat. He had lost his
youngest son in the retreat from Mons, and two nephews on the Somme.

'It's wonderful,' he said, not very clearly. 'I envy you such a
possession.'

The Squire made no reply. He sat with his long body hunched up in
the deep chair, a pair of brooding eyes fixed on his visitor.

'Well, what is it?' he said again, in a voice that was barely civil.




CHAPTER II


Sir Henry had been talking some time. The Squire had not interrupted
him much, but the papers which Sir Henry had presented to him from
time to time--Government communications, Committee reports, and the
like--were mostly lying on the floor, where, after a perfunctory
glance at them, he had very quickly dropped them.

'Well, that's our case,' said Sir Henry at last, thrusting his hands
into his pockets and leaning back in his chair, 'and I assure you
we've taken a great deal of trouble about it. We shouldn't ask you
or anybody else to do these things if it wasn't vitally necessary
for the food-supply of the country. But we're going to have a narrow
squeak for it next spring and summer, and we _must_ get more food