long fallen out of repair, and was largely grass-grown. A few sheep
were pasturing on it, and a few estate cottages showed here and
there. Sir Henry looked about him with quick eyes. He understood
that the Inspection Sub-Committee, constituted under the Corn
Production Act, and on the look-out for grass-land to put under the
plough, had recommended the ploughing up of all this further end of
Mannering Park. It carried very few sheep under its present
management; and the herd of Jersey cattle that used to graze it had
long since died out. As for the game, it had almost gone--before the
war. No use, either for business or play!

Then--on this early autumn day of 1917--Sir Henry fell to musing on
the vast changes coming over England in consequence of the war. 'Who
would ever have believed that we--_we_ should put ourselves to
school as we have done? Military service, rations, food-prices, all
our businesses "controlled," and now our land looked after! How much
of it has come to stay? Well, it won't affect me much! Ah! is that
the Rector?'

For a hundred yards ahead of him he perceived a clerical figure,
spare and tall, in a wideawake hat, swinging towards him. The
September sun was westering, and behind the approaching man lay
broad stretches of wood, just showing here and there the first
bronze and purple signs of autumn.

The Rector, recognizing the solitary rider, waved his hand in
welcome, and Sir Henry pulled up. The two men, who were evidently
personal friends, exchanged greetings.

'You're going to the Hall, Sir Henry?' said the Rector.