lawyer exceedingly pleasant when he learned the object of Grimbal's
visit. Together they drove over to the Red House, and its intending
tenant soon heard all there was to tell respecting price and the
provisions under which the estate was to be disposed of. For this
information he expressed proper gratitude, but gave no hint of his
future actions.

Mr. Ford heard nothing more for a fortnight. Then he ascertained that
John Grimbal was in the metropolis, that the sale of the Red House and
its lands had been conducted by the London agent, and that no penny of
the handsome commission involved would accrue to him. This position of
affairs greatly (and to some extent reasonably) angered the local man,
and he did not forgive what he considered a very flagrant slight.
Extreme acerbity was bred in him, and his mind, vindictive by nature,
cherished from that hour a hearty detestation of John Grimbal. The old
man, his annual holiday ruined by the circumstance, went home to Newton,
vowing vague vengeance and little dreaming how soon opportunity would
offer to deal his enemy a return blow; while the purchaser of the Red
House laughed at Ford's angry letters, told him to his face that he was
a greedy old rascal, and went on his way well pleased with himself and
fully occupied with his affairs.

Necessary preliminaries were hastened; an architect visited the
crumbling fabric of the old Red House and set about his plans. Soon,
upon the ancient foundations, a new dwelling began to rise. The ancient
name was retained at Martin's entreaty and the surrounding property
developed. A stir and hum crept through the domain. Here was planting of
young birch and larch; here clearing of land; here mounds of manure
steamed on neglected fallows. John Grimbal took up temporary quarters in
the home farm that he might be upon the spot at all hours; and what with