The lawns were torn up and trodden down; the gravel path from the
stables looked like a freshly plowed field; every tree and every bush
bore the marks of the marauder.

The head gardener was in a condition of unapproachable ferocity, and it
was generally understood that he had given notice to leave. The
under-gardeners kept out of the way, but could be heard at intervals
checking outbursts of derisive laughter behind the shrubberies. The
story of the Yule log and its adventures was the best joke the country
had had for a long time, and it was bound to lose nothing as it passed
from mouth to mouth. And poor Mr. Wedmore began to dread the ordeal of
congratulations he would have to go through when he next went to church.

Max felt sorry for his father. As he entered the stable-yard, which was
a wide expanse of flagged ground at the back of the house, round which
were many outbuildings, he came upon a group of snickering servants, all
enjoying the story of the master's freak.

The group broke up guiltily on the appearance of Max, the laundry-maids
taking flight in one direction, while the stablemen became suddenly busy
with yard-broom and leather.

Max put a question or two to the groom who saddled his horse for him.

"There was no great harm done last night, was there, except in the
garden? You have not heard of anything being stolen, eh?"

"Well, no, sir. But it brought a lot of people up as had no business
here. There was a person come up as we couldn't get rid of, asking
questions about the family, sir; and about Mr. Horne, too, sir. She