Elizabeth's Campaign

r two ha

out before breakfast that morning, on horseback, with one of the gardeners, to see that all the gates on the estate, except the Chetwort

s elsewhere, the County Committee meant to have. As the Squire would not plough them himself, and as the season was advancing, he had been peremptorily informed that the motor plough belonging to the Cou

hand. The Squire felt

in the true Quixotic mood, ready to tilt at any wind-mill in his path. The state of the country, the state of the war, th

ld startle the public into attention. Such outrages on the freedom, on the ancient rights of Englishmen, must not

work when he was excavating in the East. One can always starve-for a purpose! The Squire conceived himself as out for Magna Charta-the root principles of British liberty. As for those chattering fellows of the Labour Party, let t

tious creature, whom a man would like to put down. But it wasn't easy; she slipped out of your grip-gave you unexpected tits for tats. One would have thought after that business with the will, she would be anxious to make up-to show docility. In such a relation one expected docility.

see the precious things he possessed. Her taste-her neatness-her diligence-nothing could beat them. And she moved so quietly-had so light a foot-and always a pleasant voice and smile. Oh yes, she had been a great catch-an astonishing catch-no doubt of that. All the same h

it might be difficult to see, considering all that he was shovelling upon her. He had been very short-perhaps she would say, very rude-with her. Well, it couldn't be hel

t frost on the ruts, helped his general intoxication. He, the supposed scholar and recluse, was about to play a part-a

o De

canic force, from which the outer froth and ferment drew half its strength. He was being forcibly dispossessed of Desmond,

as that black-coated fellow coming through the small wicket-gate beside the big one? What the devil was he doing in the park? There was a permanent grievance in the Squire's mind against the various rights-of-way through his estate. Why shouldn't

oup of men standing under the wall, and was talking with them. They themselves did not seem to

o, Do

roadway, where he stood watching. Of the three others the two old fellows,

g! What have you done?' sa

look

he latch of it up-and we've put a length or two along the top

e hurdles? I expected to

hunter and trapper in his day, took off his hat and mopped his brow, before he

don't loike the job. We be afear

d the Squire angrily. 'You won't

t his employer

please, Muster Mannering. We d

If this abominable Government tramples on

got a powerful big road-engine, Squoire. They'll charge them gates to-morrow-there 'll be a terr'ble to do. My wife, she's frightened to death. She's got a cart from Laycocks, and she's takin' all our bit things over to her mother's. She won't stay, she says, to be blowed up, not for no one. T

re, exasperated. 'The look of you's enoug

said Perley, in a tone

ge slowly, copying the

hands wandered restlessly from his coat-collar to his pockets, his clothes were shabby and torn. But when the Squir

ese fellows'll lend a hand with carrying these things up to the

t so far they would gladly oblige the Squi

observing the whole proceedings from about ten yards off. The expression of the eye roused

that are no business of yours,' he said angrily. 'If you wan

r a job at Crewe. But I'm very fond of country walking when the weather's good. I've walked about a good bit of England, in my time, but this part is a bit I don't know. So, as I had

tly, 'and a right-of-way only means a right of passing through.

t of one pocket; he returned the map to the other. He had the sallow look of one who has spent years in hot workshops, and

he hurdles, which Gregson was now placing in position, and finally the Squire himself. 'I wouldn't have missed it for worlds. It's as good as a play.

d how does it

thing. They'll never believe me. For in their day, you see, there'll be no squires, and no parks. The land 'll be the people's, and all this kin

ooked at him

contemptuously. 'I suppose you're one of thos

us. When the time comes,' he nodded pleasa

indeed you borrow the chap from Russia who's invented the machine for cutting of

his chaffing, reckless temper, an

sh you when you see the results! You perhaps may just live it out-yes, you may die peacea

stopping this accursed war than in talking revolutio

r?' said the other, lifting his ey

ade to work, or fight! willy-nilly. That man's turned out of his farm-willy-nilly. I'm made to tur

With his arms akimbo he stood towering over the

s he looked his ass

hers are dead in France. I shall be "combed" out directly, and a "sniper" will get me, perhaps, three days after I get to the trenches, as he did my young brother. What then? Oh, I know, there's some of us-the young lads mostly-who've got out of hand, and 'll give the Government trouble perhaps before they've done. Who can wonder, when you see the beastly towns they come out of, and the life they were reared in! And none of us are going to stand profiteering, and broken pledges, and that kind of thing!'-a sudden note

mony. His eyes held the Squire, who was for the moment si

D.O.R.A. and winning the war, I'm a good Socialist all the same. I shall be for making

ad not been listening. They stood now in a group close to the main gate waiting for their leader. The Squire walked up to them, picking his way among various articles of furniture,

ver to my sister's at Wood End to-night, afore the milingtary co

County Council are going to send their motor-plough over, and they'll have to break down the gates to get in, so that the law can

. And folks do say as they might even bring a tank along; you know, sir, as there's plenty of 'em, and not fur off.' She nodded mysteriously towards a quarter, never ment

come back!' said the Squire,

s work for all on us nowada

caded with hurdles and barbed wire, wicket-gate and all, and the Squire, taking a poster in large letters from his pocket, affixed it to the outside of the gate. It signified to

e ready palm of Gregson, who was, it seemed, on the point of accepting work as a stock-keeper from another of the Squire's farmers-a brother culprit, only less 'hustled' tha

say to him? He was at once burning to have it out with her, and-though he would

before he saw her again, from a new quarter. The Rector, Mr. Pennington, quite unaware of the doughty deeds that had been done

good friends. The Rector was a bit of a man of the world, and never attempted to put a quart into a pint-pot. He took the Squire as he found him, and would have missed the hospitalities of the Hall-or rather the conversation they implied-if he had been obliged to forgo them.

. For the Rector was actually on his way to try and get a new

iss Bremerton's taken endless trouble. And now we've got an admission for him to the Orthopaedic hospital. But there's a few pounds to be raised f

ved that when children were bow-legged it

nard is a slatternly woman-no doubt of that. But w

or, knowing well that he would get no more at a first assault,

eart besides. You were indeed lucky to find her, and you are very wi

th some horses, is there any choice-but

lever,' he sa

a year or so ago, where everybody who knew them had a great respect for them. The mother was a nice, gentle body, but this elder daughter had most of the wits-though there's a boy in a Worcester regiment th

-a Yeomanry officer?' said

ched, thinking he was ill. At last a letter reached her from a brother officer, who seems to have behaved very kindly-with the explanation. Her fiance had got into the clutches-no one exactly knew how-of a Greek family living in Alexandria, and had compromised himself so badly with one of the daughters, that the father, a cunning old Greek merchant, had compelled him to marry her. Threats of exposure, and all the rest! Th

said the Squire abru

to make a great deal of difference. The mother too broke down in health. Miss Bremerton came home at once, and took everything on her own shoulders. You remember, she heard of your secretaryship from that Balliol man you wrote to-who had been a tutor of hers when she was at Somerville? S

y of us have to do with

f up a little, resenti

ke,' he said, rather indignantly. 'Nothing was further from my in

an do,' said the Squire testi

nowing the obstacles he would encounter in his path-he said to himself that the Squire's manners were re

He had taken for granted that she was one of those single women of the present day whose intellectual interests are enough for them, who have never really felt the call of passion, and can be trusted to look at life sensibly without taking love and marriage into account. To think of Miss

re of the gates, the encounter with the enginee

ibrary windows, he saw Elizabeth's figure at her desk. It annoyed him that she should have gone back to work so soon after her meal. He had constantly made it plain to her that she was not expected to begin work of an a

with her for a day or two-and the news from Russia. Any bad news, indeed, seemed to haunt her; her colour faded away; and if he dictated notes to her, they would be occasionally inaccurate. But that was seldom. In general, he felt that he had made

al work together, nothing indeed could be less docile than Miss Bremerton. How she had withstood him in the matter of the codicil! He could see her

d tell her that the deed was

ry, and made Forest get him some lunch. Then he hung about the hall smoking. It wa

into him, and he walked slowly to the library. As

r his orders, or his repor

hrowing away his cigarette, he walked u

barricade