last hundred
years. It may be followed by a civilisation that won't be a movement,
because it will rest on the earth. All the signs are against it now, but
I can't help hoping, and very early in the morning in the garden I feel
that our house is the future as well as the past."

They turned and looked at it. Their own memories coloured it now,
for Helen's child had been born in the central room of the nine. Then
Margaret said, "Oh, take care--!" for something moved behind the window
of the hall, and the door opened.

"The conclave's breaking at last. I'll go."

It was Paul.

Helen retreated with the children far into the field. Friendly voices
greeted her. Margaret rose, to encounter a man with a heavy black
moustache.

"My father has asked for you," he said with hostility.

She took her work and followed him.

"We have been talking business," he continued, "but I dare say you knew
all about it beforehand."

"Yes, I did."

Clumsy of movement--for he had spent all his life in the saddle--Paul
drove his foot against the paint of the front door. Mrs. Wilcox gave
a little cry of annoyance. She did not like anything scratched; she
stopped in the hall to take Dolly's boa and gloves out of a vase.

Her husband was lying in a great leather chair in the dining-room, and
by his side, holding his hand rather ostentatiously, was Evie. Dolly,
dressed in purple, sat near the window. The room was a little dark and
airless; they were obliged to keep it like this until the carting of the
hay. Margaret joined the family without speaking; the five of them had
met already at tea, and she knew quite well what was going to be said.
Averse to wasting her time, she went on sewing. The clock struck six.

"Is this going to suit everyone?" said Henry in a weary voice. He used
the old phrases, but their effect was unexpected and shadowy. "Because I
don't want you all coming here later on and complaining that I have been
unfair."

"It's apparently got to suit us," said Paul.

"I beg your pardon, my boy. You have only to speak, and I will leave the
house to you instead."

Paul frowned ill-temperedly, and began scratching at his arm. "As I've
given up the outdoor life that suited me, and I have come home to look
after the business, it's no good my settling down here," he said at
last. "It's not really the country, and it's not the town."

"Very well. Does my arrangement suit you, Evie?"

"Of course, father."

"And you, Dolly?"