cottage children, ransacking Redmire Wood when the pheasants were going
to roost."

Grace, who stood close by with Thorn, indicated the smooth gravel and the
low, wide-topped wall on which red geraniums grew.

"This," she said, "is a great improvement on the old grass bank. The wide
steps and broad slate coping have an artistic effect. However, you can't
often get the things you like without paying."

"Very true, but rather trite," Osborn agreed. "I don't see how it
applies."

"Well, I'm really sympathetic about your spoiled day, but it looks as if
all your disappointments sprang from the same cause."

"Ah!" said Osborn, sharply; "I suppose you mean the coal yards' lease?"

"I think I mean Bell's greediness. If he didn't charge so much for his
coal, Askew would not have cut the peat, and the children would not have
been sent to gather wood. Then Dowthwaite might not have grumbled about
his wall; he feels the farmers have not been treated justly, and I
imagine he blames you."

Osborn knitted his brows. "Then it's an example of the fellow's
wrong-headed attitude! He and one or two others are treated better than
they deserve, and would not be satisfied with anything I did. If you had
to manage the estate, pay extortionate taxes, and make the unnecessary
repairs the farmers demand, it would be interesting to see the line you
would take."

"Perhaps the right line isn't easy," Grace admitted. "Still, if I wanted
a guide, there's the motto of our county town: 'Be just and fear not.'"

Osborn looked at her with indignant surprise, and then shrugged
scornfully. Thorn smiled.

"It's an excellent motto; but they chose it some time since. One imagines
it's out of date now."

Grace colored and moved away, feeling embarrassed. She had made herself
ridiculous, and perhaps sentiment such as she had indulged was cheap; but
it hurt to feel that she, so to speak, stood alone. Although she had, no
doubt, been imprudent, she had said what she felt, and Thorn had smiled.
She turned to him angrily when he followed her along the terrace.

"I daresay I am a raw sentimentalist, but I'm glad I'm not up to date,"
she said. "I hate your modern smartness!"

Thorn, noting the hardness of her voice, stopped with an apologetic
gesture and let her go.

CHAPTER V

RAILTON'S TALLY

Winter had begun, and although the briars shone red along the hedgerows
and the stunted oaks had not lost all their leaves, bitter sleet blew
acr