uld have
imagined," he thought, "that my foot-boy's experience of the ways of
gentlefolks would be worth looking back at one day for Allan's sake?"

The object of the popular odium lay innocently slumbering on the grass,
with his garden hat over his nose, his waistcoat unbuttoned, and his
trousers wrinkled half way up his outstretched legs. Midwinter roused
him without hesitation, and remorselessly repeated the servant's news.

Allan accepted the disclosure thus forced on him without the slightest
disturbance of temper. "Oh, hang 'em!" was all he said. "Let's have
another cigar." Midwinter took the cigar out of his hand, and, insisting
on his treating the matter seriously, told him in plain words that he
must set himself right with his offended neighbors by calling on
them personally to make his apologies. Allan sat up on the grass in
astonishment; his eyes opened wide in incredulous dismay. Did Midwinter
positively meditate forcing him into a "chimney-pot hat," a nicely
brushed frock-coat, and a clean pair of gloves? Was it actually in
contemplation to shut him up in a carriage, with his footman on the box
and his card-case in his hand, and send him round from house to house,
to tell a pack of fools that he begged their pardon for not letting them
make a public show of him? If anything so outrageously absurd as this
was really to be done, it could not be done that day, at any rate. He
had promised to go back to the charming Milroy at the cottage and to
take Midwinter with him. What earthly need had he of the good opinion of
the resident gentry? The only friends he wanted were the friends he
had got already. Let the whole neighborhood turn its back on him if it
liked; back or face, the Squire of Thorpe Ambrose didn't care two straws
about it.

After allowing him to run on in this way until his whole stock of
objections was exhausted, Midwinter wisely tried his personal influence
next. He took Allan affectionately by the hand. "I am going to ask a
great favor," he said. "If you won't call on these people for your own
sake, will you call on them to please _me_?"

Allan delivered himself of a groan of despair, stared in mute surprise
at the anxious face of his friend, and good-humoredly gave way. As
Midwinter took his arm, and led him back to the house, he looked round
with rueful eyes at the cattle hard by, placidly whisking their tails in
the pleasant shade. "Don't mention it in the neighborhood," he said; "I
should