don't mean to do anything?"

Tod shook his head.

Malloring flushed. "Now, look here, Freeland," he said, "forgive my
saying so, but this strikes me as a bit cynical. D'you think I enjoy
trying to keep things straight?"

Tod looked up.

"Birds," he said, "animals, insects, vegetable life--they all eat each
other more or less, but they don't fuss about it."

Malloring turned abruptly and went down the path. Fuss! He never
fussed. Fuss! The word was an insult, addressed to him! If there was
one thing he detested more than another, whether in public or private
life, it was 'fussing.' Did he not belong to the League for Suppression
of Interference with the Liberty of the Subject? Was he not a member of
the party notoriously opposed to fussy legislation? Had any one ever
used the word in connection with conduct of his, before? If so, he had
never heard them. Was it fussy to try and help the Church to improve the
standard of morals in the village? Was it fussy to make a simple
decision and stick to it? The injustice of the word really hurt him.
And the more it hurt him, the slower and more dignified and upright
became his march toward his drive gate.

'Wild geese' in the morning sky had been forerunners; very heavy clouds
were sweeping up from the west, and rain beginning to fall. He passed an
old man leaning on the gate of a cottage garden and said: "Good evening!"

The old man touched his hat but did not speak.

"How's your leg, Gaunt?"

"'Tis much the same, Sir Gerald."

"Rain coming makes it shoot, I expect."

"It do."

Malloring stood still. The impulse was on him to see if, after all, the
Gaunts' affair could not be disposed of without turning the old fellow
and his son out.

"Look here!" he said; "about this unfortunate business. Why don't you
and your son make up your minds without more ado to let your
granddaughter go out to service? You've been here all your lives; I
don't want to see you go."

The least touch of color invaded the old man's carved and grayish face.

"Askin' your pardon," he said, "my son sticks by his girl, and I sticks
by my son!"

"Oh! very well; you know your own business, Gaunt. I spoke for your
good."

A faint smile curled the corners of old Gaunt's mouth downward beneath
his gray moustaches.

"Thank you kindly," he said.

Malloring raised a finger to his cap and passed on. Though he felt a
longing to stride his feelings off, he did not increase his p