ampled on to boot.

_Now_ he supposed she would refuse to have anything to do with this
kind of thing! She would keep to the letter of her bargain, for the
few weeks that remained. Greek he might expect from her--but not
business.

He opened one or two. Yes, there was no doubt she was a clever
woman--unpardonably and detestably clever. Affairs which had been
mountains for years had suddenly become mole-hills. In this new
phase he felt himself more helpless than ever to deal with them.
She, on the contrary, might have put everything straight--she might
have done anything with him--almost--that she pleased. He would have
got rid of his old fool of an agent and put in another, that she
approved of, if she had wished.

But no!--she must try and dictate to him in public--on a matter of
public action. She must have _everything_ her own way. Opinionated,
self-conceited creature!

When tea-time came he rang for Forest, and demanded that a cup of
tea should be brought him to the library. But as the butler was
leaving the room, he recalled him.

'And tell Miss Bremerton that I shall be glad of her company when
she has finished her tea.'

Forest hesitated.

'I think, sir, Miss Bremerton is out.'

Out!--was she? Her own mistress already!

'Send Miss Pamela here at once,' he commanded.

In a minute or two a girl's quick step was heard, and Pamela ran in.

'Yes, father?'

'Where is Miss Bremerton?' The Squire was standing in front of the
fire, angrily erect. He had delivered his question in the tone of an
ultimatum.

'Why, father, you've forgotten! She arranged with you that she was
to go to tea at the Rectory, and I've just got a note from Mrs.
Pennington to ask if they may keep her for the evening. They'll send
her home.'

'I remember no such arrangement,' said the Squire, in a fury.

'Oh, father--why, I heard her speak to you! And I'm sure she wanted
a little break. She's been looking dead-tired lately, and she said
she had a headache at lunch.'

'Very well. That'll do,' said the Squire, and Pamela departed,
virtuously conscious of having stood by Elizabeth, though she
disliked her.

The Squire felt himself generally cornered. No doubt she was now
telling her story to the Penningtons, who, of course, would
disapprove the gates affair, in any case. The long hours before
dinner passed away. The Squire thought them interminable. Dinner was
a gloomy and embarrassed function. His daughters were afraid of
rousi