al proceedings
and--and a great fuss--in which naturally he would want his
secretary to help him--'

'You just felt you couldn't? Well, of course I understand that,'
said Pamela fervently. 'But then, you see,' she laughed, 'there
isn't going to be a fuss. The plough just walked in, and the fifty
acres will be done in no time.'

Elizabeth looked as she felt--worried.

'It's very puzzling. I wonder what happened? But I am afraid there
will be other things where your father and I shall disagree--if,
that is, he wants me to do so much else for him than the Greek
work--'

'But you might say that you wouldn't do anything else but the Greek
work?'

'Yes, I might,' said Elizabeth smiling, 'but once I've begun--'

'You couldn't keep to it?--father couldn't keep to it?'

Elizabeth shook her head decidedly. A little smile played about her
lips, as much as to say, 'I am a managing woman and you must take me
at that. "Il ne faut pas sortir de son caractere."' Pamela, looking
at her, admired her for the first time. And now that there was to be
no more question--apparently--of correspondence with Arthur
Chicksands, her mood changed impulsively.

'Well, I'm very sorry!' she said--and then, sincerely, 'I don't know
how the place will get on.'

'Thank you,' said Elizabeth. Her look twinkled a little. 'But you
don't know what I might be after if I stayed!'

Pamela laughed out, and the two walked home, better friends than
they had been yet, Elizabeth asking that the news of her resignation
of her post might be regarded as confidential for a few days.

When they reached the house, Pamela went into the morning-room to
tell her sisters of the tame ending to all their alarms, while
Elizabeth hurried to the library. She was due there at half-past
ten, and she was only just in time. Would the Squire be there? She
remembered that she had to apologize for her absence of the day
before.

She felt her pulse thumping a little as she opened the library
door. There was undoubtedly something about the Squire--some
queer magnetism--born perhaps of his very restlessness and
unexpectedness--that made life in his neighbourhood seldom less
than interesting. His temper this morning would probably be of the
worst. Something, or some one, had defeated all his schemes for a
magnificent assertion of the rights of man. His park was in the
hands of the invaders. The public plough was impudently at work.
And at the same moment his secretary had giv