'It'll take me a full day. But never mind; we need not begin
to-night.'

'No, we won't begin to-night!' said the Squire emphatically.
'There!--I've found a chair for you. Is that fire as you like it?'

What astonishing amiability! The attack of nerves which had assailed
Elizabeth upstairs began to disappear. She took the chair the Squire
offered her, cleared a small table, and produced from the
despatch-box she had brought into the room with her a writing-block
and a fountain-pen.

'Do you want to dictate anything?'

'Not at all!' said the Squire. 'I've got nothing ready for
dictating. The work I have done during your absence I shall probably
tear up.'

'But I thought--'

'Well, I daresay--but can't a man change his mind? Greek be hanged!'
thundered the impatient voice. 'I want some conversation with
you--if you will allow me?'

The last words slipped awkwardly into another note. It was as though
a man should exchange the trombone for the flute. Elizabeth held her
peace; but her pulse was beginning to quicken.

'The fact is,' said the Squire, 'I have been thinking over a good
many things--in the last hour.' Then he turned upon her abruptly.
'What was that you were saying to Alice in the hall just now, about
moving your mother into better rooms?'

Elizabeth's parted lips showed her surprise.

'We do want better rooms for her,' she said hesitatingly, after a
moment. 'My sister Joan, who is at home just now, is looking out.
But they are not easy to find.'

'Don't look out!' said the Squire impetuously. 'I have a better plan
to propose to you. In these horrible days people must co-operate and
combine. I know many instances of families sharing a house--and
servants. Beastly, I admit, in the case of a small house. One runs
up against people--and then one hates them. I do! But in the case of
a large house it is different. Now, what do you say to this? Bring
your mother here!'

'Bring--my mother--here?' repeated Elizabeth stupidly. 'I don't
understand.'

'It's very simple.' The Squire stood over her, his thumbs in his
waistcoat pockets, his eyes all vivacity. 'This is a big house--an
old barn, if you like, but big enough. Your mother might have the
whole of the east wing--which looks south--if she pleased; and
neither she nor I need ever come in each other's way, any more than
people who have flats in the same building. I heard you say she had
a nurse. Well, there would be the nurse--and another servant
perh