Henry drily.

'I hadn't,' the man persisted. 'If the letters as they talk of were
sent, I never saw 'em. And when the Committee came I was out--on
business. Can't a man be out on his lawful business, Sir Henry,
instead of dancin' attendance on men as know no better than he? The
way this Government is doing things--you might as well live under
the Czar of Russia as in this country. It's no country this for
free men now, Sir Henry.'

'The Czar of Russia has come to grief, my man, for the same reason
that you have,' said Sir Henry, gathering up the reins, 'for
shirking his duty. All very well before the war, but now we can't
afford this kind of thing.'

'And so you've told the Squire to turn me out?' said the man
fiercely, his hands on his sides.

'You've had no notice from Mr. Mannering yet?'

'Not a word.'

'But you've heard from the Inspection Committee?'

The man nodded.

'But it's not they as can turn me out, if the Squire don't agree.'

There was a note of surly defiance in his voice.

'I don't know about that,' said Sir Henry, whose horse was getting
restive. 'My advice to you, Gregson, is to take it quietly, pull
yourself together, and get some other work. There's plenty going
nowadays.'

'Thank you for nothing, Sir Henry. I've got plenty to advise
me--people as I set more store by. I've got a wife and children,
sir, and I shan't give in without a fuss--you may be sure of that.
Good-day to you.'

Sir Henry nodded to him and rode off.

'He'll go, of course,' reflected the rider. 'Our powers are quite
enough. But if I can't get Mannering to send the notice, it'll be a
deal more trouble. Hullo, here's some one else! This is another pair
of boots!'

He had scarcely turned the corner beyond the farm when another man
came running down the sloping field, calling to him. Sir Henry
pulled up his horse again. But his aspect had changed, and his voice
took another note.

'Did you want to speak to me, Adam? A nice day, isn't it?'

'I saw you, Sir Henry, from the top of the field, talking to Gregson
in the road, and I thought perhaps you'd let me have a few words
with you. You know, sir, this is awfully hard lines.'

Sir Henry looked impatient, but the man who had spoken to him was a
fine specimen of young manhood--broad-shouldered, clear-eyed, with a
natural dignity of manner, not at all a person to be brushed aside.

'I'm sure you can't defend Gregson, Adam,' said Sir Henry, 'you--one
of the best fa