it spoils the whole
thing."

On the following day Raymond was destined to give his cousins still
more reason for wishing that he had not favoured Brenlands with a
visit. At dinner he was full of a project for borrowing a gun, and
having some target practice in the garden.

"I know a man living not far away who's got a nice, little,
single-barrelled muzzle-loader. We might borrow it, and make some
bullets, then stick up a piece of board against that hedge at the end
of the long path, and have a regular shooting match."

"Oh, I don't want any guns here!" said Queen Mab. "I should be afraid
that one of you might get hurt. You'd far better stick to your
croquet."

"Yes," added Valentine. "It would be precious risky work firing
bullets about in this garden with a muzzle-loader."

"Pooh! you're a nice chap to think of being a soldier, if you're afraid
of letting off a gun!"

"Val knows a lot more about guns than you do," broke in Jack. "I
suppose you think a thorn hedge and a bit of board would stop a bullet,
you duffer!"

Raymond lost his temper, and the discussion was carried on in a manner
which was more spirited than polite.

"Come, come," interposed Queen Mab, "I think we might change the
subject. I'm sure Raymond won't want to borrow the gun if he knows it
would make me nervous."

The meal was finished in silence. Anything so near a quarrel had never
been known before at Brenlands, and proved very disturbing in what was
usually such a peaceful atmosphere.

Jack sauntered out into the garden in no very tranquil frame of mind.
Joe Crouch was there, weeding. They had always been good friends ever
since the pear incident, and something in Jack's mode of action on that
occasion seemed to have gained for him an abiding corner in Crouch's
respect and affections.

"Well, Joe, what's the news?"

"Nothing particular that I knows of, sir, but there--there was
somethin' I had to tell you; somethin' about this 'ere young bloke who
comes orderin' every one around, as if the place was his own."

"What's that?"

"Why, I'll tell you," continued Crouch, lowering his voice in a
significant manner. "You remember, sir, you was askin' me this time
last year about a man called Hanks, who'd come up to you wantin' money,
and you didn't know 'ow he'd got to know you. Well, he's in jail now
for stealing fowls; but I seen him a month or so back, and got to know
all about the whole business."

The speaker paused to