wing. Still, she had heard a good deal about
the Pamments.

She resented being brought there to admire the pleasure grounds and
mansion, and to kow-tow to the grandeur of these mediaeval tyrants.

Old Iden led her on till they came to the smooth lawn before the front
windows; three centuries of mowing had made it as smooth as the top of
his own head, where the years had mown away merrily.

There was not so much as a shrub--not a daisy--between them and the
great windows of the house. They stood in full view.

Amaryllis could scarcely endure herself, so keen was her vexation; her
cheeks reddened. She was obliged to face the house, but her glance was
downwards; she would not look at it.

Grandfather Iden was in the height of his glory. In all Woolhorton town
there was not another man who could do as he was doing at that moment.

The Pamments were very exclusive people, exceptionally exclusive even
for high class Tories. Their gardens, and lawns, and grounds were
jealously surrounded with walls higher than the old-fashioned houses of
the street beneath them. No one dared to so much as peer through a
crevice of the mighty gates. Their persons were encircled with the
"divinity" that hedges the omnipotent landed proprietor. No one dared
speak to a Pamment. They acknowledged no one in the town, not even the
solicitors, not even the clergyman of the Abbey church; that was on
account of ritual differences.

It was, indeed, whispered--high treason must always be whispered--that
young Pamment, the son and heir, was by no means so exclusive, and had
been known to be effusive towards ladies of low birth--and manners.

The great leaders of Greece--Alcibiades, Aristides, and so on--threw
open their orchards to the people. Everyone walked in and did as he
chose. These great leaders of England--the Pamments--shut up their lawns
and pleasure-grounds, sealed them hermetically, you could hardly throw a
stone over the walls if you tried.

But Grandfather Iden walked through those walls as if there were none;
he alone of all Woolhorton town and country.

In that gossipy little town, of course, there were endless surmises as
to the why and wherefore of that private key. Shrewd people said--"Ah!
you may depend they be getting summat out of him. Lent 'em some of his
guineas, a' reckon. They be getting summat out of him. Hoss-leeches,
they gentlefolks."

Grandfather Iden alone entered when he listed: he wandered about the
lawns, he