he middle of the road by some no doubt quite obvious
but certainly unusual light of his own.

"Why don't we all do the obvious?" thought Bensington. "How the world
would travel if one did! I wonder for instance why I don't do such a
lot of things I know would be all right to do--things I _want_ to do. Is
everybody like that, or is it peculiar to me!" He plunged into obscure
speculation about the Will. He thought of the complex organised
futilities of the daily life, and in contrast with them the plain and
manifest things to do, the sweet and splendid things to do, that some
incredible influences will never permit us to do. Cousin Jane? Cousin
Jane he perceived was important in the question, in some subtle and
difficult way. Why should we after all eat, drink, and sleep, remain
unmarried, go here, abstain from going there, all out of deference to
Cousin Jane? She became symbolical without ceasing to be
incomprehensible!

A stile and a path across the fields caught his eye and reminded him of
that other bright day, so recent in time, so remote in its emotions,
when he had walked from Urshot to the Experimental Farm to see the giant
chicks.

Fate plays with us.

"Tcheck, tcheck," said Cossar. "Get up."

It was a hot midday afternoon, not a breath of wind, and the dust was
thick in the roads. Few people were about, but the deer beyond the park
palings browsed in profound tranquillity. They saw a couple of big wasps
stripping a gooseberry bush just outside Hickleybrow, and another was
crawling up and down the front of the little grocer's shop in the
village street trying to find an entry. The grocer was dimly visible
within, with an ancient fowling-piece in hand, watching its endeavours.
The driver of the waggonette pulled up outside the Jolly Drovers and
informed Redwood that his part of the bargain was done. In this
contention he was presently joined by the drivers of the waggon and the
trolley. Not only did they maintain this, but they refused to let the
horses be taken further.

"Them big rats is nuts on 'orses," the trolley driver kept on repeating.

Cossar surveyed the controversy for a moment.

"Get the things out of that waggonette," he said, and one of his men, a
tall, fair, dirty engineer, obeyed.

"Gimme that shot gun," said Cossar.

He placed himself between the drivers. "We don't want _you_ to drive,"
he said.

"You can say what you like," he conceded, "but we want these horses."

They began to a