old of a pretty monkey in that
young man, she is very much mistaken," replied Mr. Spooner.

Meanwhile Doggie summoned Peddle to the hall. He knew that his
announcement would be a blow to the old man; but this was a world of
blows; and after all, one could not organize one's life to suit the
sentiments of old family idiots of retainers, served they never so
faithfully.

"Peddle," said he, "I'm sorry to say I'm going to sell Denby Hall.
Messrs. Spooner and Smithson's people are coming in this afternoon. So
give them every facility. Also tea, or beer, or whisky, or whatever
they want. About what's going to happen to you and Mrs. Peddle, don't
worry a bit. I'll look after that. You've been jolly good friends of
mine all my life, and I'll see that everything's as right as rain."

He turned, before the amazed old butler could reply, and marched away.
Peddle gaped at his retreating figure. If those were the ways which
Mr. Marmaduke had learned in the army, the lower sank the army in
Peddle's estimation. To sell Denby Hall over his head! Why, the place
and all about it was _his_! So deeply are squatters' rights implanted
in the human instinct.

Doggie marched along the familiar high road, strangely exhilarated.
What was to be his future he neither knew nor cared. At any rate, it
would not lie in Durdlebury. He had cut out Durdlebury for ever from
his scheme of existence. If he got through the war, he and Peggy would
go out somewhere into the great world where there was man's work to
do. Parliament! Peggy had suggested it as a sort of country
gentleman's hobby that would keep him amused during the London
seasons--so might prospective bride have talked to prospective husband
fifty years ago. Parliament! God help him and God help Peggy if ever
he got into Parliament. He would speak the most unpopular truths about
the race of politicians if ever he got into Parliament. Peggy would
wish that neither of them had ever been born. He held the trenches'
views on politicians. No fear. No muddy politics as an elegant
amusement for him. He laughed as he had laughed in the dining-room at
Denby Hall.

He would have a bad quarter of an hour with Peggy. Naturally. She
would say, and with every right: "What about me? Am I not to be
considered?" Yes, of course she would be considered. The position his
fortune assured him would always be hers. He had no notion of asking
her to share a log cabin in the wilds of Canada, or to bury herself in