l be stiff tomorrow. I shall get my wife to
rub me with Elliman!"

Mr. Pendyce nodded, raised his hat, and the carriage went on. Leaning
back, he closed his eyes; a pleasanter sensation was stealing over him.
True, he would be stiff to-morrow, but he had done his duty. He had
shown them all that blood told; done something to bolster up that system
which was-himself. And he had a new and kindly feeling towards Peacock,
too. There was nothing like a little danger for bringing the lower
classes closer; then it was they felt the need for officers, for
something!

The spaniel John's head rose between his knees, turning up eyes with a
crimson touch beneath.

'Master,' he seemed to say, 'I am feeling old. I know there are things
beyond me in this life, but you, who know all things, will arrange that
we shall be together even when we die.'

The carriage stopped at the entrance of the drive, and the Squire's
thoughts changed. Twenty years ago he would have beaten Barter running
down that lane. Barter was only forty-five. To give him fourteen years
and a beating was a bit too much to expect: He felt a strange irritation
with Barter--the fellow had cut a very good figure! He had shirked
nothing. Elliman was too strong! Homocea was the thing. Margery would
have to rub him! And suddenly, as though springing naturally from the
name of his wife, George came into Mr. Pendyce's mind, and the respite
that he had enjoyed from care was over. But the spaniel John, who
scented home, began singing feebly for the brougham to stop, and beating
a careless tail against his master's boot.

It was very stiffly, with frowning brows and a shaking under-lip, that
the Squire descended from the brougham, and began sorely to mount the
staircase to his wife's room.

CHAPTER VI

THE PARK

There comes a day each year in May when Hyde Park is possessed. A cool
wind swings the leaves; a hot sun glistens on Long Water, on every
bough, on every blade of grass. The birds sing their small hearts out,
the band plays its gayest tunes, the white clouds race in the high blue
heaven. Exactly why and how this day differs from those that came before
and those that will come after, cannot be told; it is as though the Park
said: 'To-day I live; the Past is past. I care not for the Future!'

And on this day they who chance in the Park cannot escape some measure
of possession. Their steps quicken, their skirts swing, their sticks
flourish, even their eyes