He met Rhoda’s keen old eyes without flinching; and the drawing-room looked very comfortable that wet evening at tea.  After all, his visit to town had not been wholly a failure.  He had burned quite a bushel of letters at his flat.  A flat—­here he reached mechanically towards the worn volumes near the sofa—­a flat was a consuming animal.  As for Daphne ... he opened at random on the words:  ’His lordship then did as desired and disclosed a tableau of considerable strength and variety.’  Midmore reflected:  ’And I used to think....  But she wasn’t....  We were all babblers and skirters together....  I didn’t babble much—­thank goodness—­but I skirted.’  He turned the pages backward for more Sortes Surteesianae, and read:  ’When at length they rose to go to bed it struck each man as he followed his neighbour upstairs, that the man before him walked very crookedly.’  He laughed aloud at the fire.

‘What about to-morrow?’ Rhoda asked, entering with garments over her shoulder.  ’It’s never stopped raining since you left.  You’ll be plastered out of sight an’ all in five minutes.  You’d better wear your next best, ’adn’t you?  I’m afraid they’ve shrank.  ’Adn’t you best try ’em on?’

‘Here?’ said Midmore.

‘’Suit yourself.  I bathed you when you wasn’t larger than a leg o’ lamb,’ said the ex-ladies’-maid.

‘Rhoda, one of these days I shall get a valet, and a married butler.’

‘There’s many a true word spoke in jest.  But nobody’s huntin’ to-morrow.’

‘Why?  Have they cancelled the meet?’

’They say it only means slipping and over-reaching in the mud, and they all ‘ad enough of that to-day.  Charlie told me so just now.’

‘Oh!’ It seemed that the word of Mr. Sperrit’s confidential clerk had weight.

‘Charlie came down to help Mr. Sidney lift the gates,’ Rhoda continued.

’The floodgates?  They are perfectly easy to handle now.  I’ve put in a wheel and a winch.’

’When the brook’s really up they must be took clean out on account of the rubbish blockin’ ’em.  That’s why Charlie came down.’

Midmore grunted impatiently.  ’Everybody has talked to me about that brook ever since I came here.  It’s never done anything yet.’

’This ’as been a dry summer.  If you care to look now, sir, I’ll get you a lantern.’

She paddled out with him into a large wet night.  Half-way down the lawn her light was reflected on shallow brown water, pricked through with grass blades at the edges.  Beyond that light, the brook was strangling and kicking among hedges and tree-trunks.

‘What on earth will happen to the big rose-bed?’ was Midmore’s first word.

’It generally ‘as to be restocked after a flood.  Ah!’ she raised her lantern.  ‘There’s two garden-seats knockin’ against the sun-dial.  Now, that won’t do the roses any good.’

’This is too absurd.  There ought to be some decently thought-out system—­for—­for dealing with this sort of thing.’  He peered into the rushing gloom.  There seemed to be no end to the moisture and the racket.  In town he had noticed nothing.