“Nevertheless I can carry it a hundred miles further in a day than I can carry myself alone.  Such are the marvels of machinery.  But I know that we cut a very poor figure beside you and that magnificent creature not that anyone will look at me whilst you are by to occupy their attention so much more worthily.”

She darted a glance at him which clouded his vision and made his heart beat more strongly.  This was an old habit of hers.  She kept it up from love of fun, having no idea of the effect it produced on more ardent temperaments than her own.  He continued hastily: 

“Is Sir Charles within doors?”

“Oh, it’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard of in my life,” she exclaimed.  “A man that lives by himself in a place down by the Riverside Road like a toy savings bank—­don’t you know the things I mean?—­called Sallust’s House, says there is a right of way through our new pleasure ground.  As if anyone could have any right there after all the money we have spent fencing it on three sides, and building up the wall by the road, and levelling, and planting, and draining, and goodness knows what else!  And now the man says that all the common people and tramps in the neighborhood have a right to walk across it because they are too lazy to go round by the road.  Sir Charles has gone to see the man about it.  Of course he wouldn’t do as I wanted him.”

“What was that?”

“Write to tell the man to mind his own business, and to say that the first person we found attempting to trespass on our property should be given to the police.”

“Then I shall find no one at home.  I beg your pardon for calling it so, but it is the only place like home to me.”

“Yes; it is so comfortable since we built the billiard room and took away those nasty hangings in the hall.  I was ever so long trying to per—­”

She was interrupted by an old laborer, who hobbled up as fast as his rheumatism would allow him, and began to speak without further ceremony than snatching off his cap.

“Th’ave coom to the noo groups, my lady, crowds of ’em.  An’ a parson with ’em, an’ a flag!  Sur Chorles he don’t know what to say; an’ sooch doin’s never was.”

Lady Brandon turned pale and pulled at her horse as if to back him out of some danger.  Her visitor, puzzled, asked the old man what he meant.

“There’s goin’ to be a proceyshon through the noo groups,” he replied, “an’ the master can’t stop ’em.  Th’ave throon down the wall; three yards of it is lyin’ on Riverside Road.  An’ there’s a parson with ’em, and a flag.  An’ him that lives in Sallust’s hoos, he’s there, hoddin’’em on.”

“Thrown down the wall!” exclaimed Lady Brandon, scarlet with indignation and pale with apprehension by turns.  “What a disgraceful thing!  Where are the police?  Chester, will you come with me and see what they are doing?  Sir Charles is no use.  Do you think there is any danger?”