“The capitalist manufacturer,” Brooks answered.  “But after all you can’t under our present conditions dissociate capital and labour.  The benefit of one will be the benefit of the other.  No food stuffs are taxed, you know.”

His neighbour grunted.

“Pity Cobden’s ghost can’t come and listen to the rot those fellows are talking,” he remarked.  “We shall see in a dozen years how the thing works.”

The dinner ended with a firework of speeches, and an ovation to their popular townsman and member, which left Mr. Bullsom very red in the face and a little watery about the eyes.  Brooks and he drove off together afterwards, and Mr. Bullsom occupied the first five minutes or so of the journey with a vigorous mopping of his cheeks and forehead.

“A great night, Brooks,” he exclaimed, faintly.  “A night to remember.  Don’t mind admitting that I’m more than a bit exhausted though.  Phew!”

Brooks laughed, and leaning forward looked out of the windows of the carriage.

“Are we going in the right direction?” he asked.  “This isn’t the way to ‘Homelands.’”

Mr. Bullsom smiled.

“Little surprise for you, Brooks!” he remarked.  “We found the sort of place the girls were hankering after, to let furnished, and we’ve took it for a year.  We moved in a fortnight ago.”

“Do I know the house?” Brooks asked.  “It’s Woton Hall,” Mr. Bullsom remarked, impressively.  “Nice old place.  Dare say you remember it.”

“Remember it!  Of course I do,” Brooks answered.  “How do the young ladies like it?”

Mr. Bullsom laid hold of the strap of the carriage.  The road was rough, the horses were fresh, and Mr. Bullsom’s head had felt steadier.

“Well,” Mr. Bullsom said, “you’d think to hear em we’d stepped straight into heaven.  We’re close to the barracks, you know, and I’m blest if half the officers haven’t called already.  They drop in to luncheon, or dinner, or whatever’s going on, in the most friendly way, just as they used to, you know, when Sir Henry lived there, him as took wine with me, you remember.  Lord, you should hear Selina on the military.  Can’t say I take to ’em much myself.  I’ll bet there’ll be one or two of them hanging about the place to-night.  Phew!”

Mr. Bullsom mopped his forehead again.  The carriage had turned in at the drive, and he glanced towards Brooks a little uneasily.

“Do I look-as though I’d been going it a bit?” he asked.  “Since Selina’s got these band-box young men hanging around she’s so mighty particular.”

Brooks leaned forward and rescued Mr. Bullsom’s tie from underneath his ear.

“You’re all right,” he said, reassuringly.  “You mustn’t let the girls bully you, you know.”

Mr. Bullsom sat bolt upright.

“You are quite right, Brooks,” he declared.  “I will not.  But we took on the servants here as well, and they’re a bit strange to me.  After all, though, I’m the boss.  I’ll let ’em know it, too.”