who held high office in the State.  Every family had its history and its archives containing records of negotiations with other families.  People who met with all outward friendliness, and belonged to the same party, might have grudges half a century old, but not yet forgotten.  If you made friends with one, you might mortally offend the other.  The other would say nothing, but another day a whisper to some great authority might destroy the hopes of the aspirant.  Those who would attain to power must study the inner social life, and learn the secret motives that animate men.  But to get at the secret behind the speech, the private thought behind the vote, would occupy one for years.

Marthorne, of course, having been born and bred in the circle, knew the main facts; but, when he came to really set himself to work, he quickly felt that he was ignorant, and that at any moment he might irritate some one’s hidden prejudice.  He looked round for an older man who knew all about it, and could inform him.  This man he found in the person of the Vice-Chairman of the Petty Sessions.  The nominal Chairman, like many other unpaid officials, held the place because of old family greatness, not from any personal ability—­family greatness which was in reality a mere tradition.  The Vice-Chairman was the true centre and spirit of the circle.

A man of vast aptitude for details, he liked county business for its own sake, and understood every technicality.  With little or no personal ambition, he had assisted in every political and social movement in the county for half a century, and knew the secret motives of every individual landowner.  With large wealth, nothing to do, and childless, he took a liking to young Marthorne.  The old man wished for nothing better than to talk; the young squire listened attentively.  The old man was delighted to find some one who would sit with him through the long hours of Petty Sessional business.  Thus it was that the people who had to attend the Local Board, whether it was a Saturday, the principal day, or whether it was a Tuesday, that had previously been so trying, found their business facilitated by the attendance of two magistrates.  The Vice-Chairman was always there, and Mr. Marthorne was always there.  It sometimes happened that while Hodge the lately intoxicated, or Hodge the recent pugilist, was stolidly waiting for his sentence, the two justices in the retiring room were convulsed with laughter; the one recounting, the other imbibing, some curious racy anecdote concerning the family history of a local magnate.

Meantime, the young squire was steadily gaining a reputation for solid qualities, for work and application.  Not only at the Bench, but at the Board of Guardians and at other Boards where the justice of the peace is ex officio a member, he steadily worked at details, sat patiently upon committees, audited endless accounts, read interminable reports, and was never weary of work.  The farmers began to talk about him, and to remark to each other what a wonderful talent for business he possessed, and what a pleasant-speaking young gentleman he was.  The applause was well earned, for probably there is no duller or more monotonous work than that of attending Boards which never declare dividends.  He next appeared at the farmers’ club, at first as a mere spectator, and next, though with evident diffidence, as a speaker.