Ida made no reply, and in another moment the Squire came in to take a couple of glasses of sherry and a biscuit.  But Mr. Quest, furtively watching her face, said to himself that she had taken the bait and that she would do it.  Shortly after this a diversion occurred, for the clergyman, Mr. Jeffries, a pleasant little man, with a round and shining face and a most unclerical eyeglass, came up to consult the Squire upon some matter of parish business, and was shown into the dining-room.  Ida took advantage of his appearance to effect a retreat to her own room, and there for the present we may leave her to her meditations.

No more business was discussed by the Squire that afternoon.  Indeed it interested Mr. Quest, who was above all things a student of character, to observe how wonderfully the old gentleman threw off his trouble.  To listen to him energetically arguing with the Rev. Mr. Jeffries as to whether or no it would be proper, as had hitherto been the custom, to devote the proceeds of the harvest festival collection (1 pound 18s. 3d. and a brass button) to the county hospital, or whether it should be applied to the repair of the woodwork in the vestry, was under the circumstances most instructive.  The Rev. Mr. Jeffries, who suffered severely from the condition of the vestry, at last gained his point by triumphantly showing that no patient from Honham had been admitted to the hospital for fifteen months, and that therefore the hospital had no claim on this particular year, whereas the draught in the vestry was enough to cut any clergyman in two.

“Well, well,” said the old gentleman, “I will consent for this year, and this year only.  I have been churchwarden of this parish for between forty and fifty years, and we have always given the harvest festival collection to the hospital, and although under these exceptional circumstances it may possibly be desirable to diverge from that custom, I cannot and will not consent to such a thing in a permanent way.  So I shall write to the secretary and explain the matter, and tell him that next year and in the future generally the collection will be devoted to its original purpose.”

“Great heavens!” ejaculated Mr. Quest to himself.  “And the man must know that in all human probability the place will be sold over his head before he is a year older.  I wonder if he puts it on or if he deceives himself.  I suppose he has lived here so long that he cannot realise a condition of things under which he will cease to live here and the place will belong to somebody else.  Or perhaps he is only brazening it out.”  And then he strolled away to the back of the house and had a look at the condition of the outhouses, reflecting that some of them would be sadly expensive to repair for whoever came into possession here.  After that he crossed the moat and walked through the somewhat extensive plantations at the back of the house, wondering if it would not be possible to get enough timber out